For My Father

Like father like daughter, we hide

behind gray puffs of smoke,

crave the acrid spice of nicotine.

His is Misty menthol,

mine Misty light.

A nasty habit that oddly comforts me

as once a month arrived

a slim white envelope

bearing his handwriting,

tidy, neat and even strokes

like ripples on a pond,

mailed from Pennsylvania

to Carolina, where cigarettes

were half the price.

I fed his addiction,

a ruse to keep his letters

binding him to me,

by a long distance cord

of a slim white paper cigarette.

Always bringing back,

Pictures in my mind,

scattering in slow motion through

a kaleidoscope, where

I could see him young with hair

untouched by grey,

tall and strong,

my anchor in the wind.

Take me for a ride daddy,

and he lifts me up into the air

high above his head

I will never let you fall,

higher still he thrusts me to the sky

beyond the billowy puffs of clouds

Now just reach for any star,

they’re all yours, he said

then taught me how to make them mine.

I went away to gather tiles

to build the mosaic of my life,

minutes vanished into days

years withered into air,

his hair now grey as evening sky,

bent and weak, he is

a pillar toppled by a winter breeze.

The letters stopped years ago, but in my    

mind  they still come

connecting us by a long distance cord

A slim white papered cigarette -

his is Misty menthol, mine is Misty light

and when night time shadows fall,

billowy clouds  will always smoke

behind the stars that he made mine. 

I love you daddy

Guilty Sunday Blues

Instead of sitting in church, we are sitting in our car traveling north on Highway 52 from Winston-Salem. Our final destination is the winery at Chateau Morrisette which is nestled in a valley a short distance from milepost 171.5 along the Blue Ridge Parkway in Floyd, Virginia. Once there, my husband, daughter and I will indulge in one of the best Sunday Brunches that I have ever had (not to mention awesome wine tasting). Before we arrive at this destination, I indulge in another ulterior motive for our adventure – antiquing and junqueing along the highway through Mount Airy, North Carolina and Cana, Virginia. Read more at All Things Girl online

Remembering New York and 9/11

1928 View Wall Street

On this eleventh day of September 2015, I will say a prayer and remember. I will remind myself that life can be taken from us at any given moment and I will try to treasure this day. 


As a child I lived in Pennsylvania in a tiny town near the center of my father's large family. My mother's family was less than three hours away, in New Jersey and New York City. I grew up in a contrast of languages, my father's Pennsylvania Dutch, and my mother's Slovak, Polish, Russian, and other languages which confused me even more. I loved going on long extended visits to see my New York relatives. The sounds, smells, and sights of the city became embedded beneath my skin. After we moved to Florida, I quickly adapted to southern living and culture. As a young adult I got to travel to many places, some exotic, and some not so exotic. But this is how we grow, how the world goes around, changing places and changing faces.

I traveled to New York City on a fairly regular basis throughout my adult life as it is one of the main retail centers in the world. I had to be there during every major market week and many smaller mini-markets throughout the year. My first office in New York City was in the Empire State Building, on the 79th floor. One particular elevator always seemed eerie to me. Sometimes the noise seemed deafening, particularly on the rare occasions when I was the only one in the elevator. I also hated walking the winding corridor to the ladies room where heat and more noise radiated through the walls. The July of the first year after I joined the company, I found out why, although I was still in Chicago packing for a trip to the Big Apple. Parade magazine ran a big article on the military plane that crashed into the Empire State Building on July 28, 1945 --- smack dab into the 79th floor leaving a gaping hole 18 feet high and 20 feet wide and destroying the offices along the corridor to the ladies room.

Manhatten 1928

I had other offices, one on the Avenue of Americas, and one across fro the World Trade Center. I used to stop in the deli there for a bagel or breakfast sandwich. Occasionally I even had business meetings at the Trade Center, and friends. I left the corporate world for good when I opened my antique shop, but never forgot the excitement, or sounds, smells and sights of New York City.

In August of 2001, my husband and I had decided to move to another part of North Carolina and had just begun the process of purchasing a plantation and estate, looking to turn it into a B&B along with selling antiques. We had just returned from a final view of the property before making an offer when 911 happened. I know that the world stopped for many people on that day which forever altered our lives from one corner of the globe to the other. For me and my family, we stopped and took a long look around us and realized that home to us, was right where we were and should be.

Ground Zero 1928

Now ten years later, I realize even more how dramatically my life changed. I went back to College and then on to earn my MFA. I made many changes, some difficult and some because the world as we knew it, had changed. We are and will continue to be in a constant change of flux,

On this eleventh day of September 2015, the cloudless sky is crystal blue, the air holds a hint of the fall season soon to come. Summer still lingers, but shadows dance upon the walls minutes earlier then the day before. I imagine at the ground zero sight, at a field in Pennsylvania, and where ever people lost their lives on this fateful day, thousands of shadows dancing and I hope that they are at peace, hope they are at rest. 

Communications Error PART III

A Comedy of Errors

To say that I am not happy right now, is an understatement.

Pure and simple, the companies that supply my cell phone lines (4), my landline (1) which also happens to be my Internet connection, and now my bank  - SUCK.

Having made this announcement, I am certain my service will go from pathetic, to worse. I mention my bank because they keep coming up with new ways to keep my money.

After my last post on Communication Error Part II, my cell and land line service almost seized to exist.  

This week did not start out very well. I had no bars on my 4G cell phone, and my land line had no dial tone. Although I was able to get on the internet with some of my computers, the internet speed was less then 1400 kbps. My land phone though, was dead (except if you attempted to call the number, you would get a busy signal).

First, T Mobile. Over the course of the past few months, due to many issues including being billed for text from a place called Mauritania, I connected with a supervisor named “Jennifer.”  She has supposedly been overseeing my account because of the problems. So much for promises, such as free phones for renewing your contract, and that “Don’t worry, I have everything under control,” she tells me, and for a while I thought she did and did not worry. Our last conversation was that she would call me on September 2nd. I guess she meant a different year then 2011.

Moo Yorkie

But this isn't the half of it because I elected to go paperless billing and my T Mobile bill is still mysteriously not available to me, although it claims I owe them $444.00 (less change) for current charges. The bill was $644.00 but they evidently applied a credit of $200.00 based on a phone I purchased in July and which, instead of applying my charge card purchase to the phone, they applied it to a bill which did not generate until 11 days later (but they did ship my phone).

So beginning Monday, and successive days throughout the week, I spoke with numerous customer reps who had thick accents. After hours of trying to explain my months of T Mobile hell and nightmares, my connection with said reps, was dropped. Whether or not they cut me off (which, has happened often in the past) is another issue.

I am getting extremely tired of speaking with people who are very difficult to understand and I am still waiting to view a valid bill.

But at least the outcome with Windstream – my landline and Internet carrier – faired better. 

It isn’t that I care about my land line although it my connection to the Internet, but I have had this number for almost 20 years and my family often forgets our cell phone numbers. I also keep this landline because on occasion, I accept credit card purchases in my shop.

I wont though after January 1, 2012.  Accept credi card purchases that is. Not when my bank (BB&T) sent me a letter informing me that they must keep 28% (known as Federal backup withholding). 

HUH?????

OUCH

They already charge me $5.00 a month for the sheer pleasure of using a credit card machine. They already charge me a pass through fee meaning just swiping a card through the machine. They already charge me $5.99 a month for being in Compliance. They already charge me a base fee of $15.00 a month as a minimal charge for Charges/debits. They already charge me an additional fee for said credit/debits of up to 6% a month depending upon the credit/debit card name/company. Not to mention that my previously free checking is no longer free and should I wish to pay by check, said check will cost $.18 per check to write. In short, I loose between $400.00 and $800.00 a year for doing business with them.

I Have a Headache

 So much for being a loyal customer. Which is why my cell phone company, my land line company, and my bank, who all want my business, suck. 

Cell Phones, Landlines, and Communications Error Part II

Help. Get me out PLEASE!

I have been a loyal customer of TMobile who bought out SunCom and before that I had Verizon, who screwed me royally. I won’t go into that but it was about “only the primary number" had allocated minutes and subsequently I was charged $600.00 for additional minutes, although my total minutes were unused.

The explanation was very simple – the line who used the minutes was not the primary number.

I will fast forward to the present and the past three months which have totally sucked up every ounce of patience I thought I had.

This particular time (yes – there was another ugly time when I tried to go wireless (and if you care to read about it – click on Communications Error by Bev Hamel), has been abysmal. It’s true, history does repeat itself, particularly on Sunday afternoons when I clean up my computer from a weeks worth of internet surfing, or when my cell phone contract is about to expire and I need to make a decision whether to stay with my current company, or not.

We are!

Up until a few months ago, I had been happy with my cell phone carrier, T Mobile. I had not been happy with my two teenage daughters and their cell phone usage, but I was safe – I had family allowances and could control their usage. What I couldn’t control was their carelessness in taking care of their cell phones. There have been mysteriously broken phones, dropped phones in places where one does not want to go fishing, not to mention confiscated phones that only a parental figure can reclaim. We have had stolen phones and phones that disintegrated through wear and tear – but no one admits to being responsible.

This is not T Mobile’s fault, but the unauthorized text messages and charges to my account when parental controls were in place, is. No one in my family knows any one from Mauritania, nor do we even know where it is though through Googling the number and name, Mauritania is a country in West Africa and an Islamic Republic.

Not one of us received a message – just a charge. Okay so $.20 is nothing, but it does add up. The first time I called customer service, I was told – text back to “STOP.”

“How do I do that? The phone doesn’t ring and there is no record of receiving the message on our actual phones. The only way I know about this is because the charges are on my bill!”

“That is not possible,” a very thickly accented voice replies.

Where is Muriatania?

“Can you explain to me why I have my phone turned off and I am asleep at 3:00 in the morning? In fact all my other three cell phone users are asleep as well. Can’t you stop this?”

“No,” the voice said. ”We can’t block International calling or text, besides you have parental control and family allowances.”  

I'd rather have the parental controls.  The messages continued and so did the charges. I continued to spend quality time on the phone with T Mobile customer service. requesting the charges be removed. Every person I spoke with had a different solution.

So, this was my first problem – I talked to many customer service people until I demanded a supervisor. But it still took hours, days and weeks to resolve. I am not sure if this was finally resolved because  I condescended to renewing my contract, getting new phones, adding an unlimited text and data plan for my family, with the exception that the two teenage people in my family  - have 500 minutes each. One of these people used the minutes in a few days, and although the text messaging was unlimited, the other teenaged person, made international calls to Morocco (which were not in the plan), while the male parental figure accidentally downloaded a bloat ware app though I told him the Android Market is loaded with free apps.

Ok, so I love my new Khaki Slide!

This, though is not the last straw. It seems somehow, my new family plan racked up a whopping $653.00 bill this month.  It seems there was a little bit of communication error, between customer service reps and supervisors, not to mention it turned out the free phones we were suppose to receive, weren't free after all.

If only this was all, and I wont go into detail, but between the severe storms, earthquake, my Windstream land line and broad band connection went puff! New phones, new modem, new plan, and two weeks later, a new bill, I am ready to become a hermit.

However, we no longer have text messages from Mauritania showing up. They are now coming from EGYPT!

Earthquakes and In Memory Of a Best Friend

Between yesterday and today, I am in a daze and heartbroken. I have recovered from the event of yesterday, after all it was a mere earthquake.

Yesterday just before 2:00, I was sitting at my desk when I heard my puppies howling and barking then came a a roar and I felt a rush of energy burst through my shop. The overhead pipes, ceiling fans and even furniture rattled and shook. The phenomena seemed to last for minutes and as quickly as it began, stopped in dead silence. I called my husband and asked him what happened - he didn't know because he was outside. I had him go through the building both inside and out even though I didn't know at the time that what I felt was an earthquake and besides, we don't have earthquakes in Bethania, let alone North Carolina, or the East coast. I heard it on the news later in the evening. It  was a weird feeling to find out the jolt registered 5.8 on the Richter scale.

Then this morning I heard a loud rush of speed, a thud and a thump from the same location by my desk. The noise came from outside the front of my shop. I went to look and saw a man in the middle of the street - he was a neighbor from up the road who had been walking his large dog, a pretty and friendly honey colored Lab mix. A car had zoomed by, going at least double our 25 MPH speed limit and is why I am heartbroken, dazed and numb. I watched as he lifted the lifeless body and took him to the side of the road and held the dog as it died. The car driver never stopped.

I have seven Yorkies and all of them are my best friends. I am so sorry for you my neighbor, and I feel your pain and your loss. We all do.

POST SCRIPT
My husband just returned from the post office which should have taken only a few minutes and instead it took thirty - A van in front of him hit a small dog and took off and left it there on the road. My husband and another man went to help. They saw a tethered leash and an empty collar on the porch. The owner of the dog was inside, but in a wheel chair.  The puppy was dazed but still needed care - I hope it will survive. This is a day I just want to stand outside and scream at all the speeders to slow down.

Tonight I am going to have a free-for-all with my puppies, give them extra treats, and watch their favorite movie. I will let them kiss my face as much as they want and let them help take away the sadness of this day. But then, they always do.

Writing History is Like Putting Together a Puzzle

Miller and Green Store Pauls Valley, Indian Territory

Although the sign says it is the C. J. Grant Store, the building was the original Miller and Green store and initially operated by Frank Miller before he took on a partner named Thomas M Green. 

I know this because of the trip that I have been on --- lost in Pauls Valley, Indian Territory before it became the state of Oklahoma, traveling through time and space from Winston, North Carolina, before it became Winston-Salem, To say that that it's been an amazing trip, is not the least, because I have also met several wonderful historians and writers whose knowledge of the west and its settlement have fueled my research and detective work. The problem is, my puzzle is growing at the same time the pieces are falling into place. The picture above was forwarded to me by OK historian Mike Tower and courtesy of the Pauls Valley Depot Museum. The photograph was taken after 1888, before the building burnt to the ground. Mike tells me that the only reason the picture of the store exists is because C. J. Grant had it moved parts by parts on wagons from its original location, which was located on the confluence of Rush Creek, about a mile south of where the present town exists. 

 

I already knew that Frank Miller sold the business to Grant after Green was killed in 1886. But what I didn't know was from early Garvin County Historical notes that Miller gave half of the business to a Tom Martin who was a nephew of Miller or Green. But then it hit me from already tons of my local Winston Research, Tom Martin was the son of Dr Samuel Martin of Winston, who married Miss Limmie Miller in 1856, daughter of Harmon Miller Esq, and Frank Miller's oldest sister.

C. J. Grant is Calvin Grant, son of Colonel Thomas Grant who was one of the first settlers in Pauls Valley. The Colonel is the first cousin of Ulysses S Grant. A co-incidence is that the house the former president lived in before and after the Civil War, in Galena, Illinois, is identical to the home that my husband and I restored in DeKalb, Illinois, for JJ Kingsley who is considered the father of Hybrid corn. But before I go off on a tangent and another story I need to write, I need to finish the one I am on, which is an amazing saga spilling from two Victorian trunks, and pieces of papers and letters spanning 200 years.

Pauls Valley Indian Territory and a Man Named Frank Miller

Pauls Valley

I was going to post a new blog much earlier then this, but because of the state of our Nation's budget crisis, I'd keep the publication up. Sometimes prayers can be far reaching. Besides I have been on a long journey of discovery taking me back through time in researching historical records of place and elements of life for a book that I have not yet determined to be a history book or a historical fiction book.

Frank Miller taken about 1870
St Louis 

My quest involves Cowboys, Indians, Pauls Valley, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Texas, and a man named Frank Miller who arrived in Pauls Valley, then Indian Territory  from Winston, somewhere around 1870, though he most likely was in the West earlier. The story is an intriguing one because Harmon Miller, Frank's father was one of the first to settle Winston, in the new county of Forsyth, NC in 1849. Before Harmon's death in 1861, the family had amassed considerable property, had a hotel, brick buildings, a mercantile store, and land throughout several counties.

Jesse James

Frank's two brothers, both ranking officers, were killed in the Civil War. Frank was in the war too, and served at least, some of the war in New Bern and Wilmington - the home of Smith Paul, originally from New Bern NC and who Pauls Valley is named after. We have Frank's brothers (war0 records available, but we do not have Franks. Family history though suggests that he may have been a blockade runner.

Because of numerous historical facts an some very interesting records and letters, also allude that Frank Miller may have served on the side of the North. This material is intricate, but documented because there were many men of southern origins who did not believe in what the American Civil War was about. That there were Southern deserters who lost there faith in the war and the cause is known - the war took its toll on human frailties.

The aftermath of the war and reconstruction era, was a nightmare at best,; but southern men who had defected were perhaps more ostracized then even African Americans, and Northern deserter. Although Frank Miller's family roots were deeply embedded in his birthplace, along with the family's land investments that were able to be sustained through many careful and cautious manipulations, even the disintegration of confederate currency,  did not create financial difficulty.

Forgiveness from within the local deeply southern community which Frank Miller lived, would take many years. This was not uncommon and many Civil War veterans removed their selves, as well as their families away from the community in which they had known.

"Go West, Young Man, Go West" an unknown source quote, published in a newspaper published by Horace Greeley, became the inner most thought of many men - young and old alike. The idyllic image of growing with your country, of greener pastures, of untamed wilderness, of roots- hog - or die, and of adventure - opened up a chance for a new life, and for possibly forgetting and for forgiveness.

By the early 1870s, Pauls Valley became known as a way station for the cream of the crop, wild, wild west bad buys and gangs; such as Billy the Kid, the James Brothers, the Younger Brothers, so the well known Bounty hunters, along with sheriffs, and the Calvery made frequent pit stops there including Custer. It was not an uncommon sight to find dead men along the dirt roads, hanging in trees, or lying half submerged in water. Some would still have their hair and other's would not. The same way with their boots, which became a must for cowboys - hoping to die with their boots on.

Gen George Custer

Frank Miller had to have "True Grit" because he operated a trading post, was licensed by the Government to,  pay the freighters who drove cattle through the rich valley and supplies to Ft Sill and other Forts within a wide range. He was also the postmaster for many years, raised several thousand heads of cattle on his spread, had a telegraph, financed the first bank in Sherman Texas, Sacremento, Ca, Oklahoma City and in Pauls Valley. (Not to mention back in Winston, RJ Reynolds and his tobacco endeavors, and then his brother in-law - George Hinshaw's bank and the bank that would become Wachovia).

But back to Frank Miller and the Wild West. By 1872, he had a partner named Thomas Green and in 1877, he returned to Winston, took care of some business, and married Ida Wharton, a prominent Clemmons Doctor's daughter and brought her to his home in the West. She too must of had grit because she bore Frank five children, two boys died in infancy.

Pauls Valley

Frank spent about 15 years, that I can document, In Pauls Valley; but the date that seems to point to the family's retrurn to Winston and North Carolina is about 1886, when the railroad came to Pauls Valley. This is also when his partner Tom Greene was killed while herding cattle and preparing for the trip near the Washita River. This is also about the time the Wild West became even wilder. Ida too, was expecting, so I think Green's death was the last straw for her.

I still have some research to do, but the story has been bubbling inside me for too long a time now and is hankering to come out. In the mean time . . . . .







   

The First Prayer in Congress published by H. V. Wright, Washington City

This is one of the first printed  copies of The First Prayer in Congress made available to the public and was published by H. V. Wright, Washington City.  He notes, "In "Thatcher's Military Journal," under date of December 1777, is found a note containing the identical "First Prayer in Congress," made b the Rev. Jacob Duche, a gentleman of great eloquence, Here it is - a historical curiosity."

The prayer was published in Thatcher's Journal in 1823. You can read more on this historical document at The Foundation Forum. 

Historians of the 20th Century differ on the actual date and year it was read, but the prayer is grounded in the birth of our nation and as fitting for our stressful time as at any previous time in our country's struggles.

Enjoy and have a safe and happy Fourth of July! 

Celebrating the First of July

The Bombardment of Fort Henry
by Bill Alderfer

Today is may dad’s birthday. I will not say the year that he was born, except that he is possibly older then dirt and candles should be banned from his birthday cake.

On the other hand, my dad is an amazing artist, still handsome and brilliant. 

My dad is a WWII Veteran, wanted to study linguistics, and speak Chinese, But he had a growing family – three children and a wife who demanded that her husband concentrate on “bringing them up.” including learning cooking, books, and anything that had to do with paper besides books – but real period paper, 16th -  17th - 18th  and 19^th century material – the stuff that most people ignore or throw away.

Some of the papers came from our 17th Century home in Pennsylvania, which is how the bug for old homes became imbedded in my life, as did antiques. The papers were used as insulation beneath floor boards and stuffed between log walls and beams.

I remember going through boxes of  my dad's "stash,” and pulling out an original newspaper with George Washington's address to the troops from Valley Forge.  Then there were boxes of old letters and other papers from the Revolutionary War through the Civil War.

Which brings me to the fact that in a few days, on July 4, our country, which is also older then dirt, will be celebrating its 235th birthday.

My dad isn't that old, but I sent him one of those talking cards that warns the people who live in the vicinity of his apartment in Hatfield, Pa -  to run for cover because there is a fire going on but actually its his birthday cake with all its candles.

I warned you dad --- Happy Birthday!

Why I Have Six Yorkies in My Bed

Actually on occasion, I have seven - when my daughter visits or asks us to "puppy sit." Said puppy is my "grandpuppy" and while she is not with us all the time, she remembers and knows who we are. Anyone who believes that dogs don't have memories, let me assure you they do. When Mizzie comes to visit - pandemonium erupts and we have a wild and crazy time. First Zoie and Zack (the parents) attack her, and then the rest of the gang. They immediately run into my bedroom and have a free-for-all on my bed.

I am to Cute for you to be Mad

This is a daily occurrence and the main reason why my bed never gets made. In reality, life with six Yorkie puppies in our house everyday is a wild and crazy time because the puppies like to party - they are after all Yorkshire Terriers, which is very close to terrors - which right now is synonymous with termites - (they like to chew and are going through an exceedingly long teething stage). Besides toys, chewbones, every  paper product imaginable, we have glasses, cell phones, remote controls, every flavor of wood in furniture, pillows, foam, each other, and of course, anything that drops on the floor - such as this Jalapeno pepper, which fell on the floor while I was making "Garnachoes."

Teeth Marked Jalapeno 

So if anyone cares, I am a glutton for my Yorkie puppies and except full responsibility for their care and upbringing. Thet have been potty trained (sort of) since they were three weeks. They are healthy, have all their shots, and one by one or getting neutered. We never expected for Zoie and Zack to have five puppies, but even more so was the fact that I simply could not sell any of them, particularly after being there from birth through it all.

I am Lizzie and I Love to Kissie You

I watched as Zoie would rush into the puppy palace and nod her head then bark as if she was counting to make sure all puppies were accounted for.  Call me crazy - I am - crazy for my Yorkies and well not having a well-made bed --- who gives a d_ mn!

We no longer have a four poster bed that one needed a ladder to climb into. All the puppies can climb easily in and out, but more importantly, so can my husband, "Bud the Plumber,"  when the puppies let him that is.

.

Why is Bethania North Carolina a National Treasure and a Landmark Town?

On June 12, 2011, the tiny town of Bethania, North Carolina will turn 252 years old. On this coming Saturday June 11 the town will hold a celebration honoring this event. Few towns in our country, even any country can boast of such extensive record taking, or documentation of family histories. Although the beginnings of Bethania are deeply rooted in the Moravian Religion which is the oldest protestant religion in the worlds, the town itself was settled by both Moravian and non-Moravian families. 


Bethania, North Carolina, is the last of its line,a pioneer town founded on June 12, 1759, out of the need to establish the roots of religious freedom. A historically significant town, Bethania is the first planned Moravian town lot in the Wachovia tract of North Carolina. Listed on the State and National Registers of Historic Places, the town became a National Landmark in 2001. 

Colonial homes, some still lived in by descendants of the first white Moravian settlers, line Bethania’s main street and are symbols of how so much of the town’s character remains intact. Simple yet elegantly understated, the homes represent the regional architecture of the colonial era in which they were built.

The homes have names, attesting to former owners. On the corner of Loesch Lane and Main Street is a tall, stately house that bears the name Johann Christian Loesch. Loesch’s son, Israel, was a U.S. representative during Reconstruction and president of the Cape Fear Bank and the First National Bank in Salem, which became Wachovia Bank. Across the street on the opposite corner is the Cornwallis house, given the name of a Revolutionary War general who spent the night in the home during a raid and subsequent encampment in the town.

Beyond the distinction of its Main Street homes standing as monuments to an earlier century, Bethania was once a thriving industrial and trade town. The Great Wagon Road of the colonial era brought soldiers, settlers and slaves through the town daily. The longest and costliest plank road of the pre–Civil War South ran 129 miles from Fayetteville on the Carolina coast and ended at the corner of Main Street and Loesch Lane.

What is unique about Bethania today is its history as a community that began as an experiment in melding cultures. Its first settlers were chosen from Moravian and non-Moravian families who created the town in a hostile frontier. In 1766, Bethanians helped found the town of Salem in the newly formed colony of North Carolina, thus contributing to the birth of our nation. 

My book, Bethania: The Village by the Black Walnut Bottom, published in 2009 by The History Press is not just a history of the founding of Bethania, but of people who carved a life from an untamed frontier. Many families grew, multiplied, and spread into other regions of this country. Eventually many would fight their own relatives in a civil war for different causes and even become permanently separated from their ancestry.

Please join the town of Bethania on Saturday June 11th. And if you are interested in reading more history of Bethania, excerpts from the book can be found at http://antiquesinbethania.com/bethaniabook%20excerpts.html.

Slave Cabin

The images in the book are from original glass negatives taken by J. L. Kapp around the turn of the century and modern day photography by Bowman Gray IV, whose recently published book, As A Man Thinketh and Bo's original photography, can be found here, http://www.blairpub.com/alltitles/asmanthinketh.htm or VISIT WFDD for an audio interview with Bo and I and David Ford.



   

Double Exposure: Meet the Stoap Twins (Part Two) by Bev Hamel

Give us your “elevator speech” about who you are besides being the Stoap Twins of Million Dollar Listing fame.

We are definitely individuals with unique personalities who happen to be best friends and love working together! Marissa is sort of the communicator, because both in real estate and in our personal lives she is the social butterfly. She loves making the calls, doing the planning, and getting people together for business or for fun! Julianna is super tenacious, she’s the negotiator. Julianna never takes no for an answer and is always coming up with creative ways to take our careers to the next level. Not to mention her ability to get us through any door or to the front of any concert without fail! We were raised on real estate by our parents, who have been top-producing Realtors for nearly 20 years. After getting our degrees from USC, we found that real estate was definitely in our blood… and that we loved the idea of pursuing a career together where we could achieve an unlimited amount of success. After all, you are your own boss in real estate, and the sky is the limit! What sets us apart from other agents is that you really do get two for the price of one! We each bring individual skills to the table and are an unstoppable team. Also, we are extremely hands on with our clients and extremely communicative. We take every phone call (seriously, at all hours!) to make sure the people we work with feel comfortable and know exactly what’s going on. We also have a rare combination of elements in our business: We’re young with fresh, creative ways of marketing and demonstrating the exciting lifestyle each listing can offer, coupled with a great deal of knowledge, several years experience, and literally growing up hearing about and learning about real estate every day. Read More at All Things Girl . . .

Double Exposure: Meet the Stoap Twins (Part One)

Meet Julianna and Marissa Stoap, the New Twin Secret Weapon(s) of Bravo’s Hit Reality TV Series, Million Dollar Listing (Part One)
The real estate market is in a funk everywhere yet Million Dollar Listing, now in its fourth season, is still a success despite the recession. The show really is not just about the glamorous high-end luxury properties of the market but inter-personal drama and the three “bad boys of real estate” who admittedly “will do anything possible to sell the dream.” Enter newcomer Josh Altman who replaced Chad Rogers and has an entourage of assistants, though crazy Mickey is his main man. Madison Hildebrand announced he was gay at the end of last season and takes on a straight female assistant named Heather. Then there is Josh Flagg who has his grandmother, the queen of polyester, famed Edith Flagg for advice, and who advises Josh to hire an assistant as long as he/she has clean fingernails. Josh decides two blonde heads are better than one and takes on two interns as opposed to one assistant. Read more at All Things Girl . . .

Jelly Beans, Nightmares, and a Moravian Brass Band

My husband, Bud the Plumber brought home Jelly Beans from the Fresh Market last Saturday along with $400.00 worth of other purchases from assorted stores throughout Forsyth County for our Easter feasts (which, were carefully planned and budgeted though he exceeded the budget).

“I already got Jelly Beans at the Dollar tree,” I told him.

“These are gourmet. They’re Jelly Belly’s and they come in a hundred different flavors. I got you your favorite – black – the licorice ones. See – they’re all at the bottom of the bag.”

Indeed they were – in a small bag, barely one fourth the size of the bag I purchased for $1.00. The price tag based on weight, would have sent the National debt into doomsday (which, coincidently, was the title of the local paper’s business section this morning. I mention this because the size of the national debt, the size of my local paper, the size of the no-name bag of jelly beans, the size of the gourmet bag of Jelly beans and the fact that the US Banking System will no longer offer free checks, are my next blog, and why I had nightmares last night).

Bethania Moravian Brass Band 1900 Image

I had to eat all the other beans from the bag in order to get to the black Jelly Bellies. Obviously there was a flavor that disagreed with me, and gave me nightmares, which, began about two AM.

I had fallen asleep when suddenly, a band playing brass instruments was serenading me outside my window and I was being profusely kissed by a hundred or so tongues. I sat up, fumbled for the bed light and said damn, while my other hand tried to find the TV clicker.

Seven Yorkie puppies attacked me in unison, one dropped the TV clicker, (which, I really had been certain that I turned off the TV because my glasses were off and my book closed and by the lamp).

Angel Yorkies

We normally only have six Yorkie puppies in bed, but this weekend, our youngest daughter was here to celebrate Easter with us because she knew her dad would buy gourmet Jelly Bellies. She brought our first born girl Yorkie, Mizzie, who had to sleep with all her brothers and sisters, as well as mom, dad, and us. Thankfully they are small dogs, weigh less then one full grown Golden Retriever or the like – but oh – they often seem like 101 Dalmatians.    

Okay, so back to finding the TV clicker AKA remote (which, may disintegrate at a moments notice because of the thousand of tiny razor sharp teeth marks that cover the plastic).  We will be SOL if this no longer works because the BIG Screen TV, which we purchased at Sam’s Club, only operates by REMOTE (This will be another rant one day because the TV has NO buttons etc on the TV itself).

Anyway, the Brass Band I thought I heard was real and still playing.

Bethania Easter Sunrise 1950s

“We’re late for Easter Sunrise Service, I thought even though it was next to impossible to be late for this memorable Moravian Easter tradition because we live across the street from our Church. It sounded very clearly that the service had already started.

I leaned over the bed and looked at the clock.  Of course, how could I forget – Moravian tradition, celebrated for centuries - the Night Watch. and the early morning call of the brass instruments for all to wake. Here in Bethania, the brass instruments have played the same notes for more then 250 years, and I think last night, the band added something new because I most definitely heard a voice that said, “If this doesn’t wake them nothing will.”

Mom Zoie . . . Leader of the Pack

The puppies agreed and proceeded to add their own version of a brass band calling a small Moravian town awake to celebrate the promise and hope for a new beginning.  However, next year, I think I'll ask for a separate bag of black Jelly Beans and get a new remote control that is encased in metal. 

Viruses, Death, Taxes . . . and Why I'm Ready for Spring

March has been a busy month for me. Three of my computers contacted viruses, died, and although now resuscitated, (almost) I lost a lot of data even though I did do a back up on an external drive, but I think the drives may have a virus as well.

Yesterday I killed two space heaters, not intentionally, but because of my clumsiness. The first one was by my desk in my shop.  I was so excited after spending all week completing my taxes and e-filing them myself, that I jumped from my chair in celebration and knocked the heater over, breaking off the wheels and the cover. Dead - and rendered utterly useless. Oh well I thought, Spring is almost here, the birds are singing, the weather outside comfortable, the building finally heating up on its own, and at least my taxes are done.

But I didn't stop there. After closing up the shop and going to upstairs to our home, I opened up the back porch to accommodate the puppies - six of them, then sat down at my desk, and proceeded to knock over an identical heater, which also broke its wheels, flipped off the cover, and rendered it useless.

At least I have my taxes done and I'll be able to use my refund to buy massive quantities of Spring cleaning supplies at the Dollar Tree! 

March Issue of All Things Girl

An American Portrait: Chief John Grass by Bev Hamel

It is January and I am taking a break from my MFA residency at Goddard College in Vermont. I just finished trekking through snow into the town of Plainfield to visit my favorite haunt – an obscure little bookstore that bursts with endless shelves of books no longer in print.  The proprietor recognizes me as I have purchased many books from him during my almost two years at Goddard. He leads me through winding rooms into what was once a kitchen area, climbs a ladder and then brings down a heavy box. He tells me, “We just got these books in from an estate. I haven’t had a chance to catalogue them yet, but you are welcome to take a look.”
read more at All Things Girl!