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Jessica Davison Haverland
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December 2023 FEATURES 43 Snowbird Poetry by Maura Way 44 A Fresh Take on Faux for the Holidays By Cynthia Adams
Elevating favorite collections 50 It Slices. It Dices. By Stephen E. Smith 54 Burlington Industries Celebrates a Centennial By Ross Howell Jr. Following the thread of a financial genius 58 A Dose of Happy By Cassie Bustamante With a touch of love, the ordinary becomes extraordinary 69 December Almanac By Ashley Walshe
DEPARTMENTS 9 Chaos Theory
By Cassie Bustamante
13 Simple Life
34 The Pleasures of Life Dept.
By David Claude Bailey
36 Home Grown
By Jim Dodson
By Cynthia Adams
16 Sazerac 21 Tea Leaf Astrologer
By Susan Campbell
By Zora Stellanova
23 Life’s Funny
By Maria Johnson
27 The Omnivorous Reader
By Anne Blythe
30 Art of the State
By Liza Roberts
39 Birdwatch
40 Wandering Billy
By Billy Ingram
83 Events Calendar 107 GreenScene 112 O.Henry Ending Cover Photograph by Amy Freeman
Fine Eyewear by Appointment 327 South Elm | Greensboro 336.274.1278 | TheViewOnElm.com Becky Causey, Licensed Optician
M A G A Z I N E
Volume 13, No. 12 “I have a fancy that every city has a voice.”
336.617.0090 111 Bain Street, Suite 324, Greensboro, NC 27406
www.ohenrymag.com PUBLISHER
The Art
of Living
David Woronoff david@thepilot.com Andie Rose, Creative Director andiesouthernpines@gmail.com Cassie Bustamante, Editor cassie@ohenrymag.com Jim Dodson, Editor at Large jwdauthor@gmail.com Miranda Glyder, Graphic Designer
MEET CARL HEIN AND KARL STAUBER As highly skilled woodworkers, Carl and Karl love making things—furniture, bowls, jewelry, and more. Now, thanks to their efforts to bring a new fully-equipped and stand-alone woodshop to Arbor Acres, the men have a dedicated place to work and share with other residents. “We have a full collection of high-quality tools,” says Karl. “And safety is a key feature,” Carl adds, referring to detailed training sessions. Arbor Acres is happy to continue fulfilling the visions of our residents, who continue to make this place alive with their creative energy.
Discover life in all its shining brilliance at Arbor Acres.
CONTRIBUTING EDITORS
Cynthia Adams, David Claude Bailey, Maria Johnson CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS
Mallory Cash, Lynn Donovan, Amy Freeman, Bert VanderVeen, Mark Wagoner CONTRIBUTORS
Harry Blair, Anne Blythe, Susan Campbell, Wiley Cash, Sam Froelich, Ross Howell Jr., Billy Ingram, Gerry O’Neill, Stephen E. Smith, Zora Stellanova, Ashley Walshe, Amberly Glitz Weber ADVERTISING SALES
Marty Hefner, Advertising Advisor Lisa Allen 336.210.6921 • lisa@ohenrymag.com Amy Grove 336.456.0827 • amy@ohenrymag.com Brad Beard, Graphic Designer Jennifer Bunting, Advertising Coordinator ohenrymag@ohenrymag.com Henry Hogan, Finance Director 910.693.2497 Darlene Stark, Subscriptions & Circulation Director • 910.693.2488
Arbor Acres is a Continuing Care Retirement Community affiliated with the Western NC Conference of the United Methodist Church. 1240 Arbor Road, Winston-Salem, NC 27104 arboracres.org • (336) 724-7921
6 O.Henry
OWNERS
Jack Andrews, Frank Daniels III, Lee Dirks, David Woronoff In memoriam Frank Daniels Jr. © Copyright 2023. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission is prohibited. O.Henry Magazine is published by The Pilot LLC
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
MAKING SPACE FOR WHAT BELONGS
We believe that beautifully ordered spaces in the home bring peace, comfort and joy. That’s why this holiday season we’re giving O.Henry readers the gift of $500 off their minimum purchase of $2,500 at California Closets. Book a complimentary design consultation with one of our designers today.* 336.763.4874 CaliforniaClosets.com
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10 HAPPENS HERE.
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chaos theory
Breaking the Friendship (Blow) Mold A tacky piece of nostalgia glows in remembrance By Cassie Bustamante
As a former vintage home store owner,
PHOTOGRAPH BY JOHN GESSNER
I love all things vintage Christmas. Atomic-era tinsel trees? Yes, please! Shiny Bright ornaments? My attic screams, “Got those!” Bottlebrush trees? I have as many as Ariel has thingamabobs: 20. Actually, probably more. But one quintessential decoration that dominated the ’50s and ’60s holiday scene I’ve never been terribly fond of: blow molds. That is, until recently. As it turns out, the tackiest tchotchke can light up the temporal lobe of your brain, where the fondest memories live, long after a loss. What are blow molds, you ask? The tawdriest of yuletide kitsch, they are generally large, hollow, plastic figurines, designed to be used outside on lawns, porches or rooftops, in the shape of snowmen, Santa, angels, candy canes, you name it. And, you guessed it, they’re illuminated from within, like glowworms. Sarah, my shop co-owner, and I agreed on most things. In fact, in our almost five-year partnership, we never had a real dispute and we understood the rarity of that. What we did have was a mutual sarcastic, dark sense of humor. We shared snarky inside jokes that only we understood; 10-hour road trips to the beach, just the two of us and our combined lot of four kids; a love for ’80s songs. Without fail, every time she walked in the shop’s front door, I’d serenade her with Jefferson Starship’s “Sara.” We were not exactly twins. Physically, Sarah, whose sandybrown hair cascaded in natural waves, was much shorter. When we’d try to move furniture around the shop together, she’d remind me that she had “T-rex arms” and couldn’t wrap herself around long dressers like I could with my own, which are unusually long. While we both valued fitness, she was devoted to her gym routine and lifted weights, and I relished in long, solo runs. And Christmas? We both whole-heartedly loved the season — the music, the vintage decor, the cozy wool sweaters. We ran full-speed-ahead when it came to decorating our shop for the
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
holidays. Bowls were filled with shimmering ornaments. Lights were strung throughout, draping over gilded gesso mirrors and winding around vintage flocked trees. And every year in the late summer and early fall, we’d roll up in our SUVs, trunks full of holiday finds to sprinkle throughout. Much to my dismay — Sarah’s truck would always haul in a stash of blow molds. Sarah would walk in and sheepishly grin at me, knowing the disdain I held for their cheap, plastic aura. But, I knew, this store was not mine — it was ours. And while nothing, of course, comes to mind, I probably brought in some dreck Sarah wasn’t especially fond of. Maybe. In 2016, both of us ready to move on, we made the tough decision to sell our store. She wanted to get back to the career she’d abandoned when she’d had her kids. And I wanted to add another babe to my own brood. With gratitude for what we’d built together, we let it go, selling it to a pair of sisters who’ve taken it farther than we’d ever hoped. Of course, we stayed in touch and got together when her work schedule allowed. She came to my shower when I did, indeed, carry another baby, Wilder, in my belly and she gave me some of my favorite onesies, complete with humorous wordplay: “gangsta napper,” for example. Shortly after he was born, we moved to Greensboro. Again, Sarah and I kept in touch as time allowed, often via texts laced with those jokes that only we would understand. Then, in October of 2021, Sarah died suddenly. And though my iPhone incessantly tells me I need to clean out or upgrade my storage, I keep our text chain. One message, in particular, stands out. Me: “Just wanted to say hi and I miss you — I think of you more than I make the effort to message you. Sweet Clover [our shop] feels like another lifetime.” Sarah: “I could have written this text, too. Think of you all the time and our hijinks.” As Christmas approaches this year, I spend many evenings cruising my Starmount neighborhood with my family, admiring the blinking and glittering lights and yard decorations throughout. And every time we pass a vintage blow mold, its warm glow of red, white and green mocks me with the playful sarcasm of a close friend. OH Cassie Bustamante is editor of O.Henry magazine. O.Henry 9
THIS YEAR, STIR UP SOME NEW HOLIDAY MEMORIES. All throughout November and December, you’ll find holiday cheer in great abundance everywhere you turn in Alamance County. Picture postcard sights, sounds and celebrations immerse you in a magical backdrop that transports you to another place and time. Take in holiday concerts and events filled with entertainment, holiday treats, and traditions. Discover that perfect gift, bauble or decoration. And see the enchantment unfold before your eyes. Christmas at Alamance Arts: 11/18 - 12/24 Mebane Christmas Parade: 12/1 Holiday Magic: 12/7
You’ll find small surprises lead to big memories in Alamance County.
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May your Holidays be filled with Peace and Joy FROM THE REVOLUTION MILL FAMILY
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2023 Phase Change Solutions LLC
Investment
$4
US Headquarters New Jobs: 51
Marshall USA LLC
ImpactData
The Dream Center New Jobs: 28
New Jobs: 85
Investment
$50 MILLION
Investment
$130 MILLION
Toyota
Electric Vehicle Battery Plant New Jobs: 3,000
Facility Expansion
MILLION
Aircraft Maintenance & Engineering Facility New Jobs: 240
TAT Piedmont
Investment
$10.1 BILLION
Investment
$13.8 MILLION
Honda Aircraft Company
Facility Expansion New Jobs: 280
ProKidney
Bio-manufacturing Facility New Jobs: 330
Investment
$55.7 MILLION
Investment
$458 MILLION
The State of the City is strong. These metrics provide a snapshot of achievements in 2023. There is an enormous shift taking place and the face of Greensboro is changing…hence the term Greensbooming.
Total Investment
$10.8 BILLION
Total investment of these economic development projects is nearly $10.8 B.
simple life
Let It Snow Remembrance of a small Christmas miracle
By Jim Dodson
It’s December
ILLUSTRATION BY GERRY O'NEILL
and, without fail, I’m thinking about snow.
Thanks to Bing Crosby and Irving Berlin’s Oscar-winning song from the 1942 musical film Holiday Inn, the idea of a “White Christmas” is deeply ingrained in the psyche of anyone who loves the holidays. I’m no different. I dig everything about Christmas from the ancient story of a savior’s birth to the faux snow of sappy Hallmark holiday movies. But my love affair with the white stuff goes much deeper than that. My first taste of snow came in South Carolina in 1959, where my dad worked for a year at a small-town newspaper after he’d lost his own weekly newspaper in Mississippi. Shortly before Christmas, a freak snowstorm shut down the entire town for a couple days. My mother, who grew up in the Allegheny Mountains of western Maryland, where it snowed heavily every winter, allowed my brother and me to take a large antique serving tray to the nearby golf course, where we would slide down the hill, along with every kid in town. All through town, snowballs flew through the air and snow angels spread their wings. The snow barely lasted a day, but it was nothing short of magical to this wide-eyed kid of 6. Better yet, we spent that New Year (and many thereafter) in snowy Cumberland, among my mother’s people, a wintry clan of big, blond, German aunts and uncles who seemed to celebrate the snowy season with roaring fires and lively gatherings. I remember going outside during a rowdy family New Year’s Eve party just to stand in the knee-deep snow outside my Aunt Fanny’s house, marveling at the beauty and still silence of the falling snow. Not long after we moved to Greensboro in January 1960, it snowed there, too. My dad took me to Western Auto and The Art & Soul of Greensboro
bought me a Flexible Flyer sled. Our hilly neighborhood street got blocked off and briefly turned into a miniature Olympic bobsled run. In those days, long before global warming was a concern, it seemed to snow at least two or three times every winter across North Carolina’s Piedmont. This fact was confirmed at my recent 50th high school reunion, where the shared memory of several deep snows during the 1960s and ’70s seemed to be a popular topic of discussion. “I remember how exciting it was to go to bed when a snowstorm was predicted,” remembered my friend, Cindy. “Waking up to find it had snowed and school was cancelled was like Christmas morning all over again.” It was during those years that I made a silent vow to someday live in snow country. This idea was probably put into my head by my English teacher, Miss Elizabeth Smith, who gave me the Collected Poems of Robert Frost for winning the city’s O.Henry Award for short-story writing. The poet’s very name said winter and whispered to me like a siren call from Homer. Whose woods these are I think I know / His house is in the village though / He will not see me stopping here / To watch his woods fill up with snow. Someday, I told myself, that fellow will be me. After six years in Atlanta covering crime, politics and social mayhem for the oldest Sunday magazine in the nation, I turned down a job as a reporter in Washington, D.C., that for years I yearned for and took a job as the first senior writer for Yankee Magazine, moving to a bend of the Green River outside of Brattleboro, Vermont. The snow was already falling when I got there in late November 1983, taking possession of a tidy tworoom cabin heated only by a wood stove. I promptly got myself a retriever pup from the Windham County Humane Society and spent a glorious winter reading every poem, philosopher and piece of literature I could lay hands on. Walking with my dog in the blue dusk of an arctic evening, I came to love the brilliance of the winter stars and finally got to see the Northern lights. O.Henry 13
simple life It was the most solitary and wonderful winter of my life. No surprise, I suppose, that my first wife and I eventually built a post-and-beam house on a forested hilltop near the coast of Maine, where we raised our babies to be outdoor adventurers, especially in winter when the deep snows came. My daughter, Maggie, was born at dawn after an overnight blizzard. I remember driving home to feed the dogs at our cottage on Bailey Island as the sun came out, illuminating a world made pure and peaceful by blankets of snow. I’d never been happier. On particularly clear and frigid nights, I would put on my red wool Elmer Fudd jacket and tote a large bag of sorghum pellets though the knee-deep snow to the edge of the forest, where a family of whitetail deer and other forest creatures could often be seen feeding in the moonlight. That became the source of many bedtime stories I made up for my young adventurers. They still mention those silly winter tales to this day. One year, however, there was no snow on the ground right up to Christmas Eve. Our Episcopal church decided to hold its evening service in the Settlemeyer family’s barn. Maggie and her brother Jack played a sheep and a cow, respectively, in the annual Christmas Pageant and I was asked to bring along my guitar and play “Silent Night” to conclude the service. A large crowd in parkas and snowsuits turned out to fill the barn, shivering among the sheep pens as the ancient story of a
savior’s birth was retold. At one point Maggie asked with a whisper if I thought it might snow that night. I assured her it probably would because Santa needed snow for his sleigh. The candles were lit and I played the beloved Christmas hymn, first performed in Austria on Christmas Eve 1818, in the aftermath of the Napoleonic Wars. Since that time, the hymn has been translated into 300 languages. That night, as we all huddled together with the barn door firmly shut against a sharp northern wind, a Christmas miracle of sorts took place outside. When the doors were opened and we all filed out, pausing to exchange hugs and wish each other “Merry Christmas,” someone suddenly cried with a voice of pure childlike wonder: “Oh, look . . . it’s snowing!” Indeed it was — big, dreamy flakes floating down as if on cue from either Bing Crosby or Heaven itself, like an answered prayer. Whichever it was, by the time we reached our wooded hilltop, the world was pure white and the night was very silent indeed. We woke to two feet of fresh snow the next morning. No Christmas since has come without remembering that magical Christmas Eve. And that’s why I still hold out hope for snow every December. OH Jim Dodson is the founding editor of O.Henry.
Merry Christmas
New traditions and memories start at new addresses
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
O.Henry 15
SAZERAC
"A spirited forum of Gate City food, drink, history, art, events, rumors and eccentrics worthy of our famous namesake"
Unsolicited Advice
Window to the Past
Our fav cold weather activity is staying inside under a weighted blanket. But in the spirit of celebrating the winter solstice, we’re tossing off the covers and steppin’ out. 1. According to our partner, we’re always skating on thin ice. May as well test that skill outside on thick ice at Piedmont Winterfest located in LeBauer Park. Don’t miss Tuesday night curling. Just one question — foam or hot rollers? 2. Heart-pumping exercise always warms us up. How about rushing through local shops while carrying heavy bags? You — and your credit card — will get a workout . 3. Hot cocoa anyone? Hit up one of Greensboro’s many coffee spots for a mug of steaming milk chocolate with whipped cream. Into chocolate mint? Forget the peppermint crumbles and bring on a hot shot of peppermint schnapps instead.
PHOTOGRAPH © CAROL W. MARTIN/GREENSBORO HISTORY MUSEUM COLLECTION
"What kind of tree did you say this was, Betty?" "It's a shrub. Just keep stringing it with tinsel and no one will know." (Coeds at Greensboro College decorate a Christmas tree in the 1940s.)
4. We’re often told to take a hike when offering friendly advice, and now’s the perfect time. The local trails are sure to be a little less people-y. Just you and nature. And maybe a black bear who’s prepping for winter, too. NBD — bring a trailmate you can outrun. 5. And the activity we’re looking forward to most? Walking back into our warm home and sending a note of thanks to the heavens for Alice Parker, who patented the first central heating system. Siri, put the fireplace screensaver on TV — we need a little winter ambience.
16 O.Henry
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
sazerac
Just One Thing The artist ransome, the full name he goes by, writes on his website (ransomeart.com), “My artwork centers on my African-American lineage, which is traced back to sharecroppers of the American South who migrated to Northern cities along the East Coast.” Born in Rich Square, a tiny town east of Roanoke Rapids, he was raised by his grandmother before moving to New Jersey as part of the Great Migration of African Americans seeking broader economic and educational opportunities. With a B.F.A. from Pratt Institute and
an M.F.A. from Lesley University, ransome writes, “My pictorial narratives are personal, yet the symbols I use are universal and interplay with larger social, racial, ancestral, economic and political histories that inform our nation to this day.” His work, “Come Sunday, You Can’t Hide,” 2022, is a collage on exhibit as part of Art on Paper, Weatherspoon’s biennial show that features artists “who demonstrate the breadth of ways in which one can deploy the humble medium of paper to extraordinary ends.”
Last Call: O.Henry
Essay Contest
Several years ago, readers responded enthusiastically to a contest challenging them to write an essay entitled “My Life in a Thousand Words.” Last year, we revived our challenge with a theme of “The Year That Changed Everything.” And this year, in honor of our namesake, who was known as one of America’s most popular — and highest-paid during his time — short story writers, we’re thrilled to announce that the 2023 O.Henry Essay Contest is all about “The Kindness of Strangers.” We’ve all had a moment in our lives when someone we didn’t know stopped without hesitation to lend a hand. And now, we want to hear your story — whether you were on the receiving or giving end. Of course, there are some rules: • Submit no more than 1,000 words in conventional printed form. Essays over 1,000 will be shredded and used in our office hamster’s cage. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
• Deadline to enter is December 24, 2023. • Top three winners will be contacted via email and will be printed in a spring 2024 issue. • Email entries to cassie@ohenrymag.com We can’t wait to hear the clickety-clack of keyboards across the Triad as you write your stories — stories that are sure to remind us of all the goodness that exists in the world. — Cassie Bustamante, editor O.Henry 17
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18 O.Henry
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
sazerac
Sage Gardener One of my favorite memories of Christmases past is anticipating what gardening tool Wofford Malphrus, my late father-in-law, was going to give me. In the spirit of his generosity and thoughtfulness, the Sage Gardener polled the elite testing unit of gardeners at O.Henry and came up with a list of sugarplums for the naughtiest and nicest gardeners on your list.
ILLUSTRATION BY MIRANDA GLYDER
Editor Cassie Bustamante was the first to answer: “It’s cheap, fits in a stocking and is a miracle worker on hardworking hands: Badger Balm,” she writes. “I grab mine at Deep Roots. And don’t worry. Not made from real badgers.” In fact, it was “created by Badger Bill to soothe his rough carpenter’s hands during a fierce New England winter,” says the website: www.badgerbalm.com. “It’s packed with antioxidant-rich ingredients like beeswax and extra virgin olive oil and formulated with wintergreen oil.” O.Henry’s garden writer, Ross Howell Jr., suggests a packet of wildflower seeds from American Meadows, Shelburne, Vermont. Half an hour after typing in www.americanmeadows.com, the idea of a gift for someone else wilted and I couldn’t decide whether I wanted the pollinator wildflower mix, the butterfly-andhummingbird mix, the Indian blanket seeds or love-lies-bleeding. Plus, I discovered that some people actually BUY and PLANT morning glory seeds. Since I have the greatest abundance of them, maybe I should gift them instead of American Meadows’ carefully curated seeds? “Life’s Funny,” Maria Johnson reminds us every month, but there’s no funny business about manure from this backyard gardener. She swears by Daddy Pete’s Plant Pleaser’s line of products, deposited right here in North Carolina. Maria gets hers at Guilford Garden Center. Read all The Art & Soul of Greensboro
about it at www.daddypetes.com/story, as in, “Something that seems to be spent or dead to one, brings life to another. Thus it is with Daddy Pete’s Cow Manure and the belief that we help you grow.” Can you say, Pete and repeat? Photographer and world traveler Lynn Donovan says, “For the movers and shapers of the gardening world, Felco Pruning Shears are the bomb.” Made in Switzerland and extremely rugged, this could be the last pair of shears you buy. After all, they are guaranteed for life. Cutting to the point, my question always is, my life or the product’s life? My daughter is itching to tell you about Tecnu. Got poison ivy or oak in your yard or garden? (Of course you do.) Tecnu is a specially formulated soap that washes off urushiol, the sticky stuff that makes you look leprous and drives you nuts. The sooner you apply Tecnu, the better it works, but you’ve got up to eight hours! “Don’t be fooled by the power of urushiol!” says the website, teclabsinc.com/product/tecnu-original-outdoor-skin-cleanser. “The resin from poison ivy is incredibly potent and lasts for months, even years on certain items.” I can confirm that, as on car seats. Me? According to the Farmer’s Almanac, this winter may be colder than usual. I
suggest you curl up on the couch with Beautiful Madness: One Man’s Journey Through Other People’s Gardens by no less than Jim Dodson. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? Read about exotic day lilies and stolen cuttings from a Founding Father’s shrubbery. Then hang out with Jim as he himself hangs perilously from a limb on the side of a cliff akin to Mount Crumpit in search of rare Southern African plants: www.jamesdodsonauthor.com/ beautiful-madness. Let’s give the last word to Cynthia Adams. And no, she doesn’t draw from her mother’s or father’s gardening experience on the ranchette where she grew up, Hell’s Half-Acre, though she does turn to the theme of pain. “I swear by Willow Balm, a topical painkiller in a tube.” Natureswillow.com/products/willowbalm-pain-relieving-cream, though she gets hers at Tractor Supply. “I carry it with me and use it so often, Jim Dodson once accused me of eating it on toast for breakfast.” Since it contains white willow bark extract, menthol, camphor, eucalyptus oil and geranium oil, we don’t recommend regular consumption, but, says Cindy, “When I’ve overdone repotting, moving heavy pots, digging, this stuff IS the balm. My doc likes it, too.” In no time, that black-and-blue thumb will be green. — David Claude Bailey O.Henry 19
Wishing you a blessed holiday season from our family to yours.
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20 O.Henry
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
tea leaf astrologer
Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21)
A little heat goes a long way. When provoked — unwittingly or otherwise — your particular brand of fire belongs on the Scoville scale, ambushing the offender with fits of nausea, abdominal pain and/or any number of unmentionable side effects. Here’s the thing: They’re not out to get you, nor are they trying to hold you back. This month, new opportunities beckon. Best not to let the petty stuff distract you from seeing them.
Tis the Season to knit
1614-C WEST FRIENDLY AVENUE GREENSBORO, NC 27403 336-272-2032 stitchpoint@att.net
Tea leaf “fortunes” for the rest of you:
TUESDAY - SATURDAY 10:30 TO 4:00 CLOSED ON MONDAYS AND SUNDAYS
Capricorn (December 22 – January 19)
Batten down the hatches. Aquarius (January 20 – February 18)
Mind what’s on the back burner. Pisces (February 19 – March 20)
Just text them back already. Aries (March 21 – April 19)
THIS HOLIDAY SEASON, GIVE THE
GIFT OF HEALTH
Try fluffing your pillow.
Schedule your mammogram
Taurus (April 20 – May 20)
Salt will enhance the flavor.
and encourage friends and family to as well.
Gemini (May 21 – June 20)
It’s time to clean the mirror.
Mammography at
Cancer (June 21 – July 22)
TWO locations in Winston-Salem & Kernersville.
What if the obstacle is the greatest blessing? Leo (July 23 – August 22)
Consider adding “sun lamp” to your wish list. Virgo (August 23 – September 22)
You’ll get there when you get there. Libra (September 23 – October 22)
Scan to request your appointment today!
Abstain from the deviled eggs. Scorpio (October 23 – November 21)
You must believe it to achieve it. OH Zora Stellanova has been divining with tea leaves since Game of Thrones’ Starbucks cup mishap of 2019. While she’s not exactly a medium, she’s far from average. She lives in the N.C. foothills with her Sphynx cat, Lyla. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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O.Henry 21
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life's funny
Moon Shadow A look at the bright side of solar eclipses By Maria Johnson
His answer was so Gen Z.
When I texted our younger son to ask what it was like to witness October’s solar eclipse in Oregon, he responded with a photo of him crouching and pointing, mouth agape, to the cloudy sky. His picture, a nod to a popular meme, was a joke. Under Oregon’s seemingly forever overcast dome, he couldn’t see squat. And even though he was in the swath where the moon’s shadow would be the darkest, the skies didn’t seem much dimmer than usual. Here on the East Coast, we understood from news reports the shade would be almost imperceptible, but the main event should be visible. Technically called an annular eclipse, as opposed to a total eclipse, the moon would glide between us and the sun, appearing to punch a hole in ol’ Sol and making our life-giving star look like a ring of fire for a few minutes. To get a good look we’d probably need a solar-filtered telescope, so our plan was to drive to Guilford Technical Community College’s Jamestown campus and take a gander through the lenses set up in a parking lot under the guidance of
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Tom English, director of the school’s Cline Observatory. In case you don’t know, one of the coolest things about living here is that you can stargaze, for free, through the observatory’s big telescope on most Friday nights with Tom and friends. The sights — magnified to nearly 200 times what the unaided eye can see — range from close-ups of the Earth’s moon to planets such as Jupiter and Saturn, to the Andromeda galaxy. For big sky doings, like solar eclipses, the observatory folks set up smaller telescopes in open areas. Alas, the October eclipse was mostly a bust here, too. Clouds and rain obscured the view. But on another gloomy day, we got luckier. It was a little more than six years ago, August 21, 2017, when my husband and I drove to the mountain town of Brevard to experience a total eclipse — one where the moon is so close to the earth it blots out the sun entirely in the same way holding up your hand to block the sun works better if your hand is closer to your face. It was a Monday. The workday was going to be relatively slow and we were empty-nesters, so why settle for mere dimness in Greensboro when we could drive three hours and be plunged into total darkness at midday? Sounded like a good time. And it was. Brevard, known for its small liberal-arts college and a worldO.Henry 23
life's funny
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24 O.Henry
class summer music festival, was giddy that day. People lined up for free solarviewing glasses (limit one per person). Some businesses hawked eclipse merch. We bought two gray T-shirts at the office of the local newspaper. One of its designers had come up with a brilliant graphic — a flaming ring of white, representing the sun’s corona, anchored by a white squirrel, the town’s mascot, sitting at the bottom of the loop. We grabbed a sandwich at a local cafe, then walked a few blocks and unfolded our camp chairs inside the handsome stone gates of Brevard College, which welcomed the celestial seekers. On the vast lawn, Frisbees flew, soccer balls bounced. Someone played a banjo as we all waited, not knowing if our efforts would be rewarded. The sky had pulled a soft gray shawl of clouds over her shoulder. It was a laughable situation. Humans can predict, to the second, when an eclipse will occur, but if it’s cloudy, game over for a high-resolution view. There was nothing to do but chill. The crowd thickened. The clouds thinned. Shortly before the eclipse was due, the sun popped out. It was a small miracle, one that happens almost every day, but in this context it felt personal. The sun and moon would come through for us. We felt the moon’s shadow gradually, in the way you feel the temperature dip when storm clouds roll in. Deeper we slid into darkness. It was about 1:30 in the afternoon. The automatic streetlights came on. The night birds chirped. The crickets, tricked into thinking the day was done, struck up a ringing chant. Through cardboard glasses with lenses of sun-safe black film, we watched the disc of the moon slide in front of the sun until only the faintest solar halo, the sun’s corona, was visible. The crowd fell silent, and the sound of clicking cell phone cameras competed with the crickets. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
life's funny This was big. Bigger than us. Way bigger. Then something remarkable happened — everyone broke out in spontaneous applause and woo-hoos. A communal standing ovation. It reminded me of watching the sunset at Pass-a-Grille Beach in Florida, where the disappearance of a neon orange ball into the Gulf of Mexico is punctuated by cheers and the ringing of a brass bell on the beach. Only this was not a practiced response. There was no tradition to be observed. It felt like a visceral gesture of human bonding and gratitude. Brava you, Mama Earth. Thanks for making us feel small. In a good way. On April 8, 2024, another total solar eclipse will be visible in this country. The Path of Totality will arc from Texas to Maine. I hope to be in the dark somewhere. Tom English of GTCC will be watching, too, either from campus or from somewhere in Ohio, the area nearest Greensboro for lights-out. He hopes to experience the darkness in person, with other people, as he did with a group of students and colleagues who traveled to South Carolina to stand in the moon’s shadow in 2017. “It’s something you want to do in your life,” he says, noting that the next total eclipses over the U.S. will occur in the 2040s. Nothing, he says, replaces being right there. “Have you been to the Grand Canyon? Have you seen pictures of the Grand Canyon. It’s not the same, is it? The whole world is transformed, and if you’re not standing in it, there’s no way to know.” OH Maria Johnson is a contributing editor of O.Henry magazine. Email her at ohenrymaria@gmail.com. For GTCC’s celestial viewing schedule, go to @gtccastro on X (formerly Twitter) or to the school’s website, gtcc.edu/observatory, which includes a page on upcoming eclipses.
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O.Henry 25
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omnivorous reader
Tales to Tell The journey of a lifetime
By Anne Blythe
Kelley Shinn spent a long afternoon in
a bar with poet Eric Trethewey some years back and told him a story that made him grab her by the shoulders and implore her to write it down.
Shinn had recently returned to the United States from a years-long trip abroad, a nomadic journey she organized to bring attention to the predicament of landmine survivors. As noble an undertaking as that might be, it was not the typical goodwill mission highlighting the plight of amputees whose limbs were blown off in war-torn lands. A single mother at the time, Shinn — who has prosthetic legs below her knees — was still recovering from her own physical and emotional wounds when she embarked on her global expedition in a tricked-out Land Rover with her whip-smart 3-year-old, Celie. The Wounds That Bind Us, her story chronicling that journey, went through many renditions before becoming the memoir published this year by West Virginia University Press. Shinn tried a series of short stories first. Next she rewrote it as a novel. “Then I had an agent from New York that was interested in it,” Shinn, now an Ocracoke resident, recounted at a reading at Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill. “And she said, ‘You say it’s based on autobiography. Give me a percentage.’ So I wrote her back and said at this point, it’s 75 percent true. She goes, ‘Here’s my problem. It’s too unbelievable for fiction. You need to rewrite it as memoir.’” The narrative that came together over the next decade is a phenomenal adventure story that will pull you to the edge of your seat while marveling at Shinn’s candor, steely backbone, vulnerability and wisdom. She takes readers on this emotional ride with self-deprecating humor, artistic prose and a welcome The Art & Soul of Greensboro
hopefulness that oozes throughout the pages. There are times you want to sit her down, stop her from doing what she’s about to do and tell her the danger’s not worth it — think climbing onto wreckage of a bombed-out bridge in Bosnia high above the Neretva River to get the perfect photo. After all, there’s Celie to think about, the child she brought into the world after 52 hours of labor. Her daughter is her sidekick, a worldly little girl who loves her “to the moon and back.” Who will respond “I love you the whole universe” if Shinn succumbs to unnecessary risks? Overwhelmingly, readers are more likely to be cheering for Shinn, engrossed in a story that keeps them hungering for the next escapade while also hoping that any one of the many interesting people she encounters along the way can keep her in check. Shinn was a promising cross-country runner at 16 years old, when her body and life were forever changed by a rare form of bacterial meningitis initially misdiagnosed as flu. Although that’s not how she starts the memoir, she flashes back to that time in the hospital while thinking about landmine victims in Bosnia. “I’ve got more wires running around and through me than an early desktop computer,” Shinn writes. “A month ago my coach was talking to me about scholarships for cross-country. Lord in heaven, how I wish I could jump off this bed right O.Henry 27
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now and run, just run through the Metroparks, down the city sidewalks, run until my heart pounds in my chest, until the sweat breaks out all over my body and evaporates into thin air.” There is a sense throughout The Wounds That Bind Us that Shinn is running. Running, running and running. She’s racing away from the pains and sorrows of her childhood and abusive relationships while, at the same time, jogging slowly toward healing and enlightenment. Shinn scratches at deep wounds from being put up for adoption by her birth mother and raised by an adoptive mother who beat her “in a quick rage, with a stick, a belt or a hand.” She explores the mindset that pushed her toward doomed romantic relationships like the one with a scheming first husband who glommed onto her after the well-publicized settlement of her malpractice lawsuit. This is not a woe-is-me tell-all, though. Shinn describes unforgettable scenes such as the overnight stay in a brothel with Celie; the off-road thrill rides on steep, rocky terrains; and the beautiful landscapes of Greece. Her stories are filled with memorable characters, from cab drivers to their neighbors in the United Kingdom; from her Greek classics professor turned travel companion to the soldiers, farmers and others with bodies forever altered by landmines; from the many people who care for Celie; all the way to Athena, the Land Rover (a trusted character itself) that does the transporting from England to Serbia, Bosnia and Greece. It is well worth it to take the journey with Shinn, “that’s two Ns and no shins,” she jokes. She’s funny, daredevilish but relatable. That poet at the bar, a man she would have a relationship and son with, was right. Shinn’s story needed to be written. OH Anne Blythe has been a reporter in North Carolina for more than three decades covering city halls, higher education, the courts, crime, hurricanes, ice storms, droughts, floods, college sports, health care and many wonderful characters who make this state such an interesting place. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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O.Henry 29
Earthen Vessels From Seagrove to the world beyond, Ben Owen III shares his pottery By Liza Roberts
The work of Ben Owen III is earthen
and practical, but also brightly hued and sculptural. It fits in a hand for morning coffee, but it’s also the lofty centerpiece of elegant spaces across the world. From the Sun Valley Resort in Idaho to the Ritz-Carlton in Tokyo to The Umstead Hotel & Spa in Cary, where his sculptural vessels fill spotlit niches and his handmade plates grace every table, Owen’s art provides beauty and function. Pottery is one of the oldest human inventions, going back to pre-Neolithic times. Earth into clay, clay into pots, pots into fire, vessels out. Also unchanged: all hands on deck to get it done. It takes a team to keep a wood-fired kiln’s flames stoked and blazing 24 hours a day for days on end. Like farmers raising a barn, potters fire a kiln together because they need each other. It’s what they do.
30 O.Henry
Owen was born to this life, born with Seagrove clay beneath his feet. His father and grandfather, Ben Owen Sr. and Ben Owen Jr., built the foundations for Seagrove’s modern pottery community; before them, as early as the late 1700s, their forefathers arrived from England, making and selling clay vessels to early settlers. Owen III works today on the same site his grandfather did. “He was a great teacher and a great mentor for me,” Owen says, “showing me the fundamentals, building all those skills.” Starting at the age of 9, Owen went out to his grandfather’s studio every day to make pots. During these sessions, his grandfather taught Owen technique and aesthetics as well as principles: how important it was to challenge oneself, to learn from mistakes, to greet change with enthusiasm, to eschew mediocrity. To “never sell his seconds.” “I’m continually trying to find ways to refine the technique and my process,” Owen says. “How can I make the piece even better than I did last time?” That commitment has taken his work not only all over the world but has paved the way for its inclusion in museum collections, including the Smithsonian Museum of Art, the Museum of Fine The Art & Soul of Greensboro
art of the state
Arts in Boston, the Gregg Museum of Art & Design, and in private collections. His work, in its various manifestations, has a timelessness about it, even when glazed in crystalline turquoise or lilypad green. “I’m always experimenting,” he says. “A lot of people know us for our red glaze, but in recent years, I’ve been making glazes from nature. Recreating things I’ve seen hiking with my son . . . looking at textures, lichen on a stone, moss on a tree. It’s interesting to think, Could I make a glaze that would create that effect?” Some of Owen’s pieces are finished in electric or gas-fired kilns, others in his wood-fired groundhog kiln. To witness Owen firing this kiln — a gourdshaped, 30-foot-long structure dug partway down into the earth, hence the name — is to witness a multi-day, group massive effort, only accomplished a few times a year. One recent morning at his studio in Seagrove, Owen was busy completing a 5-foot-tall, 400-pound, bottle-shaped vessel for the Amanyara resort in Turks & Caicos, one of nine large pieces commissioned by the property. The fire in the kiln had been going for 12 hours, and it would be another 36 before it was done. Owen slid a few slats of wood into a slot in the side of the chamber, turning to laugh at a joke from his friend Stan Simmons, a fellow potter there to help keep the fire going at temperatures reaching 2,350 degrees Fahrenheit. Another potter, Fred Johnston, was also on hand. Both men had pots of their own in the kiln. They waited. “It’s like a jigsaw puzzle,” he said, gesturing to his kiln, explaining how he fits 400 pots inside. Part of The Art & Soul of Greensboro
it is tactical: Some glazes do well high up, some pots need to be closer to the fire. Some of it is logistical. “Right now,” Owen says, watching flames shoot out of a blowhole-like chimney pipe, “Right now it’s heating up fast. Right now, there’s more fuel than there is oxygen.” Potters can’t always predict what will emerge from the fire, what that day’s particular combination of clay and heat, minerals and weather will produce. “Colors, or finishes on pots, are almost like sunsets,” Owen says. “Each day, it’s a little different, and depending on what’s present — just as the clouds, or the temperature, the atmosphere all affect the sunset, our glazes can react the same way. We learn to accept that. We try to control these things to the best of our ability, but we have to remind ourselves that our materials are constantly changing. And sometimes it can be a nice surprise.” O.Henry 31
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art of the state A few steps from this kiln, in the late 1990s, Owen built his own studio, right behind the one where his grandfather taught him. The newer spot is spacious, with separate workstations for different kinds of clay. There are pots in various stages of completion, one already 4 feet tall. When it’s complete, this pot will be glazed an earthy blue, weigh about 250 pounds, and stand in the entry of a home in Greensboro. “In an era of instant gratification, where people can go to the big box stores or a mall for most of their daily needs, we can offer something different,” Owen says. “Especially when they can meet the maker, learn a little bit more about the process, and what makes a potter tick, and their particular style, and why they use that technique. The work becomes part of the fellowship.” Owen pictures his blue vessel in place, mentions the conversations he’s had with the collectors who’ve commissioned the piece. He welcomes the chance to work closely with the people who collect his work — some of whom were also collectors of his grandfather’s work — and to get to know them, just as he does with visitors to his region and his studio. The role of ambassador is another he embraces. “When you can find a way to develop a relationship with an individual customer or just people coming out to visit the area,” he says, “that gives us a springboard to tell people more about what the past has done, and what we’ve been able to build on over the last several generations.” He’s happy to go farther back, too, 280 or 300 million years or so, back to when the region was covered in the volcanic ash that gave birth to the clay he loves, and he’s happy to bring it back home to now, and to his legacy. “I just count my blessings that we’ve been able to support our family through the making of earthen vessels,” he says. “Really, the end product is how it is received by the people who use it.” OH
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This is an excerpt from Art of the State: Celebrating the Art of North Carolina, published by UNC Press.
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O.Henry 33
pleasures of life dept.
y a d m u S Dim ristmas h C t a A hometown guy tests the hot trend of eating Chinese food on Christmas Day By David Claude Bailey
Now that our two girls are grown-ups and
have homes (and Christmas trees) of their own, we empty nesters almost religiously endeavor to spend Christmas morning any place but home — in Savannah, in Florida, in France, in Spain visiting our older daughter.
And then, last November, Anne said, “Let’s not go anywhere this year. Let’s just stay home.” And so it came to pass that on Christmas morning we find ourselves with our younger daughter, Alice, and her fellow serious eater, Evan, at arguably Greensboro’s most authentic Chinese restaurant, Hometown Delicious. My idea was to eat in the company of others not entirely focused on little children giggling with delight around a Christmas tree. A few years ago while eating dim sum in Chinatown with Lori, a New York City friend and cookbook author, I heard all about how crowded Big Apple Chinese restaurants are on Christmas day with dim sum eaters. Literally translated, dim sum means “close to the heart” and encompasses a wide range of hors d’oeuvres, mostly plump dumplings served in steaming bamboo baskets. Once back home, I did a little research. “Going out for dim sum on Christmas Day started as a New York Jewish tradition, spread across America and then caught on across the world,” says the Financial Times. Getting back to our family summit in November, I proclaim, “Let’s feast on dim sum Christmas morning with Alice and Evan.” They readily agree, though neither had heard about the hot trend of eating Chinese on Christmas morning. I call several Chinese restaurants around town and find that most plan to be closed. One insists that I make a reservation to guarantee a
34 O.Henry
table, which I don’t want to do without consulting my fellow dim (con)sum’ers. Evan, who doesn’t like crowds any more than I do, agrees with me that we ought to eat early to avoid the rush. I have visions of ordering deep-fried sesame balls stuffed with red bean paste only to have the waitress point to another table and say, “They got the last ones.” So at 11 a.m. sharp, we’re sitting in the parking lot as the lights come on inside Hometown Delicious, and a waitress opens the door with a big smile and a warm welcome. Soon we’re sipping cups of piping-hot wulong tea, a traditional complement to dim sum. I’m glad we’re with family and not in snowy Canada, where I’d suggested going. Or Beirut, Lebanon, where, decades ago, I spent a cold and edgy Christmas on assignment. To our delight, we have the restaurant totally to ourselves, and, for the first time in months, we are blissfully surrounded by the complete absence of Christmas music. The menu, however, is almost dim-sumless. Still, we start our feast with an order of pan-fried dumplings, pillowy and stuffed with a savory combination of cabbage and garlicky pork. They are, in fact, delicious, whether they’re hometown or not. I am already one happy camper. To us, half of the fun of eating Chinese food is sharing all the various dishes. Alice orders eggplant in red sauce as well as spicy mapo tofu. Evan orders pine nuts with corn. Corn? Anne orders the dry-fried green beans. A meat lover, I retaliate by ordering hearty braised duck with beer in an iron pot and a dish the waitress tells us is a specialty of the chef, fish-flavored shredded pork. Anne raises her eyebrows. As soon as the shiny, purple chunks of eggplant arrive, literally still sizzling, visions of dim sum dancing like sugar plums disappear from our heads. The plump eggplant dissolves, a cloud on our palates, savory with a sauce that leaves you licking your fork. “Oh, my!” Anne says. Alice glows with satisfaction. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
pleasures of life dept. “It is cooked in the style of my hometown of Luoyang,” the chef, Jianjun Li, tells us later. (Luoyang is in east-central China in the Henan province — not to be confused with the Hunan, Hainan or Yunnan provinces.) The fish-flavored pork turns out to be a slightly sweet-andsour stir fry with shreds of pork, slivers of peppers, bamboo shoots, carrots and the same sort of mushrooms found in hotand-sour soup. “No fish — flavor of fish from the sauce,” Li says. As it swims into our mouths, Evan and I are ecstatic. We all love the sweet, creamy-fresh corn, stir-fried and amped up with panroasted pine nuts. Origin? “Pine nuts with corn is a traditional dish from northeast China,” Li tells us. The dry-fried green beans are from Szechuan, as is the duck cooked in beer, which is my favorite dish. The spicy mapo tofu is, in fact, appropriately described and from Hunan. Not from his hometown? “These are from my customers’ hometowns,” Li tells us, “so they feel at home in my restaurant.” Which is where, on this sunny morning, we all feel perfectly at home — in Hometown Delicious. No need to go to Canada or Florida, we decide over a last cup of tea. Home is wherever your family gathers and eats food cooked by someone who knows how to make people feel happy and at home. It also helps that most of Li’s employees are family members. As we’re leaving, our waitress says, “Merry Christmas.” I’ve heard this dozens of times in previous weeks, but not with such total sincerity. “Merry Christmas to you and all of yours,” I reply. As we’re stretching our legs and saying our goodbyes outside, I give my daughter a holiday hug and whisper in her ear, “Next year in New York City?” OH O.Henry’s contributing editor David Claude Bailey fell in love with Chinese cooking 55 years ago when a UNCG faculty member’s wife gifted a wok and a Chinese cookbook to him and his own wife, Anne. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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O.Henry 35
home grown
Confessions of a Biscuit Eater A hair-raising adventure with Mama By Cynthia Adams
My Mama sprang im-
mediately to mind as a friend described a Triad maven he met while doing work for designer Otto Zenke. “She was always dressed bridge-ready. And she was so rich she had a hairdresser do her hair daily!” Hairdressers everywhere should observe November 5 — the day she died — National Hair Day, versus October 1. (As hair care company NuMe declared in 2017, according to my editor.) No matter the fluctuating fortunes, calamities or dramadies within our family, a few things were certain: The sun would rise right alongside a pan of Mama’s biscuits, and so would her closerto-God hair. Thy will and Mama’s hair would be done. Weekly. (Southerners know what “done” means . . . and in this case, it has nothing to do with biscuits.) Her biscuit making, however, was instinctual after years of practice. Mama practically made them in her sleep, wearing a negligee, satin mules and a cocktail ring, which grew lumpy with dough as she kneaded. She slapped the pan in the oven, sipping a cup of black coffee before cracking eggs as the grits burbled on the stove. Every day. I lost my appetite for those pillows of Crisco, flour and milk in my early youth after learning from my new friend, Rocky, that toast was much cooler up north. Rocky also touted frozen pies — anathema to my kin. When Judy, the daughter of our (adored) bookmobile driver, echoed Rocky’s preferences, I swore off biscuits, too. Mama was fit to be tied when my 11-year-old self requested toast following our no-biscuit pact. When Rocky moved away, I ate my words and rejoined the legion of biscuit eaters.
36 O.Henry
Mama’s passion for biscuits eventually waned, but hairdos were sacrosanct. Her salon was called “Barbara’s.” Envision the salon in Steel Magnolias — except Barbara’s was actually at Barbara’s house. It was obvious when Barbara was working because the carport sheltered her patrons’ land yachts — Lincolns, Cadillacs and Oldsmobiles. For hair to be considered truly “done,” it had to be impervious to wind, rain or natural disaster — minus wildfires — while made highly flammable with a shellacking of hairspray. Once done, women marched out of Barbara’s with helmet-like coiffures, teased and steeled. Fortified. When older, her children grown, Mama wanted more. By her 70s, her salon visits were a twice-a-week habit. Then Mama left my dad, Barbara and Hell’s Half-Acre behind, establishing a tight-as-ticks bond with a hairdressing duo in Norwood, NC — which even involved trips together. Mama achieved Nirvana vacationing with her hairdressers. (“Perry and Terry freshened my hair up every day when we were in Disney World!” she said blissfully.) When she eventually remarried and moved to Greensboro, Mama struggled to find the level of style — teased high and hardened off — she demanded. She tried salon after salon, eventually discovering Wayne. It became a happy pairing. When I needed to find her, I could go straight to his salon, spot her Lincoln outside and find Wayne spraying with zeal, a plastic shield at her face. “He knows what my hair needs,” she would explain. “So many hairdressers do not.” She also grasped what Jim, her husband, needed. Given his thing for blondes, Mama’s dark tresses grew steadily lighter. After Jim’s death, she moved nearer to my older sister. The hairdresser hunt was on once more. This proved more stressful than my (pragmatic) sister anticipated. They cycled through scores of beauticians as Mama’s health declined. Now using a cane, and soon, a walker, she began having falls, yet determinedly kept appointments. When Mama fell completely out of the Lincoln at the curb in front of her newest salon, the kindly hairdresser was recruited to The Art & Soul of Greensboro
home grown visit her twice weekly. This, too, grew challenging as Mama grew unable to stand at a basin long enough for shampooing. Only in recent months of no bleaching had I discovered what her natural color actually was — still dark at the back though gray at the front. Shampooing Mama’s hair in the shower one day, I announced I’d “do” her hair. Glancing at mine — merely blown dry — she raggedly exhaled. “Well . . .” Her hands fluttered in surrender. Attempting to twine her gray hair around a curling iron, I burned both her neck and my hand, and cussed. Mama looked exasperated as I held a cold cloth to her neck. And started laughing. “I’m having trouble, but it’s all because of your cowlick,” I lied sweatily. “You don’t know diddly squat about hair or curling irons. Get that hairspray,” she giggled, indicating a large can of Big Sexy Hair. I sprayed her recalcitrant curls till wet, shakily trying to coax them into Modestly Compliant Hair. When I burned us both again, Mama retorted, “Well, you’re no Wayne! Just get me my lipstick.” Big Sexy Hair couldn’t save me. She pursed her lips as I swiped them with red — her perennial favorite — and reached for blusher, dusting her porcelainpale face before swiping her lashes with globs of mascara, lending a jolting Bette Davis in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane effect. Mama was unrecognizable. With a very light squirt of her cologne — Angel — I hurriedly wheeled her away from the mirror. “Mama, why don’t I follow up that success by making a pan of biscuits?” “Huh! Good thing I’m wearing my Depends,” she retorted drily. We giggled together; Mom, tremulous but plucky. “We can work on the hair later,” she added, and my heart dropped to my kneecaps. OH Cynthia Adam is a contributing editor to O.Henry magazine.
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38 O.Henry
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birdwatch
Wintering Waterbirds Ducks, geese and swans, oh my!
Common loon
Ring-necked duck Bufflehead ducks
By Susan Campbell
The arrival of cold weather in central
North Carolina also means the arrival of waterfowl. Our local ponds and lakes have been documented to be the winter home to more than two dozen different species of ducks, geese and swans. Over the years, as water features both large and small have been added to the landscape, the diversity of waterfowl has increased significantly. Although we are all familiar with our local mallards and Canada geese, a variety of aquatic birds frequent our area from November through March.
Certainly the most abundant and widespread species is the ring-necked duck, flocks of which can be seen diving for aquatic invertebrate prey in shallow ponds and coves. The males have iridescent blue heads, black sides and gray backs. They get their name from the indistinct rusty ring at the base of their necks. The females, as with all of the true duck species, are quite nondescript. They are light brown all over and, like the males, have a grayish blue bill with a white band around it. The most noticeable of our wintering waterfowl would be the buffleheads. They form small groups that dive into deeper water, feeding on vegetation and invertebrates. The males have a bright white hood and body with iridescent dark green back, face and neck. They also sport bright orange legs and feet, which they will flash during confrontations. The females of this species are also drab, mainly brown with the only contrast being a small white cheek patch. Interestingly, bufflehead is the one species of migratory duck that actually mates for life. This is generally a trait found only in the largest of waterfowl: swans and geese. There are several types of aquatic birds similar to ducks that can be identified if one can get a good look, which usually requires binoculars. Common loons can occasionally be seen diving for fish on larger lakes in winter, and even more so during The Art & Soul of Greensboro
spring and fall migration. Their size and shape are quite distinctive (as is their yodeling song which, sadly, they do not tend to sing while they are here). Be aware that we have another visitor that can be confused with loons: the double-crested cormorant. This bird is actually not a duck at all but is (along with its cousin the anhinga) more closely related to seabirds, e.g. boobies and gannets. It is a very proficient diver with a sharply serrated bill adapted for catching fish. It is not uncommon to see cormorants in their “drying” pose. Their feathers are not as waterproof as those of diving ducks, so they only enter water to feed and bathe. Most of their time is spent sitting on a dock or some sort of perch in order to dry out. Two other species of waterbird can be found regularly at this time of year: pied-billed grebes and American coots. Pied-billed grebes are the smallest of the swimmers we see in winter, with light brown plumage, short thick bills and bright white bottoms. Surprisingly, they are very active swimmers. They can chase down small fish in just about any depth of water. In some years, American coots can be quite abundant. These black, stocky birds with white bills are scavengers, feeding mainly in aquatic vegetation. They can make short dives but are too buoyant to remain submerged for more than a few seconds. Given their long legs and well-developed toes, they are also adept at foraging on foot. You may see them feeding on grasses along the edge of larger bodies of water or even on the edge of golf course water hazards. OH Susan Campbell would love to hear from you. Feel free to send questions or wildlife observations to susan@ncaves.com. O.Henry 39
wandering billy
What a Wander-ful World There’s no place like home for the holiday memories
“I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by.” – Douglas Adams
I hope you will indulge me in sharing a
few Ingram family holiday customs sprinkled with a couple standalone memories that I recall from growing up here in Greensboro, likely not very different from your own yuletide rituals. Samson’s Little Helper
Every December, my father bought by the caseload bottles of an obscure hometown original, Samson’s Sauce, from his golfing buddy, Gurney Boren. Dad’s clients very much looked forward to it because that robust, slightly-spicy steak and burger garnish was crafted in minute batches and unavailable in just any store. Since the 1960s, Boren had been brewing his father’s secret recipe in a garage behind his home at 1116 Parish St., along the southern edge of Irving Park. In the mid-1970s, as I recall, Gurney’s love for a sauce of a more spirited variety began to affect production. To make sure that his friends and colleagues didn’t go without, Dad took it upon himself to raise a few cups with Gurney inside that concrete outbuilding while bottling up as much as possible. At least that was the story Mom got after Dad would arrive home, er, sauced himself. While still relatively unheralded, Samson’s Sauce is more popular than ever today. Find it in local Bestway markets, but be sure to look for the comical label and avoid the Town & Country version. Does it taste the same as it did 50 years ago? Yep, you bet . . . and that modest garage where it all started still stands.
Mother’s Gift Book
My mom was all about Christmas, so much so she kept a looseleaf notebook that served as her voluminous gift list, replete with notations on what she’d gifted everyone over the years. Just to be safe in case she forgot someone, she always set aside a number of presents with blank tags such as cheese straws from Carolyn Todd’s, which, she insisted, carried the only proper cheese straws. It was her favorite shop and had been at least since I was a toddler. I remember fondly that the last bill she received before passing away in January 2014 was for her charge account Christmas purchases at Carolyn Todd’s.
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Oyster Stew
First thing Christmas morning, Dad would prepare a boiling pot of buttery oyster stew (not to be confused with chowder) from his mother’s recipe. Consisting of shucked oysters, evaporated milk, whole milk, butter, pepper, and topped with oyster saltines, it was a favorite of my brother and sister, who each devoured it and continue this tradition. I never did partake.
Yankee
After relocating to Springfield to accept a senior position at Mass Mutual, cousin Berk Ingram gifted my parents a yearly subscription to Yankee magazine. We assumed it was a joke that this Southern boy — raised in the country like my Dad — would send us a monthly digest about Yankees. Although we were always amazed at its gorgeous illustrated covers, I don’t think a single copy was ever cracked opened. Because I’m an archivist at heart, I saved a couple of issues. But it wasn’t until decades later that I actually read a copy of Yankee only to discover it was a truly excellent magazine, one of the finest publications of that era, and still is today. Turns out, O.Henry’s founding father, Jim Dodson, wrote for Yankee in the 1980s and ’90s.
Making “Trash”
Before pre-made Chex Mix was introduced in 1985, folks used to concoct their own party mix by combining the three Chex cereals (Rice, Wheat and Corn) with pretzels and whatever else they wanted to toss in (as long as it wasn’t sweet), then bake it. My grandmother’s recipe for what we called “Trash” was a little more involved. Besides the cereals and pretzel sticks, she tossed in peanuts, Cheerios and cashews. Melt a stick of salted butter with 2 tablespoons of Lea & Perrins’ Worcestershire sauce in a roasting pan; add the dry ingredients using a spatula to turn everything over and over until fully coated; then stick that pan into a 200 degree preheated oven for an hour, mixing it all around every 15 minutes.
Turkey Dinner
I spent a single Christmas in Greensboro in the 1980s. By that time my grandmother and older relatives had passed away and the cousins we had over for dinner in years previous now had families of their own. In 1987, although it was a bit pricey The Art & Soul of Greensboro
ILLUSTRATION BY MIRANDA GLYDER
By Billy Ingram
wandering billy and the old man was kind of a cheapskate, Dad sprung for Greensboro Country Club’s complete turkey dinner for a family of five to-go, with all the fixings, including those wonderful walnut sweet rolls their chef made for dessert. Unfortunately, we cut into the turkey and discovered it was raw in the middle, so we popped it into the oven until it was fully cooked. No harm, no fowl. Then again, these were the days when you thawed the bird for a few hours on the kitchen counter. Other families weren’t so lucky and became stricken with food poisoning. It wasn’t the club’s fault: A catering firm supplied the meals and provided a full refund for everyone. Dad couldn’t have been merrier!
Green Hill Cemetery
In the evening on Christmas Day, pretty much the entire family would congregate at Mom and Dad’s place to share stories about what had transpired over the course of what was always an abundant and somewhat magical time. At some point, we’d all pile into cars and head over to Green Hill to pay our respects to beloved, never-forgotten family members. One year the graveyard was padlocked early and we were stuck on the wrong side of the gates — inside not outside! Fortunately, this was in the mid-1990s, when cell phones were just beginning to come into general use. One of us actually had one handy so we were sprung by the GPD pretty quickly.
A Christmas Miracle?
Every holiday, it seems I’m the recipient of what I call a “Christmas miracle.” Nothing major, some unexpected cash when I expected to be broke, hearing one of only two Christmas songs recorded after the early-sixties that I actually enjoy (“Father Christmas” by Emerson, Lake & Palmer and “Christmas Wrapping” by The Waitresses), the rarer-by-the-year white Christmases. Like I said, no big deal, just something that sweetens the season. Then there was this: The first Christmas Day after my mom died, I was taking a stroll around the neighborhood. It was frigid that afternoon and I thought to myself, “If Mother was alive, she’d be telling me to wear a hat because all of your body heat escapes from your head.” She insisted that this was true, but I’m not so sure. As I was passing the Blandwood Mansion, something caught my eye. Lying atop the lush, green lawn was a brand-new, red knitted cap, price tag still attached. Not something I’d ordinarily wear, but definitely an item my mother would have purchased for me. We all accept there’s no going home again. The closest we’ll come is at the holiday season, when cherished memories and treasures both great and small may allow for a lingering glow from candles lit long ago. OH Billy Ingram wishes each and every one of you the happiest holiday season possible.
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O.Henry 41
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from our family to yours.
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42 O.Henry
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
December 2023
Snowbird The Latin teacher finally did retire. Her balcony now bends toward the sea. She is in a high-rise looking down at birds. Gulls scream and fly north to the next resort. All that’s left now are pigeons on the patio. They scavenge through the purpling decorative cabbage. She hasn’t seen a pelican yet, just the same birds she came here to get away from. They look like feathered cataracts in a kale eyeball. She sees a buried Titan with umbrella pectorals. It struggles to emerge from beneath the sodden November sand, beaten down by so many tenacious dog walkers. He has his eye on her.
— Maura Way
Maura Way’s second collection of poetry, Mummery, was published by Press 53.
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
O.Henry 43
By Cynthia Adams Photographs by Bert VanderVeen
Elevating favorite collections with greens
P
re-holiday, Sharon James invited Todd Nabors to give her Whitsett home his signature faux-mixedwith-fresh ideas a go. Nabors, a long-time friend, consults on occasion with avid collectors — like James — seeking to elevate their favorite things. For Nabors, Mother Nature lends all the inspiration needed. He favors natural touches like running cedar and garden greenery, even on gift wrapping. Though she admired how Nabors relied upon natural elements, James had a quandary. During work absences, evergreen embellishments simply wouldn’t last. Nabors had a solution. It’s perfectly fine to cheat a little, tucking faux greenery in with fresh. “Consider where greenery and color are needed, and invest in the best faux foliage and blooms for your seasonal decorating budget,” Nabors advises. “Remember that, while realistic garlands, wreaths, trees, fruit and blooms are expensive, they last for many seasons.” Plus, “these ‘almost real’ elements facilitate decoration schedules early or late in the season. They require no refreshing, replacement or clean up.” Nabors favors a realistic, classic mix, using “faux spruce, pine, magnolia with forced amaryllis, narcissus and Christmas roses [hellebores].” For more oomph, place faux cyclamen and orchids in a fool-the-eye container, such as “a crusty terra-cotta pot, tole or porcelain cache pot, or woven basket.” Faux Osage oranges, lemons, kumquats, pears and figs “beautify holiday garlands, wreaths and bowls.” Fresh or faux, James and Nabors go all out. Yet, simplicity is lovely, too. An orchid nestled inside a beautiful wreath may be all that a holiday table requires, Nabors insists.
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Left Page: The Moravian star, a touching reminder of the Moravians’ long presence here in the Triad, was purchased at the Moravian Book & Gift Shop in Old Salem store (Although it closed earlier this year, it can still be shopped online). The wreath features various faux citrus styled by Nabors. Top: Covered boxes in marbleized paper (turquoise and jade) are tied with brown and orange satin ribbon. The faux cinnamon studded oranges were found at Randy McManus Designs in Greensboro. Top right: Don’t forget the importance of a good entrance. Even a pair of antique stone balls from the English Cotswold are decorated for the holidays. Bottom right: The stone fire pit overlooks the Stoney Creek golf course, where even a tall ornamental urn (one of a pair) is decorated with traditional greenery and ribbon.
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
O.Henry 45
Bottom: A simple Christmas nutcracker and crèche figures provide another festive touch in a house overflowing with holiday spirit. Top Right: A treasured crèche is displayed with a white reindeer and an antique knife urn. “The little figures are from Lima, Peru,” says James. “The deer is from Gump’s catalog. And the feathers are actually little white owls made of feathers. Todd and I placed my collection of feathered owls all throughout the house.” Bottom Right: James has collected crèches since the late 1990s. “All the fabrics on the figures are traditional French fabrics,” and the figures were ordered from a defunct French catalog.
46 O.Henry
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Left: Among the tree ornaments are French papier mâché rabbits that James has owned for 30 years. Others are from travels in the Philippines. The blue-and-white chinoiserie porcelain ornaments were found on Etsy. A 19th century French jardinière containing the tree is from White Hall in Chapel Hill. The 15th century icon (made of metal) is the saint for metal workers. Top Right: A holiday-ready tableau — tray of fruit, paper whites with a faux bird, and pierced compote dishes — is decorated with evergreen balls. A spray of greenery and citrus dress up antique knife boxes. Feathers embellish an 1860 Louis Phillipe mirror flanked by buffet lights from Plants & Answers.
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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48 O.Henry
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Right: Dig in! Spiced sweet potato cake is served on a Mottahedeh reproduction plate, with an antique mother-of-pearl dessert fork. Left: James’ husband, Tom, bakes his holiday specialty, a spiced sweet potato cake, pictured on an English ironstone cake stand. The table features antique Canton and other porcelains, papier mâché reindeer figurines, stone fruit, and a Chinese vase filled with greenery and pepper berry. Roses and lilies in an heirloom glass vase from Tom’s family add a touch of fresh floral. OH
Spiced Sweet Potato Cake with Brown Sugar Icing Pierce sweet potatoes with fork. Microwave on high until very tender, about 8 minutes per side. Cool, peel and mash sweet potatoes. Position rack in center of oven; preheat to 325° F. Spray 12-cup Bundt pan with nonstick spray, then generously butter pan. Sift flour, cinnamon, ginger, baking powder, baking soda and salt into medium bowl. Measure enough mashed sweet potatoes to equal 2 cups. Transfer to large bowl. Add sugar and oil to sweet potatoes; using electric mixer, beat until smooth. Add eggs 2 at a time, beating well after each addition. Add flour mixture; beat just until blended. Beat in vanilla. Transfer batter to prepared pan. Bake cake until tester inserted near center comes out clean, about 1 hour 5 minutes. Cool cake in pan on rack 15 minutes. Using small knife, cut around sides of pan and center tube to loosen cake. Turn out onto rack; cool completely. Sift powdered sugar into medium bowl. Stir brown sugar, whipping cream and butter in medium saucepan over medium-low heat until butter melts and sugar dissolves. Increase heat to medium-high and bring to boil. Boil 3 minutes, occasionally stirring and swirling pan. Remove from heat and stir in vanilla. Pour brown sugar mixture over powdered sugar. Whisk icing until smooth and lightened in color, about 1 minute. Cool icing until lukewarm and icing falls in heavy ribbon from spoon, whisking often, about 15 minutes. Spoon icing thickly over top of cake, allowing icing to drip down sides of cake. Let stand until icing is firm, at least 1 hour. (Can be prepared 1 day ahead. Cover with cake dome and let stand at room temperature.) Source: Epicurious.com
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Cake 4 8-ounce red-skinned sweet potatoes (yams) Nonstick vegetable oil spray 2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon 1 1/4 teaspoons ground ginger 1 teaspoon baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon salt 2 cups sugar 1 cup vegetable oil 4 large eggs 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Icing 1 cup powdered sugar 3/4 cup (packed) dark brown sugar 1/2 cup whipping cream 1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
O.Henry 49
Memoir by Stephen E. Smith Illustration by Harry Blair
“G
et up! Get up! Get up, up, up!” my mother blurted. It was at 6:30 a.m., the first day of Christmas break, and as always she felt compelled to rouse her children at the most ungodly hour. I lifted my head from the pillow and stared bleary-eyed at her figure in the bedroom doorway. Wrapped to her chin in a blue terrycloth robe, her fists were planted firmly on her hips. She meant business. “You’re to march yourself down to the Safeway and ask Mr. Short if he’ll give you a job for the holidays,” she ordered. “You can earn enough money to pay for your books next semester. And next time I see Mr. Short, I’ll find out if you asked him for a job.” “Can’t you even say, ‘Welcome home’?” I asked. “Sure. Welcome home, Mr. Big Shot College Guy. Now get out of that bed and get yourself down to the Safeway.” I was suffering from severe sleep deprivation. I’d caught an allnight ride home from North Carolina and had dragged into the house on Janice Drive at 3:15 a.m. But my mother was not to be denied, so I managed to pull on the wrinkled clothes I’d worn the day before and stumbled downstairs to eat a bowl of my brother’s Froot Loops. At 8:30 a.m. I scuffled up Bayridge Avenue to the Eastport Shopping Center, where I found Mr. Short on the dock, supervising the unloading of pallets of dog food from a tractortrailer. He shook my hand and asked how college was going. “It’s fine,” I answered. “I was hoping you might have an opening for a cashier during the holidays. I’m not looking to work eight hours a day, but, you know, something part time.” “If I had an opening, I’d hire you,” he said. “But right now I have all the cashiers I need. I’d have to cut someone else’s hours, and that wouldn’t be fair, especially at Christmas.” My spirits soared. If he didn’t have an opening, I could pass the holidays stretched out on my bed reading P.G. Wodehouse. “I’ll tell you what,” he continued, “I’ve got a friend who’s the manager at the Drug Fair in Parole. Go see him and tell him I sent you. He’s looking for holiday help.” A job at Drug Fair was the last thing I wanted, but I had to make an inquiry. My mother was as good as her word, and I knew she’d buttonhole Mr. Short the next time she visited the Safeway. If she found out I hadn’t applied for the Drug Fair job, she’d make my Christmas break miserable, which she had already begun to do by wakening me before sunup. Among cashiers, there existed a hierarchy, and working a register at Safeway carried with it a degree of status and a wage that
50 O.Henry
was at least $1.75 an hour. Drug Fair was a discount pharmacy, emporium and grocery store, a low-rent warehouse for plastic crap and wilted vegetables, where the discount prices were clearly marked on each item — work for the dimwitted — and the pay was $1.25 an hour. I caught the bus to Parole and found the Drug Fair manager, a rumpled, balding, ectomorphic fellow with thick wire spectacles and a long pointy nose, puzzling over paperwork in an elevated office that overlooked a line of disheveled employees who were pounding away at their cash registers. He appeared to be in emotional distress, his mouth screwed into a grotesque snarl. “Excuse me,” I said. He looked up, snatched the glasses from his face and tossed them on the countertop in a display of frustration. “Mr. Short over at Safeway said I should talk with you about working as a cashier for the holidays. I don’t need a full-time job, just some part-time work if you’ve got it.” Sweet relief swept over his face, his lips stretching into a half smile. “Mr. Short sent you?” he asked. “He said you might need an experienced cashier.”
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
“You used to work at the Safeway?” “For two years, until I went off to college.” He grinned fully. I was apparently the man he’d been waiting for. He stepped out of his office, planted both feet flat on the linoleum and looked me up and down. “Can you work a register?” he asked. “Yes, sir.” “And you’ve worked stock?” “Yes, sir.” My God, he was going to hire me! I was going to pass the next two weeks checking out Christmas junk at the Drug Fair for minimum wage! This was not good. The manager handed me a pen and an application clamped to a clipboard, and I took a couple of minutes to fill in the information. “Follow me,” he said, and we walked quickly down aisle four toward the back of the crowded store. “I can use you to relieve my regular cashiers for their lunch and supper breaks, and you can help keep the shelves stocked, especially this display. We’re selling the hell out of these things.” He pointed to a chest-high pyramid of black, orange and beige boxes crowned with an unboxed white plastic kitchen device known to every American who owned a TV. “We’ve had to restock this display three times this morning. You know anything about Veg-O-Matics?” he asked. What happened next was probably brought on by fatigue — or maybe I needed an excuse to get fired before I got hired. Whatever the cause, a synaptic misfire propelled me into the past. I picked up the display device, held it out in front of me and began to deliver the requisite spiel: “Imagine slicing a whole potato into uniform slices with one motion. Bulk cheese costs less. Look how easy Veg-OMatic makes many slices at once. Imagine slicing all these radishes in seconds. This is the only appliance in the world that slices whole firm tomatoes in one stroke with every seed in place. Hamburger lovers, feed whole onions into Veg-OMatic and make these tempting thin slices. Simply turn the dial and change from thin to thick slices. You can slice a whole can of prepared meat at one time. Isn’t that amazing? Like magic, change from slicing to dicing. That’s right, it slices, it dices, it juliennes, perfect every time!” By the time I’d finished yammering, the manager’s eyes were wide and his jaw slack. “How’d you learn that?” he asked. “I used to watch the commercial on TV, and it just sort of stuck in my head.” My fascination with the Veg-O-Matic stretched back to my junior year in high school. Strung out on testosterone and teenage angst, I suffered insomnia for about six months. On those long, restless nights, I’d roll out of bed after everyone else in the house was asleep, slink down to the “rec” room and turn on the blackand-white TV. WJZ, the local CBS affiliate, was the only station out of Baltimore that aired anything other than an Indian Chief test pattern in the early a.m., so I’d tune in channel 13 in time to catch Father Callahan of St. Francis Xavier House of Prayer The Art & Soul of Greensboro
bestowing his benediction. Then I’d settle in for a three-hour run of continuous raise-your-own-chinchillas commercials. My clandestine obsession with Father Callahan and chinchillas continued for two or three months — until the fateful night when the good Father delivered his usual homily and the chinchilla commercials failed to materialize. Instead, a plastic guillotine-like device appeared on the TV screen, contrasted against a background map of the world, below which were printed the words “World Famous Veg-O-Matic.” Then a disembodied voice said: “Imagine slicing a whole potato into uniform slices with one motion. Bulk cheese costs less. Look how easy Veg-O-Matic makes many slices at once. . . . ” I’d spent my Father Callahan/chinchilla nights dozing fitfully on the couch and sneaking back to my room before the rest of the family awakened, but on that memorable evening — I’ve come to think of it as Night of the Veg-O-Matic — I sat there stupefied, watching the commercial over and over. I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen, and by morning I had the narration memorized — every nuance, modulation and inflection — to which I could add hand gestures, including the graceful, upturned palm that beckoned, “Buy me, buy me, buy me. . . .” Later that day, I was eating lunch in the high school cafeteria with my regular buds when freckle-faced Ronnie Wheeler produced a sliced tomato his mother had wrapped in wax paper to keep it from saturating the white bread he needed to construct his BLT. I jumped up, grabbed the tomato slices and ran through the entire Veg-O-Matic routine, spreading the segments across the Formica tabletop and finishing with the obligatory “. . . perfect every time!” My friends were speechless, especially Ronnie, whose sandwich was ruined. They stared blankly before bursting into hysterics. The vice-principal, Mr. Wetherhold, a stern disciplinarian who abhorred any form of frivolity, hurried over to our table to discern the source of the disturbance. “What’s going on here?” he asked sternly. “Do it!” my friends begged. “Do the Veg-O-Matic thing!” They didn’t have to ask twice. When I finished my second run-through, it was Mr. Wetherhold who was howling with laughter. Suffice it to say I spent a good deal of my time in high school doing “the VegO-Matic thing” for my friends. They never tired of it. Now the Drug Fair manager’s face glowed with approval, and I could see that he’d suffered an epiphany. He rushed into the stockroom and reappeared with a folding table. He extended the legs, positioned the table in front of the pyramid of boxes and covered the top with a square of red cheesecloth. He grabbed an onion from the produce aisle, peeled away the skin, and ordered me to deliver my recitation again, this time with the unboxed VegO-Matic at my fingertips. Despite my long and intimate history with the kitchen device, this was the first time I’d worked with one. But I muddled through the presentation by recalling the images I’d watched hundreds of times on TV, each motion transmitted from memory to physical articulation. I made quick work of the onion, repeating the entire monologue. My demonstration, although clumsy, went well O.Henry 51
enough to instantly earn me the title: 1965 Parole Drug Fair VegO-Matic Man. “You’re hired!” the manager said. “I want you to do a demonstration at the top of every hour. Use all the tomatoes and onions you want, but stay away from the cheese and Spam. That stuff costs money.” “Yes, sir,” I said dutifully. “The rest of the time you can restock these Veg-O-Matics and relieve the cashiers who are going on break. Can you start tomorrow?” “Yeah,” I said, “I guess.” “Be here at 8 o’clock, and wear a white shirt.” Crestfallen, I dragged myself into the parking lot and caught the bus back to Eastport. When I stumbled into our living room, it was 11:30 a.m., and I was whipped. “Did Mr. Short hire you?” my mother yelled from the kitchen. “He didn’t have any openings, but I got a job at Drug Fair in Parole.” “Excellent,” she said. When I turned up at Drug Fair on Saturday morning ready to begin my new career, the manager had anticipated my every need. The folding table was set up in aisle four, which was stocked with kitchen junk — Melmac dishes, spatulas, plastic forks, spoons and knives, etc. — and beside the table waited a freshly replenished pyramid of multicolored boxes containing the Veg-O-Matics. The tabletop was covered with the red cheesecloth from the day before, and a white apron of the style that loops around the neck and ties in the back was folded neatly on the table. An unopened can of Spam and a brick of Kraft Velveeta cheese were stacked beside the gleaming white Veg-O-Matic display model I’d used in my earlier demonstration, and a bag of assorted vegetables — tomatoes, onions, carrots and potatoes — awaited their fate. As a touch of class, the manager had placed a roll of paper towels on the table, and a beige commercial dome-topped trash can sat directly behind my workspace. “Here, wear this,” he said, handing me a handsome black clipon bowtie. I donned my apron and attached the bowtie to the wrinkled collar of my white shirt. “Now show me your stuff. Just use vegetables. The Spam and cheese are for show.” I launched into my Veg-O-Matic dance at a measured pace, slicing up a small potato and allowing my hands to gracefully execute a lilting swirl at the conclusion of the shtick. “That was even better than yesterday,” the manager beamed, “although I’d take it a little slower if I were you.” He looked up and down aisle four. “I’ll make an announcement at the top of every hour. You get yourself set up. Sell the hell out of these Veg-OMatics. If you don’t, you’ll be in a checkout stand all day.” And he left me on my own. I peeled an onion, and trimmed it to the proper size and shape. I was ready. Or as ready as I was ever going to be. “We are pleased to direct your attention to aisle four,” I heard the manager announce over the PA system, “where you can view a demonstration of the miracle Veg-O-Matic, the 20th century’s greatest kitchen appliance. It makes an economical and useful Christmas gift! Do all your Christmas shopping in five minutes
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and have your Veg-O-Matics gift wrapped right here in the store. Christmas cards are available on aisle six.” After my first two demonstrations, I discovered that operating the Veg-O-Matic wasn’t quite the effortless exercise I’d observed on TV. I directed my attention to the tomato, which I positioned perfectly between the upper and lower blades. “This is the only appliance in the world that slices whole firm tomatoes in one stroke with every seed in place,” I said, as I slammed down the top of the Veg-O-Matic. The tomato exploded like a water balloon, splattering juice and seeds all over my apron and the tabletop. The two customers who had gathered for my demonstration jumped back and bolted for the exit. I’d created a huge mess. I mopped the tomato slop off my hands with a paper towel and brushed the seeds from my apron, but pulp continued to dribble from the bottom of the Veg-O-Matic, and I had to retreat to the stockroom to wash the blades. So tomatoes were out. Ripe ones, at least. After mopping the splatter from the tabletop, I attempted to slice an onion I’d peeled earlier. I gave a forceful downward thrust and the device worked perfectly, sending a cascade of onion slivers onto the cheesecloth. Still, it was a messy business; pieces of onion got stuck in the blades and had to be pried out. I had the same experience with carrots, stubborn chunks of which had to be worked free with my fingertips. I settled, finally, on a peeled Idaho Russet potato. I cut the spud into four pieces, which I fed individually into the chopper. And the device worked as intended — neat and clean. The Veg-O-Matic was, after all, meant to transform a time-consuming, chaotic operation into a simple, wholesome procedure. And that’s what it did. The secret, as with many physical actions, was in the wrist. It was all finesse. I’d place a piece of potato on the bottom blades and apply a sharp downward whack with the top. And voila! the potato was julienned, perfect for hash browns. If I spoke slowly, worked methodically and was meticulous with my cleanup, I could kill the better part of a half hour on each demonstration, thus allowing for only 30 minutes of working at a cash register before my next demonstration. At first, I was worried that I wouldn’t sell enough Veg-O-Matics to keep my new job, but the pile of boxes diminished at an everincreasing rate as Christmas approached and the manager was a happy man. I’d sold six to eight Veg-O-Matics with each demonstration, and I noticed that many customers who didn’t make an immediate purchase returned later to snatch up two or three Veg-O-Matics, having chosen convenience over thoughtful reflection. Usually these return customers felt compelled to offer an explanation for their delayed purchase. “You know,” they’d say, “I was thinking about your demonstration, and you’re right, this will make an excellent gift for my mother.” Every day I’d work straight through until 10 p.m., taking an hour each for lunch and dinner, and then I’d catch the bus home in the dark. I’d shower and collapse into my bed to read for a few seconds in Pigs Have Wings, my latest Wodehouse novel, before falling asleep. And that’s how it went for seven straight days. I’d turn up at Drug Fair at 8 a.m., an hour before the store opened, to prepare the potatoes for my demonstration. I’d restock the Veg-O-Matic The Art & Soul of Greensboro
display, piling the boxes high in an ergonomically conical construct of my own contrivance, and check out a register tray so that I could relieve cashiers who went on break. If my schedule was exhausting, it also had its advantages. I slept like a stone, and the days flew by. At home, I didn’t have a conversation with my mother, father or sister that lasted more than 10 seconds. “Hi, how ya doing?” was as intimate as it got, which suited me. My father was asleep when I left in the morning and when I came in at night, I didn’t have to listen to my mother and sister bicker. Only my brother Mike, with whom I shared a room, was around when I staggered in whacked out from 12 hours of working with the public. He’d fill me in on the day’s drama with my sister, which made me glad I’d be headed back to college soon. When the store closed at 9 p.m. on Christmas Eve, I used my humongous 5 percent employee discount to purchase gifts for the family — a cheap cotton bathrobe for my mother, which turned out to fit her like a circus tent, a simulated leather wallet for my father, a 45 of Donovan’s “Catch the Wind” for my brother, and the Beatles’ Help! for my sister. I was headed out the door with my packages when the manager stopped me. “You’ve done a good job,” he said, a genuine smile on his pasty face. “And I’m hoping you’ll consider coming back to work through New Year’s Eve. You won’t be selling Veg-O-Matics, but I need experienced help to run the registers and handle returns. I could use you for at least 12 hours a day.” Normally I would have responded with an emphatic “No,” but fresh in my memory were the money problems I’d experienced during my first four months at college and the hours I spent in McEwen Dining Hall scraping greasy dishes and scrubbing pots. With my paltry allowance, there was no hope of establishing a relationship with any of the girls I found myself drooling over as they roamed the campus. It was essential I screw up my courage and get myself an on-campus date. I’d have to double with an upperclassman who had a car, and to make that happen, I needed enough money to cover my share of the gas. “All right,” I answered. “Can I get some overtime?” “I’ll give you all the overtime you want. You can work 14 hours a day if you skip lunch and dinner.” “All right,” I answered, “I’ll be glad to help out.” So on December 27, I was standing behind a cash register refunding money for the Veg-O-Matics I’d sold the week before. “I’d like to get the money back for this thing,” the customer would say, handing me the orange and black box. They occasionally offered excuses such as “I already have one of these” or “I have no use for this piece of junk,” but what they wanted was cash. In almost every case the customer returning the Veg-O-Matic was not the person who’d bought it, so I didn’t consider the returns a criticism of my performance. I handed them the money and stuck the boxes and signed receipts under the register. At the end of the day, I toted the returned Veg-O-Matics to the storeroom and piled them up in the same space they’d occupied when they were new. To compound this irony, the manager handed me a hammer at closing time on my first post-Christmas day as a cashier and sent me to the stockroom to smash the Veg-O-Matics the store had taken back. “Just bash those veggie things into little bits and put them The Art & Soul of Greensboro
back in the boxes,” he directed. “And while you’re at it, smash up these toys that didn’t get sold.” The manager didn’t explain why I needed to destroy so much perfectly good merchandise, and I didn’t ask. But I laid into my new task with gusto, obliterating hundreds of Veg-O-Matics along with Chatty Cathy dolls, Etch-ASketches, tin airliners, space guns, trains, battery-powered James Bond Aston Martin cars, Rock ’em Sock ’em Robots, Easy-Bake Ovens, electric football games, G.I. Joes, and the occasional Barbie doll, perfectly good toys that might have gone to poor children who’d suffered a sad Christmas. But it was exhilarating work — and strangely gratifying — an anti-capitalistic binge that assuaged the guilt I’d suffered from selling plastic crap to poor people. But the days were long, and there was no time to hang out with my friends. When I got off work at 9 p.m., I was too worn out to go to parties or ride around with high school buds. I’d catch the bus back to Eastport and fall into bed. The following morning, I’d get up and do it again. On my last day of work, a Friday, the manager shook my hand. “You’re a lifesaver,” he said, pumping my weary arm. “If you need a job next Christmas, just let me know.” I smiled, gave him my college post office box number and asked him to send my check there rather than to my home address. “You should get it before the 10th,” he said. During the two-and-a-half weeks I’d toiled at Drug Fair, my parents hardly noticed my absence. I was a shadow who flitted in and out at odd hours. And I wanted it that way. I didn’t have to listen to them argue, which was their habitual method of communication during any holiday season when they were forced to remain in each other’s company for more than five continuous minutes. And if my parents didn’t realize the hours I was working, they’d have no idea how much money I was making. Had they an inkling of the cash I was likely to pocket, they would have given me that much less for tuition, room and board, and the endless hours I’d spent slaving at Drug Fair would have been for naught. On the evening before my return to Elon, in honor of my having been invisible during the holiday season, my mother prepared lasagna, my favorite dish. “You headed back tomorrow?” my father asked. “First thing in the morning,” I answered, “I’m going to catch the bus.” My mother looked puzzled. “It seems like you just got here,” she said. “I’ve been working the whole time.” “Good,” she said. “How much money did you make?” “I don’t know. I haven’t gotten paid yet — and the wage at Drug Fair isn’t as much as it is at the Safeway. I’ll let you know when the check arrives.” I was lying, of course. I had no intention of telling anyone how much money I’d earned. It was nobody’s business but mine. OH Stephen E. Smith is a retired professor and the author of eight books of poetry and prose. He’s the recipient of the Poetry Northwest Young Poet’s Prize, the Zoe Kincaid Brockman Prize for poetry and four North Carolina Press Awards. This is an excerpt from his forthcoming book The Year We Danced: A Memoir. O.Henry 53
Following the thread of a financial genius
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By Ross Howell Jr.
orkers commenced production at Burlington Mills Corp. in 1924, before construction of the building was even finished. Only half of the weave room had a floor, while the rest was earthen. Entrepreneur J. Spencer Love had chartered the company on November 6, 1923, naming it in tribute to the town where it would be located. The plant in Burlington would eventually employ some 200 workers. Burlington Mills first produced all-cotton textiles, including flag cloth, bunting, curtain and dress fabrics, plus diaper cloth. But sales of cotton goods were declining. Spencer Love decided to experiment with a fiber called rayon — relatively unknown to
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American households. Rayon is made from purified cellulose, harvested primarily from wood pulp, which is then chemically converted. Right out of the gate, Burlington’s rayon bedspreads were a runaway success, facilitated by Love’s commitment to a world-class truck fleet for delivering products. In 1935, Love (standing under the portico, wearing a light-colored overcoat) decided to move the company from its Burlington headquarters to Greensboro — primarily to take advantage of better rail transportation to New York City, where the company had opened a sales office in 1929, the year of the stock market crash. As America sank into the Great Depression, Burlington Mills kept growing, buying and reopening many of its competiThe Art & Soul of Greensboro
Left Page: J. Spencer Love (1896-1962) parlayed used equipment from his grandfather's cotton mill into the largest textile manufacturing company in the world. Right Page, Top: From modest facilities outside its namesake town, Burlington Mills Corp. shipped goods nationally aboard a fleet of trucks bearing the Bur-Mil logo. Right Page, Left: Burlington Mills bedspreads woven with a new fiber called rayon were an instant success. Right Page, Right: World War II demand for military clothing and fabrics such as parachute cloth accelerated the company’s success.
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Left page, Left: Workers at what became known as the Burlington Mills “Pioneer Plant.” Left page, Bottom: New headquarters for Burlington Mills were built on Eugene Street in Greensboro in 1935. Right page: With its new corporate logo emblazoned on the roof, Burlington Industries relocated to an expansive headquarters on Friendly Avenue in 1971.
tors’ shuttered mills. Love’s strategy of growth through acquisition continued after the Depression and made the company an industry giant. Fred Rogers, Friendly Acres, remembers: “For a decade starting about 1990, I worked in the Burlington House division of Burlington Industries. That division had offices at 1345 Avenue of the Americas in New York City and in the town of Burlington, just down the street from the pioneer plant, where Spencer Love had built his first mill in a cornfield. A lot of people think of Love as a manufacturing man, but he was, in fact, a financial man. I’d say he was one of the earliest and best financiers in America, because he grew his company by acquisition. He was a financial genius.” Men in skivvies? Burlington operations took a sharp turn in 1941, when the U.S. entered World War II. Burlington shifted to wartime production of more than 50 products for the armed forces, while the company’s research laboratories developed parachute cloth woven with a new fiber — nylon, a thermoplastic usually made from petroleum. Postwar, Burlington developed an array of clothing and home goods. Magazine ads featuring GIs
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gave way to TV ads with a “dancing man” wearing Burlington socks or stars such as singer Petula Clark and actor Robert Morley as spokespersons for the brand — along with a new corporate name, Burlington Industries. Founder J. Spencer Love directed bold innovations during his nearly 40 years as president, but died unexpectedly at the age of 65 in 1962, the year Burlington Industries surpassed $1 billion in annual sales and became the first textile company in history to achieve that goal. In the 1960s, Burlington was the parent corporation for 17 constituent companies comprising more than 100 plants that manufactured products ranging from ribbon and suit fabrics to hosiery and carpets. Retired schoolteacher Jane Gallimore, Fisher Park, remembers: “My family was living upstairs in the funeral home in Burlington my father owned. I was 10 years old. We’d driven over to Kirkwood to visit my aunt. Spencer Love’s death was in all the newspapers and my aunt suggested we drive by the house, just to see what was going on. I remember the house being on Sunset The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Drive. It had a circular driveway and we watched cars enter, dropping people off. I remember seeing butlers wearing white coats and white gloves meeting the cars and escorting guests inside. That sight has stayed with me all these years.” In 1971, Burlington Industries built a new headquarters in Greensboro. The six-story structure featured an award-winning architectural design and was located on an expansive campus on Friendly Avenue. Its massive, crisscrossing steel trusses were said to represent the warp and weft of the fabric that created Burlington Industries’ great wealth. But for many people, they were a huge eyesore. The building was demolished in 2005 to make way for Friendly Center Shopping Center. Delores Sides, Summerfield, remembers: “Twenty-nine years ago I began work at Burlington Industries in the Rockingham plant. During the boom years, the company built a modern, glass-and-steel headquarters on Friendly Avenue. The structure won architectural awards, though everyone seemed to have an opinion about it, not always favorable. When the building was imploded in 2005, we watched from our new The Art & Soul of Greensboro
headquarters on Green Valley Road. We could glimpse the top of the building from our windows. There was a vibration, and then the top of the building was gone. It was the end of an era.” After expending $2 billion over a 10-year period on a modernization initiative in the 1970s, Burlington Industries fended off a hostile takeover attempt in 1987 with a leveraged buyout, but was forced to file for Chapter 11 reorganization bankruptcy protection in 2001. While diminished from its heyday, Burlington Industries has been recapitalized and now manufactures high-tech fabrics at facilities in the Southeastern U.S., Mexico and China. Its offices were recently moved from Green Valley Road to — fittingly enough — beautiful, renovated facilities at Revolution Mill. OH Freelance writer Ross Howell Jr. is grateful to Elevate Textiles, Inc., for its help with this article. For more information on Burlington Industries, visit www.elevatetextiles.com. On YouTube, you can find examples of vintage Burlington Industries TV ads, including the dancing man.
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A Dose of Happy
With a touch of love, the ordinary becomes extraordinary By Cassie Bustamante • Photographs by Amy Freeman
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hortly after moving into her Oak Ridge home, Tasha Agruso got an idea. An awesome idea. A wonderful, awesome idea — to create what looked like apartment entries out of her daughters’ side-by-side doors. Armed with door knockers, mailboxes, wreaths, doormats — even a lantern Tasha rigged with a battery-operated puck light — Attley and Avery each received a treatment that suited their individual tastes. The kicker? Tasha added address numbers that feature the time each was born, just a minute apart: Avery at 2:57 and Attley at 2:58. And so began a new adventure in renovating, which was not at all what they had in mind. When Tasha and her husband, Joe, decided to move to the country, they had hoped their new chapter would unfold in a new build. After all, they’d just spent eight years transforming their previous home. “I love renovating, but I was tired,” says Tasha. After bidding unsuccessfully on two newly constructed homes, the couple settled for an eight-year-old home on a quiet Oak Ridge street. “It ticked every box and, so I thought, we can do the same thing,” says Tasha. “We’ll do it slowly.” In October of 2020, the Agrusos moved out of their contemporary Starmount Forest dwelling and began their journey creating a colorful country oasis for themselves and their 12-year-old twin daughters. In just three years, Tasha and Joe, a firefighter, have made tremendous strides. Tasha documents the DIY projects and makeovers on her website, Kaleidoscope Living. Her skills have The Art & Soul of Greensboro
earned her an appearance on the Rachael Ray Show as well as features in several digital and print publications such as Better Homes & Gardens. Through her site (kaleidoscopeliving. com) and on instagram (@tasha.kaleidoscope), where she boasts a formidable fan base of over 100,000 followers, “I educate people about how to decorate their homes in a way that makes them happy,” she says. And she should know. It’s something she’s perfected in the many years spent making over their new house as well as their former home, the one that she says “changed everything.” During their time spent living in Starmount Forest, her daughters grew from toddlerhood into tween-age; the couple honed their DIY skills; Tasha left her career as a lawyer to forge a path in the digital world through her website’s educational tools and print shop (read about that journey in our 2018 summer issue of Seasons: seasonsmagazinenc.com/designer-profile); and, finally, it “was the house where we finally really understood our style.” And that style? A blend of Joe’s more reserved approach, Tasha’s love of color and pattern, and functionality for all four. Three years after selling it, Tasha still misses their Greensboro home fiercely. “If I could have lifted that home and moved it, I would have,” she muses. As for the current home, will she ever love it as much? If you’d asked her when they first bought it, “Absolutely not possible.” But now? “If I am here for eight years like I was there and we continue to slowly change everything that we want to change, yeah. I could even love it more.” O.Henry 59
living room, it serves as the heart of the home. And did Joe get a say? “I have always said we both have the power of veto,” says Tasha. In fact, it’s something they have resorted to from time to time. After all, she says, “we both live here.” Together, they’ll narrow down choices, eliminating those — such as a very bold, colorful, plaid stair runner — that take Joe beyond his comfort zone. “His little bit of restraint is probably one of the things that makes things not cross the line into too chaotic,” Tasha admits. That yin and yang of their blended aesthetic is visibly at work in their primary bedroom. White walls pair with white furnishings and a gray upholstered bed, but color comes through in lush, green velvet textiles, and patterned and abstract art. The result? A serene yet far-from-boring sanctuary for a busy couple. For Tasha, it was important that her daughters each have their own personal havens as well. Avery, a swimmer who favors neutrals like her father, sleeps in a cozy room blanketed in whites and warm woods. Small doses of earthy colors show up here and there in the holiday-green textiles, and artwork such as the Christmas village canvas on her wall, created by Tasha. As for that canvas and many of the prints throughout her house, well, Tasha took a note from the Grinch, who could not find a reindeer and made one instead. “Sometimes when you can picture what you want and you know what the space needs, you
Location is the one aspect of a house that cannot be changed and the family knew what they needed. “We’re all just such homebodies.” While she’s sure homebodies can exist in bustling areas, she says there are those “who crave quiet and stillness. That’s the kind we are.” In their current home, the couple has applied what they’ve learned, chipping away with project after project since moving over the last three years. The makeover that has had the biggest impact on Tasha? Probably not what you’d expect: the stairwell. “People ask, ‘Why would you take out iron balusters and put in wood ones?’” Tasha says, then answers. “Because we didn’t like the other ones.” Once the more traditional wooden balusters were put in place, she got to work painting the stair risers and bordering walls in Sherwin-Williams’ Refuge, and the balusters and handrails were coated in Seaworthy. But the crowning touch? “We could have made all the structural and paint color changes to the stairs and it wouldn’t be my favorite if it weren’t for the colorful stair runner,” says Tasha. Now, the colorful random-rainbow stair runner, she says, “is like a dose of happy every time you walk up and down.” Used every day, visible from the entry, primary bedroom hallway and
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can’t find it,” she says. So, she makes it. She has both painted with watercolors and created with graphics editing apps, first using Illustrator, but is excited to try her hand at Procreate with digital brushes she just ordered. “We’ll see how that journey goes,” she quips. Attley, a dancer who craves bright colors like her mother, has the same Pure White paint by SherwinWilliams on her walls, accented by a vibrant floral wallpaper in aqua, pink, green and golden yellow behind her bed. Her furniture is painted in saturated hues of coral, peony and mustard, all playing off the whimsical large-scale paper. And, of course, the artwork in her room was also designed by mom. Just as Tasha teaches readers of her website to decorate in a way that makes them happy, she wanted her girls to get the memo. “It just felt almost like a subliminal message to send to them: You’re your own people, you have your own identities, you have your own spaces and I love them both so much.” That individualism spills out into the hallway where she created those apartment-style doors. And while the mailboxes are mostly a fun decorative detail at this The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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point, Tasha anticipates using them in the upcoming teen years. With Attley and Avery turning 13 later this month, Tasha says, “We might be entering that phase of life where it’s hard for them to say things directly to us and vice versa,” she says. “Sometimes it’s easier just to communicate things in writing.” Tasha sites these doorway makeovers as a prime example of what she believes. “The whole reason I chose the name Kaleidoscope Living . . . is because I have always believed and hope to have proven that you can take very ordinary objects and make them extraordinary.” It’s just like when you look through a kaleidoscope: “The most basic thing can become incredible.” Just outside their doorways in the upstairs hall is a nod to both Joe and his father, a volunteer firefighter who passed away a few years ago. A vintage “Fire Dept.” sign that once belonged to Joe’s dad hangs above two antique fire extinguishers Tasha surprised Joe with several years ago. Until now, she says, they hadn’t found the right home. Back on the main floor, the balance between Joe and Tasha’s aesthetics can be seen at play. In their living room, Tasha sits on a lush, comfortable sectional, her feet propped up on a warm leather ottoman. Behind her, a picture ledge featuring large-scale art, a patterned accent wall and textiles provide her favorite details. “I am always led by color and texture and pattern,” she says. Next to her, a stitched color-block pillow exemplifies those elements. While selecting art used to intimidate Tasha, who felt herself unqualified, over time she
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learned to trust her instincts. “Finally, I realized I should probably just pick what I like,” she says. Opening to the spacious living room, the kitchen serves as visual eye candy, featuring an island Tasha painted in the same vivid teal as its cabinets, Fusion mineral paint in Seaside. While the island is lined with four large and comfortable leather-woven counter stools, the family still opts to use their dining room regularly. “I just have a pet peeve of rooms not being used, so we don’t treat our dining room like it’s precious or special,” says Tasha. Her years of learning to do what she loves have led to what she’s sure will be a highly controversial dining room decision. “By God, we’re putting a TV in there!” she says. These days with the juggling of their active kids’ schedules, Tasha and Joe eat dinner with Attley most nights while keeping Avery’s warm for her return, which generally coincides with when the family sits down to watch a show together. Current stream? Modern Family. While a TV in a dining room is far from conventional, so is this modern family. Tasha leans into what works for them. “I know a lot of people have what you would call a traditional Christmas meal that looks a lot like Thanksgiving would look,” she says. But the Agrusos? They keep it simple with a Christmas meal of spaghetti and meatballs, a nod to Joe’s Italian heritage. Because Joe works as a firefighter, there are times when he can’t
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be home for the holidays. Another unique Agruso family tradition? Tasha and the girls bake “something yummy” to bring to the station. “That’s a weird part of our tradition, but it’s part of our reality.” One thing they always make time to do together is decorate the Christmas tree, usually before Thanksgiving so that they can enjoy its glow for a longer time. When it comes to decorating for the holidays, Tasha follows her heart, staying true to what she loves, “which is probably why I have things that I bought 20 years ago that I still love.” Avocado-green and dusty-red ornaments — nontraditional traditionals — purchased from Crate & Barrel during Tasha and Joe’s first Christmas together still, to this day, adorn their tree and fit the existing aesthetic. After all, when you decorate by choosing what you really love, you’re sure to be happy with the outcome. “It’s like what bra and underwear you pick. Is it comfortable to you?” asks Tasha as she takes in the home she’s been personalizing for the last three years. She laughs and adds, “I have literally never thought of the undergarment analogy, but it’s actually a really good one.” OH
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River in the Sky
A L M A N A C
December By Ashley Walshe
D
ecember is a waltz with what’s still here; a slowing down; warmth from new directions. These frigid mornings, dawn lingers. Through the kitchen window, soft light unveils a council of leafless trees, silhouettes of cottontails, a frost-laced landscape. As steam rises from the mug in your hands, you feel the sudden swell of loss. The sting of what’s not here. The emptiness of winter. You deepen your breath, allowing the wave of grief to pass almost as quickly as it arrived. Unexpectedly, a surge of joy follows. When resident birds pierce the rosepink silence with their silvery warbles and trills, you look toward the swinging feeders, eager to honor your end of the deal. The agreement is simple: You offer sustenance; they offer life. You set down the mug for the bundling ritual. Outside, the cold air enlivens you. Toting the bag of seed, you follow your breath to the wee, suspended altars. The winged ones disperse. Despite the crunch of frozen earth, the starkness of the skyline, the withering garden, a softness cradles these early winter days. Nature doesn’t mourn what’s gone like we do. As you refill the feeders, a cardinal whistles from a nearby holly; chickadees sing among towering pines. Winter isn’t empty, you remember. Nor is it quiet. It simply offers space for deeper listening.
The winter sky is a stargazer’s dream. These crystalline nights, don’t let the cold air stop you from getting intimate with Orion and company. Among the best-seen constellations this month — Aries (the ram), Triangulum (the triangle), Fornax (the furnace), Horologium (the clock) and Perseus — is a vast celestial river that begins at the footstool of the Hunter and meanders down, down, down to the southern horizon and Achernar, the constellation’s brightest star. Among the 48 original constellations catalogued by Greek astronomer Claudius Ptolemy, Eridanus requires a dark sky. It may be faint, but if you’re able to spot this massive star cluster — home to the socalled Eridanus supervoid and the Witch Head Nebula — surely you won’t regret the extra effort.
Light of Arthur Days are getting shorter. On December 21, the winter solstice marks the shortest day — and longest night — of the year. Ancient cultures birthed countless myths and legends about the solstice. Scots attributed the darkening days to a giant hag-goddess named Cailleach, queen of winter. Finnish myth tells of a shapeshifting witch who steals the sun and moon. Nordic people called the solstice “Mother’s Night,” believing that their goddesses gave birth at the season’s darkest hour to offer more light. In Druidic tradition, the Wheel of the Year now revolves to Alban Arthan, a winter solstice festival that celebrates the light of King Arthur, symbolically reborn as the Mabon (sun child). This much is true: From darkness comes light. May we trust the grand unfolding, honoring the journey from winter to spring again and again. OH
In a way Winter is the real Spring — the time when the inner things happen, the resurgence of nature. — Edna O’Brien
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WELCOME TO
STYLE We’ve lined up 12 of the most wonderful businesses for this most wonderful time of the year. When planning your holiday shopping, please remember to Buy Local!
Need gift ideas? Look no further! It’s that time of year to give the gifts you know they’ll love and enjoy. Whether it’s for her or for him, nothing says I care more than a gift card to Restoration MedSpa. With full service medical spa locations in both Winston-Salem and Greensboro we are sure to fit everyone on your list. Plus, as our gift to you, every gift card you purchase comes with a give just for you! Call today to reserve your gift.
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With antique treasures from humble to grand and gifts galore, come and enjoy a one of a kind shopping experience at Boxwood Antique Market. Wishing everyone a joyous holiday season and a prosperous New Year. Warmest Regards, Joey & Jana, Owners of Boxwood Antique Market
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520 NORTH HAMILTON STREET, HIGH POINT, NC 27262 336-781-3111 Open Tuesday-Saturday 10-6, Sun 1-6 Photographed at the Emerywood home of Joey Marlowe & Chad Collins
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Hanes Lineberry Funeral Services in Greensboro, North Carolina, has helped families honor and celebrate their loved ones with respect and dignity for more than a century. We provide the compassionate care, personalized service and expertise needed to create thoughtful, unique memorials that you and your guests will cherish for year to come.
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Celebrate the holiday season with four Festive Winter Frolic Plates from Juliska. Made of shatterproof melamine, these durable dessert, salad or party plates are designed for easy entertaining, making the holiday season a dash merrier! As part of Juliska’s Country Estate Winter collection, each plate features a scalloped ruby-hued border with a charming seasonal sketch in the center. This pattern is available in Stoneware too! Add to your collection with platters, bowls, mugs, and more. Shop in our store or online at www.extraingredient.com.
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For generations, Schiffman’s Jewelers has been the trusted choice for families in the Piedmont Triad region, helping them mark and cherish life’s significant occasions. We take immense pride in our enduring relationships with the world’s most prestigious jewelry, watch, and giftware brands. Being a part of your celebrations is something we hold dear, and we eagerly look forward to helping you find the ideal gift to honor those who hold a special place in your heart.
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‘Tis the season for spiritual reading! Whether it’s a children’s tale, daily meditation book, spiritual novel, or story about the building of a chapel, Chip Bristol has just the book for you. Give everyone on your list “soul food” this Christmas.
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The Health Insurance Shoppe’ was established in 2011 to help people make educated choices with their health insurance and Medicare choices. Ask our professionally trained staff and Certified Senior Advisors to guide you. We represent you first and every company equally with no charge for our services. The 7 SWANS A-SWIMMING from the song…represent the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit: Prophesy, Serving, Teaching, Encouraging, Giving, Leadership and Compassion. During this Holiday Season, we hope that you will all be blessed with these seven gifts and many more!
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Discover the warm and personal touch of DreamMaker Bath & Kitchen of Greensboro. Let our experts turn your remodeling dreams into a cozy reality. Our approach, from design to installation, is all about creating a home that truly reflects your vision. We believe in craftsmanship, ethics, and clear communication throughout your project, ensuring minimal disruption to your daily life. As a local, independently owned franchise, we value community and offer the latest in products and techniques. Let’s
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Become a member of the North Carolina Zoo to experience a full year of encounters with animals from North America and Africa – Asia coming soon! The world’s largest natural habitat zoo celebrates nature and allows the animals plenty of room to roam. A dedicated team of experts provide exceptional, compassionate care to more than 1,700 animals that call the North Carolina Zoo home. Leading efforts locally and globally to protect wildlife is critical for our collective future. Your membership to the zoo supports efforts to protect endangered species and habitats. Memberships vary in pricing and benefits.
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Cute ‘n’ Cozy for Caroling? Nouveau-chic For New Years? Create countless looks with Our Holiday Collection of Color! Whether you’re gifting or keeping, stop in for an express makeover and shop our exclusive in-store bright and brilliant 4-piece free gift with the purchase of two or more items, while supplies last.
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There is no place like home, especially during the holidays. It is a joy to help our clients create spaces they love all year long with custom window treatments from A Shade Better. Whether you have your sights set on blinds, shades, shutters, or draperies, A Shade Better has just the right treat for every window on your list. From our A Shade Better Family to each of yours, we wish you a Very Merry Christmas and a Blessed New Year.
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Don’t put off that trip you’ve been wanting to take! Billy Summers and his team specialize in planning all-inclusive vacations, charters, tours and vacation packages for individuals, families and groups. As certified specialists with all major cruise lines, tour companies and resorts, they can arrange trips for special interest groups and are both a Disney Authorized Travel Agent and a certified Autism Trav-
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Please verify times, costs, status and location before attending an event. Although conscientious efforts are made to provide accurate and up-to-date information, the world is subject to change and errors can occur!
December
2023
To submit an event for consideration, email us at ohenrymagcalendar@gmail. com by 5 p.m. the first of the month one month prior to the event.
Weekly Events SUNDAYS BARRE CLASS. 10 a.m. Strengthen, tone and stretch your way into the week. Tickets: $10. Grandover Resort & Spa, 1000 Club Road, Greensboro. Info: grandoverresort.com.
TUESDAYS PELVIC HEALTH YOGA. 8:30–9:30 a.m. This Vinyasa-style flow class works toward lengthening and strengthening the pelvic floor and surrounding muscles. Free, registration required and donations accepted. Triad Pelvic Health, 5574 Garden Village Way, Greensboro. Info: triadpelvichealth.com/classes.
PHOTOGRAPH BY CAROLINE ALMY
WEDNESDAYS WINE WEDNESDAY. 5–8 p.m. Sip wine, munch pizza and enjoy the soothing sounds of live jazz. Free. Double Oaks, 204 N. Mendenhall St. Greensboro. Info: double-oaks.com/wine-wednesday. LIVE MUSIC. 6–9 p.m. Evan Olson and Jessica Mashburn of AM rOdeO play covers and original music. Free. Print Works Bistro. 702 Green Valley Road, Greensboro. Info: printworksbistro.com/gallery/music.
THURSDAYS JAZZ AT THE O.HENRY. 6–9 p.m. Sip vintage craft cocktails and snack on tapas while the O.Henry Trio performs with a different jazz vocalist each week. Free. O.Henry Hotel Social Lobby, 624 Green Valley Road, Greensboro. Info: ohenryhotel.com/o-henry-jazz. WALK THIS WAY. 6 p.m. Put on your The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Winter Wonderlights 12.01‒12.03, 12.06‒12.23, 12.26‒12.31.2023 sneakers for a 2–4 mile social stroll or jog with the Downtown Greenway Run & Walk Club, which is open to all ages and abilities. Free. LoFi Park, 500 N. Eugene St., Greensboro. Info: downtowngreenway.org/events.
THURSDAYS & SATURDAYS KARAOKE & COCKTAILS. 8 p.m. until midnight, Thursdays; 9 p.m. until midnight, Saturdays. Courtney Chandler hosts a night of sipping and singing. Free. 19 & Timber Bar at Grandover Resort & Spa, 1000 Club Road, Greensboro. Info: grandoverresort.com.
FRIDAYS & SATURDAYS LIVE MUSIC. 7–10 p.m. Enjoy drinks in the 1808 Lobby Bar while soaking up live music provided by local artists. Free. Grandover Resort & Spa, 1000 Club Road, Greensboro. Info: grandoverresort.com.
SATURDAYS YOGA. 9:30 a.m. Don’t stay in bed when you could namaste in the spa studio. Tickets: $10. Grandover Resort & Spa, 1000 Club Road, Greensboro. Info: grandoverresort.com. WATER AEROBICS. 10:30 a.m. Make a splash while getting a heart-pumping workout at an indoor pool. Tickets: $10. Grandover Resort & Spa, 1000 Club Road, Greensboro. Info: grandoverresort.com. BLACKSMITH DEMONSTRATION. 10 a.m.–4:30 p.m. Watch a costumed blacksmith in action as he crafts various iron pieces. Free. Historical Park at High Point Museum, 1859 E. Lexington Ave., High Point. Info: highpointmuseum.org.
December 01–31 PEPPERMINT ALLEY. Any time. Stroll through a selfie-lover’s candy cane dream O.Henry 83
december calendar for festive photo opps. Free. Alley adjacent to Boxcar Bar + Arcade, 120 W. Lewis St., Greensboro. Info: downtowngreensboro.org/downtown-in-december. FIELDS & FEATHERS. 10 a.m.–4:30 p.m. Discover photos and artifacts at a new exhibition, Fields & Feathers: Hunting at Deep River Lodge, 1895-1935. Open through January 2024. Free. High Point Museum, 1859 E. Lexington Ave., High Point. Info: highpointmuseum.org.
December Events December 01–27 MOMENTS SOWN. Peruse the solo exhibition of Crystal Edie Miller, whose collection features soft coastal colors and bold abstract choices on canvas. Revolution Mill’s Central Gallery, 1150 Revolution Mill Drive, Greensboro. Info: crystaleadiemiller.com.
December 01–03, 06–23, 26–31
WINTER WONDERLIGHTS. 5:30–10 p.m. Greensboro Science Center’s holiday light display opens for the season. Tickets: $16+; under 3, free. Greensboro Science Center, 4301 Lawndale Drive, Greensboro. Info: greensboroscience.org/winterwonderlights.
December 01–04, 06–11, 13– 18, 20–24, 26–31 PIEDMONT WINTERFEST. Times vary. Glide, twirl or stumble your way across the ice rink with friends and family at its new location. Tickets: $15. LeBauer Park, 200 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: piedmontwinterfest.com.
December 01–03 DISNEY ON ICE. Times vary. Glide through a magical journey with Mickie, Minnie and friends through modern and classic tales. Tickets: $20+. Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 W. Gate
City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com/events. CHRISTMAS WITH C. S. LEWIS. Times vary. Travel back in time to 1962 with a troupe of actors reenacting C.S. Lewis hosting a group of writers at his home just outside of Oxford, England. Tickets: $64. Odeon Theatre at the Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com/events.
December 01–02 THEATER SHOWCASE. 7:30 p.m. UNCG B.F.A. acting and musical theater students present a series of American contemporary scenes. Free, reservations required. Pam and David Sprinkle Theatre, 402 Tate St., Greensboro. Info: vpa.uncg.edu/theatre/ performances-and-events/productions.
December 01 FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS. 5:30–9 p.m. Enjoy live entertainment and food ven-
PHOTOGRAPH BY LYNN DONOVAN
Handmade In House
121-A WEST MCGEE ST. GREENSBORO, NC 27401 WWW.JACOBRAYMONDJEWELRY.COM | 336.763.9569
84 O.Henry
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
There’s no place like home for the
holidays Quality Care, Kindness, & Affordability. All while staying at home. 1515 W Cornwallis Drive, Suite 100 Greensboro, NC 27408
Phone: 336.285.9107 Fax: 336.285.9109
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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december calendar dor treats as you await the community tree lighting scheduled for 6:56 p.m. Free. Center City Park, 200 N. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: downtowngreensboro. org/downtown-in-december. TROUBADOURS. 6:30–9 p.m. Enjoy a night of festive music during the annual Troubadours’ Christmas Concert, which benefits Room at the Inn, an organization that provides housing and programming to single, pregnant women and single mothers. Free, suggested $10 donation. Carolina Theatre, 310 S. Greene St., Greensboro. Info: roominn.org/events. HANDMADE MARKET. 5–9 p.m. Ceramics, textiles, jewelry and more products created by Forge makers will be available for purchase. Free. Transform Greensboro, 111 Lewis St., Greensboro. Info: forgegreensboro.org.
December 02–31 WINTER SHOW. GreenHill Center for NC Art’s annual Winter Show returns
featuring North Carolina artists’ works for purchase and viewing. Tickets: Dec. 2 Collector’s Choice opening gala, $100+; Dec. 3 on, free. Greensboro Cultural Center, 200 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: greenhillnc.org/winter-show-2023.
December 02–03 THE NUTCRACKER. Times vary. The Dance Center of Greensboro presents its telling of the classic holiday story. Tickets: $25. High Point Theatre, 220 E. Commerce Ave., High Point. Info: highpointtheatre.com/events. IN THE GARDEN WITH SANTA. Noon–4 p.m. Evergreen is one of Santa’s favorite colors, so why not get a family or pet photo taken with the big guy among the greens during the Greensboro Council of Garden Clubs’ annual event? Plants, gardening gloves and pecans will also be available for purchase. $20. 222-4 Swing Road, Greensboro. Info: email gcgclubs@triad.twcbc.com.
December 02–16 SEAGROVE OPEN HOUSE. Weekends only, visit various Seagrove area potters to shop and enjoy special events during the three weekends leading up to Christmas. Free. Seagrove area. Info: discoverseagrove.com/events-all.
December 02 & 16 CHRISTMAS BY CANDLELIGHT. 5–9 p.m. Costumed guides lead visitors through a Victorian Christmas evening, complete with decorations, carols and poems. Körner’s Folly, 413 S. Main St., Kernersville. Info: kornersfolly.org/visit/event-calendar.
December 02 HOLIDAY PARADE. Noon–2 p.m. A parade featuring holiday and character balloons floats through Downtown Greensboro. Free. Church, Market and Greene Streets, Greensboro. Info: downtowngreensboro.org/ downtown-in-december.
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86 O.Henry
TICKETS AND DETAILS AT BURLINGTONBOYSCHOIR.ORG
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
december calendar POLAR EXPRESS. 9 a.m. Enjoy free popcorn, a festive singalong and a screening of the children’s holiday classic film. Free. Carolina Theatre, 310 S. Greene St., Greensboro. Info: carolinatheatre.com/events. CHORAL CONCERT. 7:30 p.m. Triad Pride Men’s and Women’s Choruses celebrate the Silver and Light of the season with a repertoire of holiday tunes. Tickets: $20+. Congregational Church, 400 W. Radiance Drive, Greensboro. Info, including High Point and WinstonSalem performances: triadprideperformingarts.org. NIGHT BEFORE. 4 p.m. Enjoy a special-guest performance of the Greensboro Youth Chorus as they join Bel Canto Company in a retelling of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. Free. Van Dyke Performance Space at the Greensboro Cultural Center, 200 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: choralartscollective.com/events. WRAPPED IN BRASS. 3:00 p.m. The North Carolina Brass Band plays hits of the holidays. Tickets: $5+. UNCG Auditorium, 408 Tate St., Greensboro. Info: ncbrassband.org. OPEN HOUSE & MARKET. Noon–6 p.m. Enjoy live music, food trucks, demonstrations, family-friendly activities, class sign-up specials and guided tours while perusing handmade wares crafted by local artisans. Free, proceeds of Forgemade ornaments benefit the organization. Forge Greensboro, 219 W. Lewis St., Greensboro. Info: forgegreensboro.org.
December 03 MADE 4 THE HOLIDAYS. 11 a.m.–4 p.m. Shop a juried marketplace of local artisans. Greensboro Farmers Curb Market, 501 Yanceyville St., Greensboro. Info: facebook.com/gsofarmersmkt. LESSONS AND CAROLS. 7–8:45 p.m. Greensboro College presents its annual festival, including a candlelit Advent service. Free. The Hannah Brown Finch Memorial Chapel, College Place, Greensboro. Info: greensboro.edu/ academics/arts/performance-calendar.
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
December 07–10, 14–17 A LOCAL CAROL. New York Times bestselling author and Winston-Salem native Charlie Lovett premieres his stage adaptation of A Christmas Carol. Tickets: $13.50+. Reynolds Place, 251 N. Spruce St., Winston-Salem. Info: ltofws.org.
December 07–10 NUTCRACKER. Times vary. UNCSA students dance the classic holiday ballet. Tickets: $31+. Steven Tanger Center, 300 N. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: uncsa.edu/ performances/index.aspx.
Gingerbread Display 12.05‒12.31.2023 COMMUNITY SINGALONG. 4 p.m. Free. Gather at This CommUnity Sings to share in heartfelt renditions of holiday classics. Carolina Theatre, 310 S. Greene St., Greensboro. Info: carolinatheatre.com/events.
December 05–31 GINGERBREAD DISPLAY. Before the cookies crumble, walk through a neighborhood of gingerbread houses to view and vote on creations designed and built by local teams, organizations and individuals, with all proceeds going to the Salvation Army. Free to view, vote by making a kettle donation. Grandover Resort & Spa Lobby, 1000 Club Road, Greensboro. Info: facebook.com/events/1372713553347395.
December 06, 13, 20 FAMILY NIGHT. 5–7 p.m. Enjoy an artdriven evening with family and friends in the studios. Free. GreenHill Center for NC Art, 200 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: greenhillnc.org/events.
December 06 READING THE WORLD. 7–8 p.m. Discover contemporary authors’ works in translation, such as this month’s selection, Spilt Milk. Free. Scuppernong Books, 304 S. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: scuppernongbooks.com/event.
December 07 LAUREN DAIGLE. 7:30 p.m. The Grammy-winning Christian-pop singer delivers an evening of moving and powerful vocals. Tickets: $38.50+. Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com/events. BOOZE & VINYL CHRISTMAS. 6–8:30 p.m. Greensboro Bound and the Greensboro Public Library host André Darlington for a night of “Merry Musicand-Drink Pairings to Celebrate the Season!” Tickets: $40. Double Oaks, 204 N. Mendenhall St. Greensboro. Info: greensborobound.com/events.
December 08–17 IMMERSIVE HOLIDAY BAR. Little Brother Brewing transforms into “Little Saint Nick,” an immersive holiday popup experience featuring floor-to-ceiling holiday decorations, themed cocktails, snacks and beer. Tickets: $20, ages 21+ only. Little Brother Brewing, 106 W. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: littlebrotherbrew.com/saintnick.
December 08–10 A CHRISTMAS CAROL: THE MUSICAL. Times vary. High Point Community Theatre presents a musical retelling of Charles Dickens’ holiday classic. Tickets: $22+. High Point Theatre, 220 E. Commerce Ave., High Point. Info: highpointtheatre.com/events.
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december calendar SANTACON BAR CRAWL. 3–9 p.m. Dress in a festive costume or ugly sweater to bar hop through downtown. Tickets $15+. Boxcar Bar + Arcade, 120 W. Lewis St., Greensboro. Info: tickettailor.com/ events/otisandwawa/816673/r/dgi.
High Point Ballet 12.15‒12.17.2023 December 08 & 10 HARMONIOUS HOLIDAYS. 8 p.m., 4 p.m. The Choral Arts Collective featuring three local choirs brings glad tidings through song. Tickets: $5+. Christ United Methodist Church, 410 N. Holden Road. Info: choralartscollective.com/events.
December 09–10, 16–17 NUTCRACKER. Times vary. The Greensboro Ballet presents its annual production of the classic holiday ballet. Tickets: $20+. Carolina Theatre, 310 S. Greene St., Greensboro. Info: greensboroballet.org/the-nutcracker.
December 09–10 TEA WITH CLARA. Times vary. Complete your Greensboro Ballet Nutcracker experience by sipping tea or punch, munching on treats, grabbing a goody bag and posing for pics with the one-and-only Clara. Tickets: $30. Renaissance Room at the Carolina Theatre, 310 S. Greene St., Greensboro. Info: greensboroballet.org/tea-with-clara.
December 09 JINGLE JOG. 1 p.m. Run in the annual 5K or shorter fun run through Downtown Greensboro. Start at 117 W. Lewis St., Greensboro. Info: runsignup.com/Race/NC/Greensboro/ DowntownJingleJog5K.
88 O.Henry
CONCERT BAND. 7:30 p.m. Greensboro Concert Band performs a world premiere as well as works by Gershwin and Grainger. Free, donations accepted. Dana Auditorium at Guilford College, 710 Levi Coffin Drive, Greensboro. Info: creativegreensboro.com. CONCERT FOR THE KIDS. 7 p.m. Celebrated country artist Chris Young performs with Conner Smith to benefit St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. Tickets: $25+. Piedmont Hall, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com/events.
December 10
dio of artists. Free. GreenHill Center for NC Art, 200 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: greenhillnc.org.
December 14–15 AMAHL AND THE NIGHT VISITORS. 7:30 p.m. Witness a miracle as a crippled shepherd offers his crutch to the three wise men as a present to the Christ child in Gian Carlo Menotti’s opera — in English. Tickets: $12+. UNCG Auditorium 408 Tate St., Greensboro. Info: carolinatheatre.com/events.
December 15–17 HIGH POINT BALLET. Times vary. Enjoy The Nutcracker or the designedfor-kids version, The Land of the Sweets. Tickets: $25+. High Point Theatre, 220 E. Commerce Ave., High Point. Info: highpointtheatre.com/events.
December 15-16
BRAKE FOR ANTIQUES. 2–4 p.m. Live music by Gary Woodar, light refreshments and selfies with Santa evoke a merry antique market shopping experience. Free. Antique Market Place, 6428 Burnt Poplar Road, Greensboro. Info: triadantiques.com.
ELF IN CONCERT. Times vary. Watch the comedic holiday film as the Greensboro Symphony plays the score. Tickets: $50+. Steven Tanger Center, 300 N. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: greensborosymphony.org/events/list.
December 11–14, 18–22
December 15
HOLIDAY MOVIES. Times vary. From classics including White Christman and It’s a Wonderful Life to not-so-old hits such as Elf and Die Hard, enjoy an array of holiday films. Tickets: $8. Carolina Theatre, 310 S. Greene St., Greensboro. Info: carolinatheatre.com/events.
December 11 GOSPEL HOLIDAY FEST. 7 p.m. Two of Southern Gospel’s most popular groups, Ernie Haase & Signature Sound and The Hoppers bring holiday music to life while former pastor-comedian Mickey Bell serves as emcee. Tickets: $30+. High Point Theatre, 220 E. Commerce Ave., High Point. Info: highpointtheatre.com/events.
December 13 BEJEWELED. 6–8 p.m. The Shop at GreenHill showcases jewelry from its stu-
JAZZY SOUL CHRISTMAS. 7 p.m. Vocalist Rhonda Thomas belts out tunes while Kyle Turner plays saxophone and Ivey Ghee serves as emcee. Tickets: $42+. Historical Magnolia House, 442 Gorrell St., Greensboro. Info: thehistoricmagnoliahouse.org/ upcoming-events-greensboro-nc.
December 16 THE CHRISTMAS SHOES. 1:30 & 6 p.m. Royal Expressions School of Dance presents its annual holiday ballet featuring favorite seasonal tunes and a timely message about the gift of love, laughter and family. Tickets: $12.75+. Dana Auditorium, 710 Levi Coffin Drive, Greensboro. Info: tinyurl.com/reboxoffice. RUNNING OF THE BALLS. 6 p.m. “The Greatest 5K(ish) in the History of the World” runs or walks beneath the glittering globes illuminating Sunset The Art & Soul of Greensboro
december calendar Hills. Registration: $55; youth, $26. Start at the intersection of Rolling Road and the Sunset Hills Greenway, Greensboro. Info: therunningoftheballs.com. WILL MCBRIDE GROUP. 7:30 p.m. Two bands, the Will McBride Group and Tea Cup Gin, take the stage for a night of blues, rock, funk and jazz. Tickets: $18. In the Crown at the Carolina Theatre, 310 S. Greene St., Greensboro. Info: carolinatheatre.com/events. KEVIN GATES. 8 p.m. Catch he inimitable rapper known for his impactful lyrics and beats. Tickets: $41.50. Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com/events.
December 17 CHRISTMAS IN THE CROWN. 7 p.m. Cap off your Christmas season with the swing, playfulness and humor of Chad
Eby and Ariel Pocock. Tickets: $15. In the Crown at the Carolina Theatre, 310 S. Greene St., Greensboro. Info: carolinatheatre.com/events.
9 p.m. Catch a soulful and funky holiday music show unlike any other. Tickets: $15+. Flat Iron, 221 Summit Ave., Greensboro. Info: flatirongso.com/events.
December 18
December 29
ROMANCE BOOK CLUB. 7–8 p.m. Forget Hallmark movies — snuggle up with The Matzah Ball before joining the discussion. Free. Scuppernong Books, 304 S. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: scuppernongbooks.com/event.
DRAG QUEEN CHRISTMAS. 8 p.m. Miz Cracker and your favorite queens perform in America’s longest-running drag show. Tickets: $80+. Steven Tanger Center, 300 N. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: tangercenter.com/events.
December 21–22
December 31
HOLIDAY JAM. 8:30 p.m. Hobex and The Finns perform two different sets each night, featuring a cast of guests. Tickets: $20+. Flat Iron, 221 Summit Ave., Greensboro. Info: flatirongso.com/events.
December 23 SAM FRIBUSH ORGAN TRIO.
CRESCENDO INTO MIDNIGHT. Stay overnight to celebrate New Year’s Eve with a jazz escape featuring champagne and truffles, a three-course meal, live music from the Steve Haines Quintet, a midnight toast and more luxuries to ring in 2024. Grandover Resort & Spa, 1000 Club Road, Greensboro. Info: facebook. com/events/298830969551900. OH
The Arts
Join us for a special book event with wine and desert!
Lust, revenge, deception & a wedding It’s amazing what you can do in a day.
SCUPPERNONG BOOKS THURSDAY, JANUARY 11 AT 7 PM
Professional opera Comes to High Point! Piedmont opera invites you to the wedding of the year!
The Marriage of Figaro Mozart's
The High Point Theatre | March 22 and 24, 2024 Piedmontopera.org or 336.725.7101
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Katherine Snow Smith will be in-conversation with O.Henry Magazine’s Cassie Bustamante and Jim Dodson about her new memoir, Stepping on the Blender & Other Times Life Gets Messy. Journalist Katherine Snow Smith returned to her native North Carolina after her last child left the nest and a 24-year marriage ended. With more baggage and less time on the clock, she thought of fellow Tar Heel Thomas Wolfe’s book: You Can’t Go Home Again. She writes with vulnerability and humor about forging an unexpected path, parenting, dating, reporting, aging, loss and launching the next act in a full life. Oh yeah, she stepped on a blender minutes before leaving Florida for this latest chapter. Sometimes you just have to prop your bloody foot on the dashboard and put it in drive.
The event is co-sponsored by Tyler Redhead & McAlister’s Susan Boydoh and Hilburn Michael.
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The Arts
Jewel: Four-time Grammy-nominated singer-songwriter, actress, and author; Lalla Essaydi: Moroccan photographer known for her staged images of Arab women in contemporary art; Garth Fagan Dance: an internationally acclaimed contemporary American dance company led by The Lion King choreographer Garth Fagan; and Tim Warfield: Tenor saxophonist whose soulful, swaggering style is taking the jazz world by storm.
C.P. LOGAN
SOURCE OF THE SEINE • 30” X 40” • ORIGINAL OIL
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Tickets at ucls.uncg.edu 90 O.Henry
www. CPLogan.com The Art & Soul of Greensboro
The Arts
EMBRACE YOUR CREATIVE HOLIDAY SPIRIT! VISIT THEACGG.ORG • FIND your next arts adventure on our events calendar • EXLORE local arts organizations in our Arts Across Guilford Guide • LEARN how we invest in artists, art organizations, and the community • SUPPORT The ACGG in our work
NC BRASS
presents
GREAT COMMUNITIES DESERVE GREAT ART. TOGETHER, WE MAKE IT HAPPEN.
Amahl and the Night Visitors Menotti’s
High Point University December 6th - 7:30pm December 7th - 7:30pm
UNCG Auditorium
For Tickets and Additional Information visit GreensboroOpera.org/tickets
December 14th - 7:30pm December 15th - 7:30pm
Supported in part by the Randall Thomas Johnson Guest Artist Program Endowment
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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The Arts
FE FI FAUX INC
DOING WHAT OTHERS CAN’T
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Nutcracker at the historic
December 9 & 16 - 2pm & 7pm 10 & 17 - 3pm
Faux pine bookcase . Atlanta 2023.
612 JOYNER ST, GREENSBORO, NC
336-312-0099
Greensboro’s local holiday tradition for more than 40 years!
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92 O.Henry
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
The Arts
Give the gift of North Carolina art.
DECEMBER 3, 2023 FEBRUARY 17, 2024
SCAN FOR DETAILS OR VISIT GREENHILLNC.ORG
YEARS
Betsy Vaden. Belles of Ireland
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
O.Henry 93
Where would you like this tree? • A new home? • An apartment? • A condo? • A townhome
Let us help RealEstate by Wallette Call me 336-405-2635 RealEstateByWallette@gmail.com North Carolina LIC# 305407
Practicing Commercial Real Estate by the Golden Rule Bill Strickland, CCIM Commercial Real Estate Broker/REALTOR 336.369.5974 | bstrickland@bipinc.com
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Think of us as your new friend in the know! Bringing you the intel you need about happenings in and around Greensboro every Tuesday morning.
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
O.Henry 95
RETIREMENT PLANNING & SENIOR LIVING Consult these businesses for retirement planning or senior living choices Blue Denim Real Estate | BrightStar Medical Care • Medical Staffng Castle Estate Sales and Appraisals | FirstLight Home Care Fred Astaire Dance Studios | Holderness Investment Company Home Instead | O’Halloran Rehabilitation Piedmont Land Conservancy | Seabolt Upholstery Senior Resources of Guilford | Sports Medicine & Joint Replacement Twin Lakes Community | WellSpring | WhiteStone
If you want to keep an aging loved one safe at home, Home Instead® can help.
Services : • Personal Care • Companionship • Meal Prep • Transportation
• Hospice Support • Memory Care • Chronic Conditions Support
Call for a free, no-obligation appointment: (336) 294-0081 For more information, visit HomeInstead.com/311 Each Home Instead® franchise office is independently owned and operated.© 2022 Home Instead, Inc.
96 O.Henry
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Retirement That’s
Well•Rounded Well•Spring has everything you need for a healthy retirement. From facilities to amenities you’ll find your best life here.
“I love the carefree living at Well•Spring – everything runs seamlessly and is taken care of so I can spend my time doing what I love.” – Dot Sowerby, Well•Spring resident and former Olympic champion
Everything You Need is Here
Dining At Its Finest
Tons of Ways to Stay Active
• State-of-the-Art Theatre • Woodworking & Hobby Shop • Community Gardens • Art Studios
• Casual & Fine Dining Options • World-Class Cuisine • Seasonal Menus • Cocktail Bar & Sports Lounge
• Aquatic and Fitness Center • Trainer on Staff • Putting Green & Dog Park • Miles of Walking Trails
At Well•Spring, you’ll find an active and engaging life, full of opportunities for growth and learning.
TAKE A TOUR TODAY! | 336.579.5600 | GREENSBORO, NC | WELL-SPRING.ORG The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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Retirement Planning & Senior Living
Dance
Give the Gift of
THIS HOLIDAY SEASON Give the Gift of Joy, Confidence, Community, Improved Health and much more
No Partner Required
fredastaire.com/greensboro
G I F T
98 O.Henry
P A C K A G E S
A V A I LThe Art A& Soul B of Greensboro L E
Retirement Planning & Senior Living
Life is better at home.
BrightStar Care provides the assistance you need, to stay in the place you love…providing premium and affordable companion care, personal care and skilled nursing throughout Guilford and Forsyth County. WE CALL IT ‘A HIGHER STANDARD’
• • • •
Your loved one’s care is supervised by a Registered Nurse. Having a nurse on your side can make a big difference as needs change. Whether they just need someone checking in a few times a week or round-the-clock care, we can help. Someone is here for you 24/7. We’ll provide a plan of care tailored around your loved one’s needs with our Registered Nurse conducting regular supervisory visits. We offer companion and personal care, including bathing, meal prep, medication reminders, mobility assistance and more.
Contact us today at 336-265-3500 Providing premium and affordable companion care, personal care and skilled nursing throughout the Triad. Independently owned and operated
508-A Prescott St., Greensboro NC 27401 336-265-3500 | www.brightstarcare.com/s-greensboro
We’ve earned The Joint Commission Gold Seal of Approval® which validates that we follow the highest standards of safety and care.
Retirement Planning & Senior Living
Enjoy today. Secure tomorrow. A gift you’ll treasure all year round. Make this holiday season a time of new beginnings. At WhiteStone, you’ll find the active retirement lifestyle you want today with the security of on-site health care services should your needs ever change. Give yourself and your family the gift of peace of mind.
Call us today at 336-652-3415 to schedule your personal appointment. 700 S. Holden Road Greensboro, NC 27407 liveatwhitestone.org
Working together to
Protect the nature of the Piedmont. 30,000 ACRES PROTECTED AND COUNTING.
Learn more at www.PiedmontLand.org
Protecting Clean Water | Special Natural Areas | Family Farms | Trails & Preserves 100 O.Henry
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Retirement Planning & Senior Living
Twin Lakes Community is a neighborhood where longtime friends are as important as longterm care. Where independence is treasured. And where the transition isn’t about what you give up, but what you’ve gained. You’ll discover we’re more than a Continuing Care Retirement Community. Twin Lakes is a place where you can live life how it matters to you.
No matter what the weather, the relationships are warm. And friendly.
A division of Lutheran Retirement Ministries of Alamance County, North Carolina
BURLINGTON NC 336 -538 -1 50 0 The Art & Soul of Greensboro
t winlakescomm.org O.Henry 101
Retirement Planning & Senior Living
We are confidants bathing helpers peace of mind listeners freedom hope { caregivers }. FirstLight Home Care is proud to provide older adults the freedom to age gracefully in the place they call home.
Learn more today. Guilford Location 336-808-1351
Guilford.FirstLightHomeCare.com
102 O.Henry
Jacksonville, NC Location 910-939-0695
Jacksonville.FirstLightHomeCare.com
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Retirement Planning & Senior Living
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
O.Henry 103
Retirement Planning & Senior Living
HappyHolidays As we approach the holiday season, please consider donating to Senior Resources of Guilford. Your generous gift, no matter the size, will have a significant impact on the lives of our senior neighbors here in Guilford County. To make a donation, there are multiple convenient options available. You can simply scan the QR code provided or visit our website at https://www.senior-resources-guilford.org/ to make an online donation. If you prefer to donate by cash or check, you can mail it to the following address:
Senior Resources of Guilford PO BOX 21993 • Greensboro, NC 27420
1401 Benjamin Parkway • Greensboro, NC 27408 336-373-4816 Fax: 336-373-4922 921 Eastchester Drive, Ste 1230 • High Point, NC 27260 336-883-3586 Fax: 336-883-3179
www.senior-resources-guilford.org 104 O.Henry
Serving older adults since 1977
Senior Resources of Guilford is a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization eligible to receive tax deductible donations. Your support enables the agency to respond to requests for information and services that will assist seniors to continue to live independently..
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Retirement Planning & Senior Living
Our Team practices at the
HIGHEST LEVEL of their Profession EVERYDAY Evidenced Based Rehab Combining Manual Therapy and Corrective Exercise
Superb Patient Education One on One Care Every Visit Come See Us for all your Orthopedic and Sports Rehab Needs!!
336-478-9626
KNEE PA I N ?
Cartilage Restoration Ligament Reconstruction Outpatient Joint Replacement Partial & Total Knee Replacements
STEVE LUCEY, M.D. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
200 W. Wendover Avenue • Greensboro, NC 223 W. Ward St. • Suite B • Asheboro, NC 336.333.6443 • www.SMJRortho.com
O.Henry 105
Retirement Planning & Senior Living
DREAMING OF THE RIGHT SIZE HOME...
MARK & KIM LITTRELL REALTOR®, Brokers, Owners 336-210-1780 BlueDenimRealEstate.com info@bluedenimre.com Locally owned and operated
GreenScene National Dance Day: Fred Astaire Dance Studio LeBauer Park Saturday, September 16, 2023 Photographs by Scheib Creative
GreenScene Piedmont Opera’s Il Trovatore Opening Night Stevens Center Friday, October 20, 2023 Brienne Neville
Anita & Walter Taylor
Monique Farrell, Robertson Blairington
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Photographs Courtesy of Piedmont Opera
Ashley Rusher, Vicky Auchincloss
Patty Brown, Nancy Pleasants
Ricky & Christie Touchstone, Bruce & Lara Patterson
Nia Imani Franklin and guest
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1451 S Elm-Eugene St, Greensboro, NC 27406 336.379.5001 www.nussbaumcfe.com Established 1987
MISSION STATEMENT
WHO WE SERVE
Turning Entrepreneurs Into Business Owners
The Nussbaum Center for Entrepreneurship is the largest small-business incubator in North Carolina; with a 37-year history of helping area entrepreneurs and small business owners develop their business concepts into successful and sustainable companies. We offer scalable and modestly priced space, shared support facilities and services, along with business and technical assistance through a network of ten in-house partners.
HOW TO VOLUNTEER We utilize SCORE volunteers to assist our Associates and entrepreneurs. To volunteer go to https://www.score.org/volunteer.
HOW TO DONATE Donations can be made through our website. https://nussbaumcfe.com/donate/
KEY FACTS: • 10 local, regional, state and federally funded Entrepreneur Support Organizations (ESO) located in-house to assist local start ups and businesses. • Full time Case Manager to coordinate wrap around services for business support and mentoring specific to the needs of Entrepreneurs. • New shared use commercial kitchen opening 2024. • The Steelhouse Center for Urban Manufacturing and Innovation opening 2024.
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108 O.Henry
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
GreenScene
O’Brien Art Gallery Grand Reopening 715 N. Eugene St. Friday, October 6, 2023 Heather Crittenden, Charly Roper
Artist Adden Doss
Anne Beavan, Margaret Goodwin
Photographs by Sam Froelich
Clint & Stephanie Farabow
Veronica Sherbourne, Glenda & Toney Clark
Supporter & Gallery owner Kathy O’Brien
Marissa Hill Szafran & BJ Szafran
Lily Todino, Jess Dauray
MJ Humphrey, Barbara R. Davis
Bob & Janet Berry
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Katie Jo & Scott Icenhower
Linda & Vaughn Phipps
The Walton Brothers Band
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L AW N DA L E SH OP P ING CENTE R • IRVING PARK
DOVER SQUARE • WESTOVER GALLERY OF SHOPS
LADIES CLOTHING, GIFTS, BABY, JEWELRY, GIFTS FOR THE HOME, TABLEWARE, DELICIOUS FOOD
1738 Battleground Ave • Irving Park Plaza Shopping Center • Greensboro, NC • (336) 273-3566
110 O.Henry
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
GreenScene
Community Foundation of Greater Greensboro’s 40th Anniversary Celebration + Future Fund After Party Cadillac Service Garage Wednesday, October 11, 2023 Tyler & Elise Lee
Photographs by Ashleigh G. Crawley
Lisa & David Allen, Taylor Ghost
Emily Thompson, Susan Davis, Kenny Thompson
Claudia Reich, Ashlee Wiley Lewis
Mac Sims, Kathy & Fred Black
Linda Spitsen, Laura Way
Michael Godette, Ron & Victoria Milstein, Ivan Godette
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Kimberly & Danny Gatling, Ginger Gray
Raffi Simel, Marci Peace, Linda Spitsen, Alex Orischak, Andrew Westmoreland, Leigh Dyer
Marcia Soutto Mayor and Marcelo Alvarenga Guimaraes
Henry & Shirley Frye
Kelly Swanson, Cathy Knowles, Sally Maley
Jenny Kaiser, Rachel Pront
Kristen Magod, Caroline Magod, Lisa Johnson
Cheryl Stewart, Connie Leeper, Ann Flynt
Yvonne Johnson
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o.henry ending
The Man, the Myth, the Legendary Santa A Q&A with the real Kris Kringle This fall, as Santa prepped his
office space for another busy holiday season, he decided it was time for a new-tohim desk, something with an old-world vibe to suit his classic style. Turns out, Santa shops Facebook Marketplace and, as mutual luck would have it, scored the perfect leather-inlaid vintage desk here in Greensboro at the home of our founding editor, Jim Dodson, who put us in touch with the big guy. Since he wasn’t yet in a holly-jolly holi-craze, Santa took a moment to chat with us. We’re going to jump right into the burning questions that everyone wants to know: OH: Honestly, what holiday treat should we be leaving you on the hearth? S: I can’t pick out one! Chocolate chip cookies are an all-time favorite. Snickerdoodles are always good, too. OH: You need to stay in shape to be able to make it around the world so fast, up and down chimneys. What is your own workout regimen like? S: Ho, ho, ho, ho, besides milk and cookies? Well, I’m not your typical Santa Claus. Nowadays St. Nick is looking out for his health and well-being. I do vigorous training — cardiovascular, weight lifting — along with milk and cookies. OH: Favorite non-sweet meal? S: I’d have to say, going back to my German lineage, it would probably be Jaegerschnitzel. OH: Off season, what do you and Mrs. Claus like to do? S: We go to the beach. We were in Florida not too long ago. We try to go incognito. OH: What does your bathing suit look like? S: I just wear my regular red and white, suspenders every once in a while and my Hawaiian shirt. OH: When you drop coal in a stocking, do you feel sad or are you secretly snickering? S: See, there’s a bad rap about being given coal. Being given
112 O.Henry
coal is an opportunity to improve yourself. If you use coal and compress it, what does it become? OH: A diamond? S: Very good. So when we give an individual coal, we’re showing them, “You have potential to become better. Accept this coal in the spirit it was given because I see something better inside your heart.” OH: We’re going to move on to questions submitted by kids: “Does the Polar Express still exist and can I ride it? I lost my ticket.” S: Yes, the Polar Express does exist and you can ride on it. [Santa’s no slouch. He whipped out his snow-white iPhone 15-plus and shared this URL: raileventsinc.com/polar-express-train-ride/locations] OH: How did you get famous? S: Wow, I guess I can thank Coca-Cola for that back in the 1930s. OH: How do you make Christmas nightgowns? S: I leave that up to Mrs. Claus and all the lady elves. OH: How do the reindeer fly? S: Magic reindeer corn. OH: How is it that you never die? S: I have a son and I’m getting him ready. When I take my final sleigh ride then the Santa Claus job will be passed onto him. OH: Where do you store all the presents? S: We have them stored in different locations in different places. Just like Amazon, we have our hubs and locations. OH: Who are all the Santas at the stores? S: We have a brotherhood. There’s a worldwide Santa Claus network. There’s anywhere between 6,000 and 10,000 Santa Clauses worldwide that portray me and help me do my job. And we have conference calls and Zoom. There you have it. Santa’s a modern guy who uses social media, technology, distribution centers, works out, but still enjoys a classic chocolate chip cookie. Hitting the beach after the holidays? Keep your eyes peeled for a svelte, white-bearded man in red-andwhite swimming trunks. OH Got more questions? Visit mjsanta.com or find him on instagram @mj_santaclaus to set up your own Zoom session or in-person meeting. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
336-852-7107
We accept FSA and health savings cards
2222 Patterson St, Suite A, Greensboro, NC 27407 Serving the Triad’s eyewear needs for over 40 years
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