Viewpoint

By Connie Denney

Yes, there’s excitement on that first day of school. Apprehension is in order. Sarah Wolfe remembers hand-wringing moments, although they are in the rearview mirror now.  This time was different, as she remembers telling her parents, “So, I applied to that school to get my doctorate.”

“I shift on my feet, feeling as if I have gotten into trouble as I wring my hands in nervousness, but I think they are just surprised. I’ve not said a word to anyone about this plan of mine.”  Although she was still shocked at her own daring, “I had been longing to get my Ph.D. ever since middle school.”

Yes, Sarah Wolfe has had a lot of first days of school. She’s from Erwin and earned an associate’s degree from Northeast State Community College, Blountville. It was on to East Tennessee State University (ETSU), Johnson City, for her bachelor’s and master’s degrees.  She chose Middle Tennessee State University (MTSU), Murfreesboro, for the Ph.D. in English. With her scholarly interests in medieval literature, women’s history and medieval nuns, which she acknowledges is an unusual subject, she praises her teachers, along with those she had at ETSU.

About those nuns, Sarah says she loves learning about their lives and their cultural achievements. She singles out creating manuscripts, convent chronicles and plays. 

After the thrill of being accepted at MTSU, reality brought her face-to-face with moving away (by this time, home was the family farm in Chuckey). There were emotional and insecure moments. It meant accepting more personal responsibility. But, she’s loving the place she lives, its rich history and being close to downtown shops and farmers’ market.

Struggles caused by her own premature birth and early life help her help others. Being a “premie” and diagnosed in high school with visual perception disorder (VPD), which caused her to see people’s silhouettes and other objects, dots, various colors, among other things, brought challenges. She remembers sitting in front of the class and needing special documents.  But, she says, she never really told anyone about her “issue” until much later in high school.  She’s sharing her experience now because she wants others with VPD to know they are not alone.  She wants them to know they can overcome. Her experience helps her be more caring and understanding of the English 1010 students she is teaching. She wants to be encouraging and kind as possible because she realizes they could be dealing with things she has no idea about.

There were times with younger children she taught before the MTSU move. “Working with young children, not just the special needs children, is very different from working with English composition freshmen. I have had great experiences with both.  With the young children you have to be always on your feet and be patient, answering endless questions.  While this goes the same with the freshmen, they are different because they perceive themselves still in high school!”  She has to remind them that they are in a college course and the expectations are higher.  Still, she has found them a great group with unique viewpoints and eagerness to learn.

What’s next?  Sarah looks forward to upcoming classes, including those about nuns. “In about three semesters, I will be taking the preliminary exams and hopefully, once I pass both of them, I can work on my dissertation! I am about halfway there!”

You go, girl!

By Ray Knapp

I still recall my 5-year-old granddaughter’s words of wisdom from a dozen years ago as we followed my wife through the Johnson City Walmart. She had taken a wrong turn through the toy department. Haley ran up to some toy – I forget what it was, and was inspecting it closely. “Would you like me to get you that for Christmas? “I asked. “No, Papa, we have to get through Thanksgiving first.”

I liked that. I don’t need to repeat what has been said and observed for decades. Thanksgiving and its true meaning have fallen by the wayside much like Christmas. I don’t think that is honestly what a majority of the people across this nation think, but businesses in their pursuit of the all mighty dollar, have forgotten about the ALL MIGHTY and pushed Him out of the picture with slick advertising campaigns.

Abraham Lincoln’s Proclamation of Thanksgiving of Oct. 3, 1863, is probably the best of all proclamations concerning Thanksgiving. It reads, “I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens.”

Somehow, in the Amazon led frenzy to buy an expensive Christmas gift or gifts for you or someone, the words of Honest Abe in his solemn Thanksgiving proclamation are trampled underfoot by shoppers that are waiting to break down doors at the mall or Walmart on Black Friday. The more tech savvy shoppers have moved past that and have their ears attuned, listening for that special chime or other noise coming from their iPad or cell phone notifying them that the app for whoever has the best deal on whatever they have in mind to buy has been located.

This year Thanksgiving falls on the 28th, the latest Thursday it can fall on in November. The last time this occurred was back in 2013. When this happens, it causes a panic among retailers due to nearly a week’s less shopping days between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

However, as mentioned earlier, a majority of people do agree with Abraham Lincoln’s Proclamation concerning Thanksgiving. Locally, and across the nation, many churches and civic/service organizations prepare hundreds of thousands of meals and food baskets for the homeless and less fortunate.

Also – and at times, almost overlooked are our country’s military. Many civilians do not know that America has soldiers, sailors and airmen stationed in 80 countries around the world, many in harm’s way – as well as those on ships and submarines at sea. Having been there, away from home on Thanksgiving, I empathize with them. Though I had a full belly, there was an empty place in my heart, missing my family, especially the children on this day.

A Thanksgiving that stands out in my memory happened when I was six. This was just after the end of WW2 and the whole nation was in a celebratory as well as thankful mood. It was an unusually warm and sunny day. A car drove up about midmorning as us kids were out in the yard playing, and out stepped two beautiful young women in pretty dresses and high heels. They smelled like lilacs.

They made their way to the front porch. “Hello, Aunt Fay,” they sang out to mom as she came out to greet them. It turned out they were cousins, Fern and Georgia, that I had never met. They carried with them large bowls of desserts.

We started to follow them in the house, but mom shooed us younger ones back to play in the yard. Finally, the long-awaited meal was ready and mom called us into the house; somehow, everyone found a place to set. No one was digging in as usual. “Your cousin, Fern, has volunteered to ask the blessing,” mom said. I heard the first of many Thanksgiving blessings that day. Fern ended the blessing with these words: “Always be thankful for what you have. Amen.”

It’s funny how you remember words of wisdom heard for the first time.

By Lisa Whaley

Blessings have been on my mind a lot of late, especially with Thanksgiving right around the corner. I look at my husband, my children and my home and am so thankful for the time I have with them, as well as the simple shelter that has become our gathering place for family dinners and holiday traditions.

With my mother gone now for more than a year, I have also finally started moving past the sadness of her loss and enjoying the many memories we shared. She left me quite a legacy, and I am so very grateful for that.

Perhaps she is the reason that, in the midst of my blessings, I have been looking outward a bit more this season.

My mother was always reaching out, taking in and adopting those she saw in need. This year, I really want to honor that, and I am encouraging our readers to try to do the same.

We can make such a difference, and even be rewarded in the process.

Both Time and Psychology Today, just to name two examples, have spotlighted studies indicating that the giving away of wealth, not the wealth itself, is directly tied to happiness.

In one such study, researchers from the University of Zurich in Switzerland told 50 people they would receive about $100. Half of the people were asked to commit to spending that money on themselves, and half were asked to spend it on someone they knew.

Researchers discovered that just thinking about giving the gifts was enough to make the participants happier than those planning to spend on themselves.

Other studies have shown that older people who are generous tend to have improved health. And still others indicate that people who volunteer tend to be healthier psychologically as well as physically.

But in the end, this isn’t about making us feel better, but about blessing those around us. So many men, women and children face lonely, difficult days during the holiday season. After all, grief doesn’t cease simply because there is a turkey on the table. Worry doesn’t disappear under the twinkling lights of a Christmas tree. And loneliness doesn’t always fade with the singing of a cheery holiday song.

Yet in each of these situations, and many, many more, those lights, songs and even slices of turkey can ease the burden – when that burden is shared.

You don’t have to go far. And you don’t have to spend much, if anything. Look around at your own family first. But I guarantee you have a mother or mother-in-law, grandmother or grandfather, aunt, uncle or even cousin who would be delighted with just a bit of your time.

Look around your office or your church and invite someone to join your family for Thanksgiving dinner. Take someone to lunch. Drop a basket off for a neighbor.

Step outside your comfort zone and volunteer at a homeless shelter or local soup kitchen.

Or volunteer to help provide transportation for seniors.

Take a portion of this year’s financial blessings and donate them to a worthwhile cause or even to an individual or family in need.

The list goes on and on. There are so many opportunities to make a difference. And we are blessed with the ability to give.

It doesn’t have to cost much in time or money.

By Frances Lamberts

A Gulf Fritillary caught my eye in the second November week, and this summer the Passionflower vine had nurtured many of two fritillaries’ caterpillars it hosts, until the first frost blighted the leaves. The trellised vine of the Dutchman’s Pipe, resident of the Appalachian mountains for millions of years, had raised dozens of caterpillars of another of our butterflies, the Pipevine Swallowtail.

For yet another – the Monarch – butterfly, whose serious population declines in recent years had almost landed it on the federal endangered-species list, 2019 also seems to have been a good year. Three Common Milkweed colonies on the property harbored an overabundance of its green, and black-yellow-white banded caterpillars. It was late in the season, though, and the dry summer had sapped the plants’ vigor, wilting and browning many leaves. More than a hundred caterpillars thus went to a friend – Jonesborough’s Virginia Kennedy – who raises Monarchs from eggs through pupation and emergence and tags the adults’ wings, part of the Monarch Watch organization’s monitoring for this butterfly.

Exceptionally many Monarchs were seen heading to their wintering grounds in Mexico this fall, along several of its migration routes. Especially along the eastern route following the Appalachian mountain ridges, observers reported “spectacular” sightings.

As for the tall milkweed plant, the “common” species designation in its name is a misnomer of sorts. As biologist Craig Holdrege of the Nature Center reports, there is nothing “common” about it, excepting perhaps its abundance in fields in earlier days. A remarkable plant, it has a highly refined and complex flower structure, the flower globe containing up to 200 pink-colored, individual flowers. It keeps blooming for a long time and with copious, sweet and fragrant nectar, the many individual flowers attract a multitude of insects, from honey bees to various native bees, ants and spiders, flies and dozens of species of beetles, to a variety of butterflies. All of them, since they move among many other flowers, provide a mainstay of critical pollination services.

The efforts stemming from the previous administration’s task force on pollinators – its “Monarch Highway” and other pollinator-habitat projects – may be a factor in the Monarch’s seeming recovery. For bees, butterflies and other insects, and the plants they depend on, we can only hope that the Trump administration’s approval of highly dangerous, new neonicotinoid pesticides will not reverse the apparent progress or bring other, deleterious impacts for the environment and human health.

By Frances Lamberts

With weight of up to 10 tons, their height and enormous tusks, elephants look like remnants of primeval fauna, some of their fossilized bones found in Gray. In Erwin, they occasion an artistic annual revival in memory of a historic event, to honor the circus elephant Mary and benefit a sanctuary for these unique animals.

Awe-inspiring creatures, they are intelligent and skillful, exhibiting varied emotions not unlike our own. Social animals, they communicate danger and emotional pleasure, help one another when attacked and adjust the herd’s activity to accommodate an injured member. They grieve for dying or dead companions and have been observed covering a carcass with grass clumps and branches torn from the surrounding vegetation.

Charles Darwin thought elephants to weep when injured and even shed tears of grief at companions’ suffering. The American wildlife biologist Douglas Chadwick told of a young Indian elephant weeping when scolded for having knocked someone down in too-boisterous play.

The newspaper Zeit reported 12 million elephants to have roamed Africa a hundred years ago. Fewer than 400,000 still survive. Killed by poachers for ivory, they also are victims to large-scale deforestation and habitat loss. Both the African and Asian elephant reportedly are at risk of extinction.

But in one African country they are thriving. Botswana, the Zeit reporters conclude, values its wild animals, none more than its elephants. A keystone species whose ecological functions maintain the Chobe-National-Park landscape, it also constitutes a major tourist attraction, bringing millions in revenue. The population, steadily growing since the early 1990s, now counts 135,000, more than a third of Africa’s total. Residents of Unicoi, visiting Botswana in March, encountered elephants “everywhere” except in the country’s desert region.

Are they capable of map reading, too? Many of these elephants emigrated from neighboring countries – South Africa, Zimbabwe and others – where hunting, poaching, or land mines from civil wars are major threats. They seem to know where safety lies. Since now exceeding sustainable-population size, Botswana has instituted a small, fixed-number annual culling.

In the U.S. now, as the Trump administration has opened several national monuments and many other public lands to development and “redefined” the Endangered Species Act and other relevant laws, protections for wildlife are being weakened. With the Rocky Fork State Park a crucial reserve and the Town of Erwin celebrating the memory of its elephant and funding conservation causes, this region, hopefully, will better preserve our own, natural resources heritage.

By Ralph Hood

Gail and I just returned from almost a week in Boston and Lincoln, New Hampshire.

On Friday we flew from Tri-Cities Airport to Boston, with the usual obligatory wait in Atlanta. It’s hard for me to believe that I first flew in/out of the Atlanta Airport more than 50 years ago, and even harder to believe that I flew myself in/out in basic, small airplanes.

Son Kevin, his wife Shirley, and our only grandchild, Rowan, live in Newton, Massachusetts, which is a suburb of Boston. Grandson Rowan is a genius, of course, a handsome young man of almost 12, and interested in everything!

Our son and daughter-in-law are hard working professionals. We admire them and sincerely appreciate their hospitality. Thanks also to grandson Rowan and his ability to fascinate and entertain us.

On Saturday, we drove to Lincoln, New Hampshire, to see the fall foliage. The tree colors were awesomely beautiful, particularly from the top of a mountain. We stayed there two days then drove back to Newton.

New England is—of course—where the American Revolution started.

Remember the Boston Tea Party?

One can actually see today the old North Church in which the lantern was burned to advise Paul Revere if the British were moving in by land or by sea.

Most of us, long ago, read the story of that night in the beginning lines of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s great poem, “Paul Revere’s Ride”

“Listen, my children, and you shall hear

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,

On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;

Hardly a man is now alive

Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, “If the British march

By land or sea from the town to-night,

Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch

Of the North-Church-tower, as a signal-light,—

One if by land, and two if by sea;

And I on the opposite shore will be,

Ready to ride and spread the alarm

Through every Middlesex village and farm…”

I have often wondered when—or if—the USA would have become an independent nation without the early actions of New Englanders.

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By Frances Lamberts

Since its earliest work on energy in the 1970s, the League of Women Voters position states its “continued opposition to repeated efforts to drill for oil in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.”

These attempts have been many, though unsuccessful till now, since the American people seem overwhelmingly to support preservation of the Refuge.

They need to rally for its protection, again. Oil and gas lease sales there had been included in the tax-cut law of December 2017. Ostensibly, sale of drilling rights in a vital part of the Refuge was intended to save money and mute the impacts of a vast increase in the federal debt, through lost tax revenue.

As recently reported by the Washington Post, President Trump currently seeks to open “the entire coastal plain [of ANWR] to oil and gas exploration,” and is “picking the most aggressive development option” for this purpose.

For its importance to wildlife and indigenous people, its natural beauty and recreational values, the Refuge was set aside (first as protected Range) by President Eisenhower. For millions of migrating birds from all 50 states and five other continents, and for numerous other wildlife, it is nursery and home and – quite literally – the last place on earth to go. Its continued protection is essential to grizzly and polar bears, sheep, musk-oxen, wolves, the caribou which move to its birthing grounds by the thousands, and many other, unique animals.

President Theodore Roosevelt, an authority on birds and their song, once described an evening concert by thousands of tundra birds, coming from “numberless loons, rolling cries of cranes and bugling flocks of swans, clanging of innumerable geese, hoarse calls of various ducks and the screams of gulls and terns trying to outdo one another … in wildly harmonious music.”

Osprey and Bald Eagle, Common Nighthawk and Red-breasted Nuthatch, Tennessee Warbler and Ruby-throated Hummingbird were among birds documented – in the fall 2017 regional count by Bryan Stevens – which nest or at other times use the Arctic Refuge. The Annotated Birds of Northeast Tennessee include, as seasonal residents or visitors, more than hundred of the ANWR avian fauna.

Science tells us, and the children demand, that most fossil fuel reserves must remain in the ground if the fight against climate change is to be won. On that goal and for our birds and all wildlife that depend on ANWR, I hold with the League of Women Voters.

By Ray Knapp

Lisa Whaley stated in her column in the Oct. 9 edition of the Erwin Record “that the Valley Beautiful has an amazing future ahead of it, as long as we never stop believing in its power.” I agree, even with the recent setbacks she mentioned in her column: the pulling out of the CSX Railroad in 2015 and Morrill Motors’ recent decision to head to foreign shores in order to stay afloat in the world market place.

Tough times have hit the county before, and it has always rebounded. For instance, Southern Potteries, Inc. had several names during its existence. Named Clinchfield Ware, when it incorporated in 1916, this company, along with the Clinchfield Railroad, was responsible for the county’s 41 percent population increase from 1910 to 1920.

The railroad moved its headquarters from Johnson City to Erwin and changed its name to CSX. Sporting a turntable and rail car repair capabilities, Erwin became a “Train Town,” for the obvious reason that the railroad employed more people than any other company.

Coming in second place for number of employees was Southern Potteries, Inc. My neighbor, Nathan Hashe, rummaging through some old pictures left to him by his late father, brought over some 1925 pictures of pottery workers posing before the plant. I counted 141. I don’ know if it was the entire workforce at that time, or not, but the plant continued to grow. The hand-painted pottery became more and more popular. By the late 1940s the plant operated 24/7 with a workforce of 1,200 making it the largest hand-painted pottery in the nation. Of course, that pottery is now the coveted “Blue Ridge Pottery.”

With cheap plastic serving ware imported from Japan during the 1950s, the demand for the hand-painted pottery practically ceased, causing the plant to close in 1957. The 1960 census showed the county’s first population decrease in its history as people left to find work.

Following World War 2, Erwin and the rest of the county were enjoying some of the more prosperous times in its history. Nathan pointed out the Drive-In Theatre. Its screen showed as just a small white speck on the aerial photograph. From the back porch of his home on Harris Street, he could watch the Drive-In movies. In addition, Erwin had its own golf course encompassing roughly all the school and school grounds now lying east of South Mohawk Drive.

Furniture stores, grocery stores, drug stores, a new hospital sprang-up to keep up with the growing demand.

My wife recalled her infrequent visits from Flag Pond in the 1950s. She said on Saturdays, as stores unlocked for business, the sidewalks soon filled with people busily shopping.  Not all people were busy. Kids played on the sidewalks until the matinee movie opened at the Capitol Theatre – costing all of 10 cents. Old men sat on the courthouse steps swapping tales and whittling on sticks, while others played checkers. Those benches you see along Main Street would have been a welcome relief to those men, as they were to some Apple Festival goers, earlier this month.

More pictures showed a street passable only by a high-wheeled Model T, or preferably a horse-drawn carriage before its paving in 1917. Some people complain about the way Main Street is now. However, it is certainly an upgrade from those days and the street benches give Erwin a nostalgic touch of a bygone era.

Today there are some empty storefronts along Main Street, as large chain stores have changed shopping habits. Nevertheless, as many are aware, not all shopping is at Walmart, and I can envision many of those empty storefronts reopened with specialty shops that cater to tourists, or locals that enjoy small town attractions, like restaurants, antiques, and design shops that entrepreneurs create to refill the void left by a few failed businesses. 

As old businesses close, or move to some foreign country, I have noticed that new businesses spring up. The Economic and Development Board is hard at work to attract more businesses to the region and like Lisa Whaley, I envision Unicoi County having a great future.

By Lisa Whaley

This small town is thrivin’.

Don’t believe all the hype. Small towns are not dying — or at least not this small town, if the weekend’s Apple Festival is any indication.

Now in its 42nd year, the Apple Festival has become synonymous throughout our region as the place to go to enjoy everything hearth and home — from crafts and food to music and art and, of course, apples.

But walking through downtown Erwin Saturday, something else caught my eye.

It was the realization that I was witness to the celebration of a living, breathing community – small town America at its best with little to no signs of decay.

I know. I’ve read the articles and seen the empty store fronts. As a girl who grew up in a town of just 300, I’m very familiar with the challenges small towns face.

And Erwin has had more than its share. The pulling out of CSX Railroad in 2015 was enough for a knock-out. The decision to close Morrill Motors was another such blow.

Yet the Erwin I saw this past Saturday looked neither down nor out.

Women swapped stories on one corner. Family members reunited on another. A group of millennials, handsome and eyes alight with all the promise of the future, joked with each other on a third.

The crowds were filled with everything from giggling children skipping down the street to old men sharing their tall tales, and all ages in-between. It was an irresistible combination of wisdom and promise, heady joy and cool-headed common sense that seemed to promise a bright future for anyone willing to grab this small-town comet by the tail.

And it wasn’t just the audience that seemed to shine. Within the booths and behind the tables, visitors found a collection of hard-working dreamers, not necessarily from Unicoi County, but part of this community nonetheless.

These would-be authors and artists, bakers and woodworkers, jewelers and craftsmen were all working to create a future that could include something they loved to do. And they were happy to share those dreams with anyone who would stop, look and listen.

That, I believe, may be the secret to our success.

Small town America needs jobs. It needs young people willing to put down roots in rural communities. It needs roads, a solid infrastructure, good law enforcement and dedicated mayors. All of these things can be crucial.

But I think, more importantly, small town America needs to be proud of what we have, to celebrate its value and to look excitedly toward the promise of tomorrow.

While this past weekend may have been a festival —  and festivals do indeed bring people from all over —  what I saw Saturday was pure Erwin. The Valley Beautiful has an amazing future ahead of it, as long as we never stop believing in its power.

Erwin is in no danger. I believe that. And I can’t wait to see what we bring to tomorrow.

By Frances Lamberts

Across the US and the world over, the young are rising in climate-change protests. They “grieve for a future they worry they’ll never have,” as the Associated Press reported, in conjunction with the recent climate summit at the United Nations.

That event also saw the release of yet another report from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change showing that “earth is in more hot water than ever before, and so are we,” unless carbon pollution in the atmosphere is reduced drastically, and quickly.

It is good to note, therefore, the ongoing actions and commitments, by many cities and other entities, to transition away from the heat-trapping energy sources in order to halt runaway climate change, and promising developments toward that goal in the Congress.

The Union of Concerned Scientists and other sources report that more than a hundred cities and countries across the U.S. have adopted 100 percent clean energy goals, most in staged transition by 2050. Some, like Atlanta, Chicago or Downingtown Borough (Pennsylvania) aim for this achievement by 2030 or 2035, some even earlier.

More than half the states have “Renewable Energy Standards” in place and more than 20 have binding goals – through efficiency and carbon-free energy – to reach or be close to “net zero” emissions by mid-century.

And the Congress has been called on by at least 125 cities and communities to address climate change since this urgent problem cannot be solved through local action alone.

An Energy Innovation and Carbon Dividend Act, endorsed by the Citizens’ Climate Lobby, is among relevant bills now in the Congress, as is a resolution to “create a Green New Deal,” whose main proponents seem to be the young. These are demanding of policy makers that they listen to the science and preserve a habitable and prosperous future for the up-and-coming generations.

The Green New Deal, while also seeking improvements to social and economic problems affecting many Americans, is focused on the clean-energy transition, at speed and on the scale needed to lower the carbon emissions quickly and keep the global temperature rise below 1.5 degrees Celsius, as the Paris climate agreement aimed for.

While it is ambitious and unlikely to be passed in a single bill, the ongoing clean-energy efforts and commitments by so many state and local governments show the Green New Deal to be realistic with proper planning and political will, and affordable. One would hope it would receive support from our national legislators.

By Connie Denney

A family cemetery atop a hill in Western North Carolina was the setting for a group alive with a purpose.

Months earlier I had learned of the hope for a stone to mark the grave of my paternal great-grandmother, whose name I could not have told you at that time. But her now 95-year-old granddaughter’s (my late father’s first cousin) determination to see a proper marker for her grandmother’s final resting place inspired others to help make that happen.

Her niece Sherry and I saw each other at a funeral home, all too frequent a place folks run into each other these days. She told me of her Aunt Mamie’s wish. I won’t try to name all involved, as there are a number of characters in this story, which is still unfolding. Sherry and I were in touch over the months, as she needed a death date for the stone, which she was seeing to getting engraved before taking it across the mountain. My inquiries on my branch of the family tree helped none in that regard. She did learn the date, however; and, the trip to Bee Log was on.

Those accompanying Aunt (her relationship to a number of those along) Mamie on a Tuesday in July numbered a dozen or more. I was so pleased to be among them, as somewhere along the line it struck me that this was MY great-grandmother we were talking about! These were MY people. A number of them I knew but had not seen for a long time. Some I did not remember having seen. Some I had never met.

Among the latter was Steve, recognized as “historian” by others in the group. He was the one with a shovel and materials needed to set the gravestone. The fact that it rained did not keep him from doing what he came to do. As a matter of fact, it did not seem to dampen spirits at all. Mission accomplished, we caravanned into Burnsville for lunch and to extend our visit. Connections among the living had much to do with appreciating a common heritage.

Since then Steve and I have shared information, including old photographs he sent from his Mom’s collection. One is of my Daddy and his twin brother. It’s a picture I had not seen and now can share with other family members on my branch of the family tree. A bit of research connects dots, which creates more questions, which leads to the need for more research.

Between that chance meeting with Sherry and the day Aunt Mamie, surrounded by family members, saw her wish fulfilled, I had two occasions to be at that cemetery. The first was to explore a bit, be sure of just where it was. It was not exactly where we thought it was, but at the end of an unpaved former logging road. That’s a story in itself.

Before the second trip, I had been back where I have cell phone reception and internet access.  I learned more than I even knew to ask. My great-great-great-great grandfather has a commemorative stone on top of that hill acknowledging his service in the American Revolutionary War. That, too, is quite another story.

By Ray Knapp

My wife, Frances, has recently lost about 30 pounds to my three. She is trying to eat healthy. Therefore, I was quite surprised when she asked if I would get burgers for dinner, a Big Mac for her, to be specific. Always being different, she also wanted onion rings, instead of fries.

They didn’t have any, so I just crossed the street to Pal’s, and guess what? They didn’t have onion rings either. Looking around for possibilities: Dunkin’ Donuts, Taco Bell, and Bojangles? No, I do not think so. Then I remembered Hardee’s up past Rock Creek Road. I left Hamburger Row and headed that way. Eureka! They did have some … only $2.73 including tax for a large order.

The trouble that woman puts me through just to get her a heart attack on a bun, (as Squidward Tentacles refers to the Krabby Patties made by the famous fry cook, in the cartoon named for him, SpongeBob Square Pants.) Actually, she has been a little under the weather, so I thought I should humor her a little, or I would have gotten burgers and fries and came home. All that trouble for six onion rings.   

Lately there has been a fight against obesity and fast food restaurants are at the top of the infamous list for causing it. A majority of restaurants are now required to post the amount of calories for most entrees. A Big Mac, for instance, has 530 calories, while a Big Mac and fries contains 900 calories and almost 50 grams of fat. Hardee’s onion rings (assuming they were the beer battered variety) contain 410 calories; unfortunately, 220 of them are from fat. Therefore, 530 calories for the Big Mac plus 410 for the onion rings equals 910 calories and enough fat for at least a day or two.

I will give the Golden Arches some credit; McDonald’s Big Mac must contain fewer calories than it used to, as when I finally got home, my wife decided to rewarm the meat. The size of the meat in a Big Mac has shrunk. It is roughly the size of a small Krystal Burger. I am not picking on any fast food restaurant as almost 40 percent of American’s eat at fast food restaurants on any given day. Therefore, until something better comes along, they are indispensable.

Burger King, which we don’t have in the county, has come out with a meatless burger recently. It is made of vegetables and brown rice. The carbs in the burger are healthy sources of complex carbohydrates that digest slowly and don’t cause a dramatic rise in blood sugar. Its bun, on the other hand, contains high fructose corn syrup, which can cause spikes in blood sugar. It is somewhat lower in calories (390) than most burgers its size. If it catches on, I would venture a guess that most burger chains will jump on the bandwagon with their version of a veggie burger.

However, some of BK’s burger varieties with meat are astonishing. A triple whopper with cheese contains 1220 calories. Add a soft drink and fries, and that is more calories, fat, salt and sugar than a normal person should consume in a day.

You won’t find me on Hamburger Row very often, as most of my meals are homemade and nutritious. My problem in eating stems from staying up later than my wife and sneaking into the kitchen for some kind of snack. That woman can hear me 30 feet away and through closed doors. She comes out of a deep sleep and shouts, “Stay out of that refrigerator.” Actually, I believe she has x-ray vision – always knowing what I’m doing. “You sound like a rat in there rattling around in those chips and cookies.”

I’m going to show her – her and her 30-pound weight loss. I’ll just join her eating celery sticks, raw carrots and other unsavory vegetables; going to bed with her so temptations shouldn’t be as hard to overcome.

Of course, I just wish there was an overnight burger joint in town where I could sneak quietly out of bed and head that way if hunger gets too much to bear.

By SRO Kjell Michelsen

Last Wednesday marked the 18th anniversary of the devastating attacks on the U.S. mainland on Sept. 11, 2001. Much has happened in our country since then. Today, unfortunately, our society, in many ways, has become increasingly polarized.

I am not sure if we ever will see a day again where we as a country truly could come together as we did in the days and weeks after 9-11.

9-11 was also for many a “Clarion Call” to sign up and join and serve in our armed forces. There have been several pivotal moments in our country’s history.

Moments where young men and women in a time of need have answered the call for a cause greater than themselves. I am not going to peel away the layers of politics that sometimes have been a source for many wars – wars that some can argue could have been avoided.

I will instead, in remembrance of that somber day, reflect on and honor those who indeed stepped up and took the oath.

A few years ago, when I was employed by Lockheed Martin, I had the honor of working with many veterans. I worked as a weapons handler and firearms instructors for Lockheed, and one of the guys, actually my supervisor, had deployed to Iraq with the U.S. Marines.

He was among the many who fought in the second battle of Fallujah, which turned out to be one of the bloodiest battles in the Iraqi war.

He would tell stories about brothers lost, the hell of house-to-house combat, even sharing a short film clip of him getting a haircut in the middle of a combat zone. It’s hard to be more Devil Dog than that.

We would also talk about the disconnect between many Americans and those who serve in a time of war. When you hear people gripe about trivial things, like their double cappuccino not being hot enough. Or that one of your favorite sports figures is out with a minor injury, that the avocados at the local grocery store are not organic.

It makes you stop and pause. Sadly, too many are blissfully removed from what thousands of our men and women in uniform are facing daily, serving in combat zones. Where the promise of a hot meal, not to mention a shower, is far from guaranteed.

Reflecting on this, one can argue that maybe it is a good thing that our way of life at home is quite normal. That people can enjoy their cappuccino, even complain that it could be a few degrees warmer.

The passing of time has a built-in “fade button” in our collective memories; hence me writing about that day of infamy.

Let us continue to remember and honor those who died on that horrible day. Let us pray for all those who paid the ultimate sacrifice, and for the healing of those who came home, some with scars, seen and unseen.

Until next time, have fun, be safe, and be mindful that the promise of tomorrow is just that, a promise. Make the best out of every day.