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The German experience settling WNC 1 Reply

Started by Rob Neufeld in Local History. Last reply by Scott Dockery Feb 16.

The history of Oakley

Started by Rob Neufeld in Local History May 13, 2016.

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Rob Neufeld posted a discussion

Gail Godwin full interview for Grief Cottage event

Gail Godwin talks about Grief Cottage            Asheville author Gail Godwin, now a Woodstock, NY resident, comes back home here Wed., June 14 to present her new novel, “Grief Cottage” at Malaprop’s Bookstore, 7 p.m.             “Grief Cottage” is the story of an orphaned, sensitive, troubled boy, named…See More
Jun 13
Jack J. Prather posted a blog post

First Woman NC Poet Laureate's Biography

A Biography of Late NC Poet Laureate Kathryn Stripling Byerin Hendersonville Author's Six Notable Women of North CarolinaA biography of the late Kathryn Stripling "Kay" Byer of Cullowhee, the first woman and longest-serving (2005-2009) Poet Laureate in the state, is featured in Six Notable Women of North Carolina by Jack J. Prather of Hendersonville, founder of the Young Writers Scholarship at Warren Wilson College. The 43-page biography includes poems selected by the poet who passed away on…See More
Jun 9
Julia Nunnally Duncan posted an event

Julia Nunnally Duncan at Marion Community Building

June 17, 2017 from 10am to 3pm
Julia Nunnally Duncan will be a featured author at the McDowell County 2017 Local Author Festival at the Marion Community Building in downtown Marion on Saturday, June 17 from 10-3. The event is sponsored by the McDowell County Public Library and is free and open to the public.See More
Jun 6
Short-short Stories & Riddles posted a blog post

Mom's has-been groove in ghost-boy novel

Marcus, in Gail Godwin’s new novel, Grief Cottage, recalls his friendship with Wheezer, whom he’d once beaten up at school because Wheezer had exposed Marcus’ shameful secret about his mom.  Now Marcus, age 10, is an orphan.  His dad has always been unknown to him; and his mom has just died in a car accident. Relocated to his aunt’s beach house, Marcus, despite the safety of the place, finds himself in trouble. He’s communicating with a ghost.  He’s having dreams about a non-existent older…See More
Jun 3
City Lights Bookstore posted events
Jun 1
City Lights Bookstore posted an event
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Art of Awakening Shamanic Consciousness at City Lights Bookstore

July 28, 2017 from 6:30pm to 8pm
Linda Star Wolf will visit City Lights Bookstore on Friday, July 28th at 6:30 p.m. She will present her new book, Soul Whispering: The Art of Awakening Shamanic Consciousness.  Master Shamanic Breathwork Practitioner, Nita Gage co-wrote the book with Linda Star Wolf. The authors explore how the art of Soul Whispering can help each of us understand why we experience our lives the way we do and shift from healing our wounds to embracing the process of transformation. This is a powerful new…See More
May 27
Connie Regan-Blake posted events
May 23
Mirra updated an event
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Dada Maheshvarananda Launches Cooperative Games book at Malaprops Bookstore

May 27, 2017 from 7pm to 8:30pm
With a Foreword by noted author and activist, Bill Ayers, Cooperative Games for a Cooperative World by Dada Maheshvarananda, shows up how to work together to create unity, trust, and cooperation in making the small and big changes needed to create the world we want to see.Listen to this recent radio interview with Dada:https://drive.google.com/openDiane Donovan of Midwest Books says of…See More
May 20
Mirra posted an event

Dada Maheshvarananda Launches Cooperative Games book at Malaprops Bookstore

May 27, 2017 from 7pm to 8:30pm
With a Foreword by noted author and activist, Bill Ayers, Cooperative Games for a Cooperative World by Dada Maheshvarananda, shows up how to work together to create unity, trust, and cooperation in making the small and big changes needed to create the world we want to see.Listen to this recent radio interview with Dada:https://drive.google.com/openDiane Donovan of Midwest Books says of…See More
May 16
City Lights Bookstore posted an event
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Rosalind Bunn Storytime at City Lights Bookstore

June 24, 2017 from 11am to 12pm
Rosalind Bunn will return to City Lights Bookstore on Saturday, June 24th at 11 a.m. for a special storytime. Rosalind teaches at East Side Elementary in Marietta, Georgia. She has three grown children and a new grandson. Rosalind has co-authored three children's books with a dear friend, Kathleen Howard. Her newest book, Thunder & a Lightning Bug Named Lou, is illustrated by Angela C. Hawkins and was released in December 2016. Her other titles are Whose Shadow Do I See?, The Monsters…See More
May 13
Short-short Stories & Riddles posted a blog post

I Have a Coin

I Have a Coin I have a coin I deem a treasure.One side bears the sign of extinction,And the other, an instance of nature.But it’s not a coin; it’s a seal,And the meaning of this distinctionIs the unbearable sadness I feelWith experience, or with closure. It seems like a double exposure,But the knowledge of impermanenceBleeds into the ideal likenessOf mortality in its eminence—To yield a vibrant pictureOf a creature’s essential brightnessAs it burns for life without censure. --Rob NeufeldSee More
May 12
City Lights Bookstore posted events
May 11
Gary Thomas Johnson is attending Kalen Vaughan Johnson's event
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Kalen Vaughan Johnson debuts ROBBING THE PILLARS at Malaprop's Bookstore/Cafe

May 20, 2017 from 7pm to 8:30pm
This signing event for my debut novel ROBBING THE PILLARS will also serve as a benefit for longtime family friend and WNC advocate for people with disabilitiesSee More
May 10
Gary Thomas Johnson shared Kalen Vaughan Johnson's event on Facebook
May 10
Kalen Vaughan Johnson posted an event
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Kalen Vaughan Johnson debuts ROBBING THE PILLARS at Malaprop's Bookstore/Cafe

May 20, 2017 from 7pm to 8:30pm
This signing event for my debut novel ROBBING THE PILLARS will also serve as a benefit for longtime family friend and WNC advocate for people with disabilitiesSee More
May 10
Mark de Castrique posted a blog post

Hidden Scars - Sam Blackman and Black Mountain College

I don't know if this is true for my fellow writers, but proofing can be the most difficult part of the process.  I received the ARC today for October's Sam Blackman Mystery and will begin the last review for typos or formatting errors that have eluded my editor, my copy editor, and myself.  Amazing that there is always something that the brain "fixes" and we don't see.Hope springs eternal that the October release will be typo-free.  The mystery is set against the historic backdrop of Black…See More
May 6

South of Sylva, back of yesterday: John Parris' inspiration

 

            “For the life of me, I just can’t understand why folks stopped usin’ cradles,” John Parris’ 97-year-old maternal grandfather had told him 60 years ago.

            The oil lamp, the buggy, and the spinning wheel—they all were replaced by things that did their jobs better and easier, but “nobody came up with anything to replace the cradle.” 

            Parris, the late, great columnist for the Citizen-Times, had roamed the mountains from Brasstown to Blowing Rock for 42 years, beginning in 1955, often gravitating to Sylva, his hometown, and to Burningtown, 20 miles southwest, in Macon County.

            Burningtown was where his maternal grandma and grandpa lived.  This grandpa, whom Parris sometimes called the “Old Man of the Mountains,” was a go-to source for reliable lore.

 

Rock-a-bye

 

            “My Uncle Eli was the masterest cradle-maker in these parts,” the Old Man avowed.

He’d take a short length of buckeye log and work on it like he was makin’ somethin’ that was gonna hold a king.  He pegged it with oak pins to two hickory rockers,” because “rockers out of hickory won’t creep.”

Caretakers would rock the cradle with a foot while sewing, knitting, or churning; or, when moving about the house, they’d set the cradle rocking as they passed by.

The comforts of home reached a peak at Christmastime, and merited Parris’ prose poetry.

 

Homemade poetry

 

            “In the Carolina Highlands, December is an old man with memories and a young man with dreams.” Parris wrote.  It’s a time “when the stars come close and night winds are winds of song.”

            “It’s when,” he adds, “a house, be it cabin or mansion, reveals its true character and abody gets to know the meaning of a home.”

            The nostalgia attached to an old-time mountain home is not all in vain. The recollections cause us to reconsider progress and value such blessings as a world full of evocative smells.

            “A man can no longer drink into his lungs a thousand proud, potent, and mysterious odors,” Parris wrote from Little Savannah, his paternal grandparents’ place west over the mountain from Cullowhee.  “Gone are the smells that whip the senses and plough a furrow on the memory.”

            The smell of warm foaming milk; the manure-hay-leather-oats smell of a barn; the blue smell of hickory smoke; the bread-molasses-kerosene-coffee-vanilla smell of grandma’s kitchen; the starch-cabbage-wax-tobacco-mint-paint-cat smell of the country store; the smells of rain-wet plums, corn pollen, and burning leaves; and the “exciting smell of the hills blooming in the dusk”—these and other odors “have been tamped down, obliterated, or extinguished.”

 

Going home again

 

            “The road back to childhood is a road to shattered illusions,” Parris related after visiting the place where his father had grown up and his grandfather is buried.

            “The springhouse, shaded by a gnarled old oak, is gone...The peach trees have withered and died and the apple trees have been cut down...There’s only a slight depression in the earth where the barn stood, and I remembered the last time I had stood there.  Neighbors with saw and hammer had been there then, making a coffin of pine for my grandfather.  And I remember how they talked in hushed tones, their hammers ringing in the September afternoon.”

            The old house still stood, sagging, its oak shingles replaced by a metal roof.  Inside, Parris saw “the big bed on which his grandfather died...in the front room, fast by the fireplace.  And over it is spread one of my grandmother’s coverlets.”

 

Cornshuck rain hat

 

            Cash-scarce times were heart-filled times on the farms. 

            The Old Man remembered that during the Civil War and Reconstruction, ladies made “the prettiest bonnets you ever saw” out of corn shucks; and “the menfolks got to wearin’ hats out of the same stuff.”  

            Corn was a way of life.  “It was corn-shuckin’s and hoe downs, fiddle-music and banjo pickin’” Corn was “pudding and soup, hominy and mush...It was dolls and whistles.”  It was feed for the cows.  “Many a family slept on cornshuck mattresses.  They burned corn cobs for fuel.”

            “There was no finer pipe than one made out of corn cobs....(and) I remember once,” the Old Man recalled, Uncle Eli “made me a cornstalk fiddle and bow.”

 

Mountain cooking

 

            Grandma was “mighty peart with a skillet,” Parris observed.  “In the early summer when the corn first ripened, we’d start havin’ gritted bread.  Now that’s somethin’ to make your mouth water.”

            There’s a recipe you can look at in Parris’ 1978 book, “Mountain  Cooking,” but Grandpa gives a pretty good description in “My Mountains, My People,” Parris’ second of five books of collected columns.

            “You take fresh corn and rub it over a piece of tin that’s been holed with a nail, rubbin’ the ear of corn on the rough side, and make a meal that’s milky-like.  Sweetest, tastiest thing you ever tasted.”

            Every resource got used in every way—peach trees, for example.  They used to be more greatly favored than apple trees, the Old Man stated.  “What we didn’t dry or make into peach butter or pickle we sold over at the stillhouse where they run ‘em through a mill and made brandy.”

            Folks also made peach leather, pressing the peaches through a coarse sieve, adding brown sugar and cooking them, and spreading the sauce on plates to put out in the sun until it dried and could be rolled up.

            “No one was ever known to go hungry at Grandma’s,” Parris proclaimed about his father’s mom; and it also applied to his maternal grandmother.  “Nor was it necessary to make a flying trip to the store.”

            At times, after the meal was distributed, Grandpa, holding his plate said he reckoned “the chickens didn’t have livers and gizzards anymore, teasing Grandma and knowing all the while she had held them back for the children.”

            Grandma was happiest, Parris attested, “when the house was bulging at the seams with company.  And it was the same with most of her contemporaries here in the mountains.”

Originally published, with a few changes, in the Asheville Citizen-Times.   Follow Rob Neufeld on Twitter @WNC_chronicler.

 

ART

Cover of “Mountain Cooking”

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