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Adams Farm 336 – 854 –1333 • Elm Street 336 –272– 0151 • Friendly Center 336 –370 – 4000 ©2017 BHH Affiliates, LLC. An independently operated subsidiary of HomeServices of America, Inc., a Berkshire Hathaway affiliate, and a franchisee of BHH Affiliates, LLC. Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices and the Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices symbol are registered service marks of HomeServices of America, Inc.® Equal Housing Opportunity.
KAYNE FISHER, 47, AND CHRIS LESTER, 49 FOUNDERS OF NATTY GREENE’S Natty Greene’s, the patriarch of Greensboro craft beer, is now as much a part of the fabric of Greensboro as its namesake, Nathanael Greene. But did you know the idea of Natty Greene’s first began “brewing” at UNCG in 1988 when Chris Lester, fraternity president, knocked on Kayne Fischer’s door to encourage him to join the fraternity. Chris and Kayne became fast friends, then roommates and eventually co-workers. While working as beer distributors they began to appreciate micro beers and their thoughts quickly turned to opening a bar of their own one day. “We believed in what we wanted to do. People were really beginning to understand craft beer. Greensboro grabbed a hold of this concept instantly.” Kayne and Chris were living their dream when the Greensboro Grasshoppers opened its downtown stadium in 2005 and asked Natty Greene’s to provide beer at the concessions. Since then, Natty Greene’s has seen its brand expand. It’s now sold throughout North Carolina and is in Virginia and South Carolina. Owning a successful bar and brew pub may sound like a dream to many and it is to Kayne and Chris, too. “We love doing our own thing. This is no hobby though, it’s our livelihood. We love craft beer, the food that goes with it, but most of all, we love seeing people smile and enjoy our product.” “I can’t imagine us doing this anywhere else. There’s no such thing as an overnight sensation, but we hope we’ve transitioned into a brand that Greensboro can be proud of.”
DANNY MACKEY, 36, SPAZ Most of Greensboro knows who Danny Mackey is. As a matter of fact, he is one of the most recognized people in Greensboro, especially during the summer months. But do you know him as Danny Mackey the talent agent? Part owner of the PorterHouse Burger Food Truck? Or by his alter ego, Spaz? Danny spends his summers with the Greensboro Grasshoppers at First National Bank Field entertaining the crowd as Spaz. This year will mark Danny’s 14th season with the Hoppers. “I love being involved with baseball and the Hoppers. It’s so much fun to meet different people in the stands – locals and those from out of town. It’s an honor to do that.” But Danny is much more than just Spaz. Danny is also a talent agent for Neon Entertainment and represents MTV’s Jersey Shore star, Nicole “Snooki” Polizzi, along with comedians, singers and more. “I love Greensboro. It’s a great home base for me and for my career.”
W
e are Greensboro, North Carolina. We are the city of makers. We design, build, create. We roll up our sleeves. We get our hands dirty. We get it done. We make it happen. Made in Greensboro celebrates those makers — the entrepreneurs, the artists, the community builders, the next generation of leaders. Made in Greensboro is an initiative of Action Greensboro and the City of Greensboro.
W W W . M A D E I N www.madeingso.com GSO.COM
Sold in 3 months by Katie Redhead this summer is going to be HOT!
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Augus t 2017
FEA TUR ES 51
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DEP ART 13 ME Simple NTS By Ji L ife mD o
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son Shor t S 21 torie s Life’s F By M u aria J nny 23 ohns on Omni v By D o r .G. M ous 27 artin Read Scup er pern 29 o ng B A Wri ooks By W ter’ helf iley C s Lif 32 e ash Gate C By M i aria J ty Jou rnal 39 ohns on Life of By Ja J ne B ane o rden
41 True So By S uth usan Cam 43 pbel l Birdwa t By S c h usan Cam 45 pbel l Wand e By B r i illy E ng B ye illy 70 Arts Cale 87 ndar Gree nSce 95 n Acciden e By A strid tal Ast rol Stel 96 O.Hen lanova oger By B ailey ry End Jorda ing n
Cover Photograph by Mark Wagoner. Shannon Magann Johnson enjoys an afternoon of reading at the K athleen Clay Edwards Family Branch of the Greensboro Public Library at 1420 Price Park Road. The library is located in the 98 acre Price Park which features ponds, walking trails, meadows and a reading garden.
6 O.Henry
August 2017
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Fine Eyewear, Artwork and Jewelry 327 South Elm | Greensboro 336.274.1278 | TheViewOnElm.com Becky Causey, Licensed Optician Find us on Facebook
Are you a candidate for a partial knee replacement? Not every arthritic knee needs a total knee replacement
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Dr. Olin specializes in anterior hip replacement surgery, partial & total knee replacement surgery, in addition to revision hip & knee replacement surgery.
M A G A Z I N E
Volume 7, No. 8 “I have a fancy that every city has a voice.” 336.617.0090 1848 Banking Street, Greensboro, NC 27408 www.ohenrymag.com Jim Dodson, Editor • jim@thepilot.com Andie Stuart Rose, Art Director • andie@thepilot.com Nancy Oakley, Senior Editor • nancy@ohenrymag.com Lauren M. Coffey, Graphic Designer Alyssa Rocherolle, Graphic Designer CONTRIBUTING EDITORS
Cynthia Adams, David Claude Bailey, Harry Blair, Maria Johnson CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS
Lynn Donovan, Amy Freeman, Sam Froelich, John Gessner, Bert VanderVeen, Mark Wagoner CONTRIBUTORS
Ash Alder, Jane Borden, Grant Britt, Susan Campbell, Wiley Cash, Clyde Edgerton, Billy Eye, Ross Howell Jr., Billy Ingram, Sara King, Susan Kelly, Brian Lampkin, D.G. Martin, Meridith Martens, Ogi Overman, Romey Petite, Stephen Smith, Astrid Stellanova
O.H
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David Woronoff ADVERTISING SALES
Ginny Trigg, Advertising Director 910.691.8293, ginny@thepilot.com Hattie Aderholdt, Advertising Manager 336.601.1188, hattie@ohenrymag.com
Scan to watch an interactive video of a partial knee replacement.
Lisa Bobbitt, Advertising Assistant 336.617.0090, ohenryadvertising@thepilot.com Brad Beard, Graphic Designer Lisa Allen, 336.210.6921 • lisa@ohenrymag.com Amy Grove, 336.456.0827 • amy@ohenrymag.com Jaime Wortman, 336.707.3461 • jaime@ohenrymag.com CIRCULATION
Darlene Stark, Circulation Director 910.693.2488 SUBSCRIPTIONS
336.617.0090
©Copyright 2017. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission is prohibited. O.Henry Magazine is published by The Pilot LLC
For more information about Dr. Olin and surgery visit www.GreensboroOrthopaedics.com
8 O.Henry
August 2017
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Homes from the mid $200’s - high $300’s 1 & 2 story homes from 2,100 - 3,800 sq ft Pool & Playground Two Decorated Models 802 Sugarberry Ln Greensboro 27455 336.482.0076 | summerhill-nc@sheahomes.com
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Sales: Shea Group Services, LLC DBA Shea Realty (C21630). Construction: Shea Builders, LLC, 68875. This is not an offer of real estate for sale, or a solicitation of an offer to buy, to residents of any state or province in which registration and other legal requirements have not been fullled. Pricing does not include options, elevation, or lot premiums, effective date of publication and subject to change without notice. All square footages and measurements are approximate and subject to change without notice. Trademarks are property of their respective owners. Equal Housing Opportunity. Home pictured may not be actual home for sale or actual model home, but rather a representation of a similar model or elevation design. Photos depict designer features, optional items and other upgrades that may be available from Seller at additional cost. Furniture not included or available for purchase (even upon the payment of an additional charge).
Here, women are moms or daughters first. And patients second.
When the specialists who treat you live in your community, they understand who you are and the many roles you fill. Our local experts have dedicated their lives to providing quality, compassionate care and fast, accurate results. So whether it’s a mammogram, MRI or an ultrasound that your doctor recommends, make the right choice for you. Request The Breast Center of Greensboro Imaging—the premier center for breast health in the Triad. greensboroimaging.com • 336.433.5000
Simple Life
Notes From a Firefly Summer A message from tiny lights shining in the darkness
By Jim Dodson
Early one morning back in late
June — the eve of the summer solstice, as it happened — while I was making coffee in the kitchen before sunrise, I heard a small sound of an animal in distress. I stepped out to our carport and found a baby rabbit lying on his back, his feet lightly kicking, as he looked up at me.
I gently scooped up the little fella, wondering how he’d gotten into such a fix. But then it came to me. He’d been brought home by one Boo Radley, our young tiger cat who was at present missing his collar and bell. This explained everything. Wearing his bell, Boo Radley is a fairly harmless dude on the prowl. Without it, a feline serial killer and menace to small creatures everywhere. He’d been roaming free for a full week without his collar and bell, which also explained the dead yellow finch I’d found on the stone path beneath the feeder out back and buried in the primroses. Fortunately the tiny rabbit’s injuries appeared slight. As I carried him across the street to a wild area in my neighbor’s yard where lots of rabbits congregate in the evening, I thought about a couple of books about rabbits that helped to shape my view of life. The first was Beatrix Potter’s The Tale of Peter Rabbit, which I still own a copy of, given to me by my mother at a very early age, along with Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows. These were the first two chapter books I’d read during the solitary summer days in the small Southern town where my father worked for the newspaper. Before I set him down in the tall grass, I gently massaged the baby rabbit between the ears and gave him the only line from Peter Rabbit that I could recall: “Maybe your mother will put you to bed with some chamomile tea.” Our neighborhood, which is old and heavily forested, teems with rabbits. We see them in groups on our early morning and evening walks with the dogs. I joke that we actually live in Bunnyland, a vast empire of tunnels and warrens where these small brown herbivores who are either considered a nuisance by gardeners or a sign of ecological harmony by tree huggers — and I am both things, by the way — reside in a world of their own, coming out at the corners of the day to munch on clover and grass and any fool’s unfenced veggie patch. Most are so tame you can walk within a few feet of them. I freely admit having a soft spot for rabbits, probably because of Peter Rabbit but also because the first living creature I intentionally killed was a The Art & Soul of Greensboro
rabbit, which I shot one cold afternoon while hunting with my father on Henry Tucker’s farm in the hills west of town. I was 12 or 13. It was late on New Year’s Day. The rabbit stood up as we approached across the stubble of a harvested cornfield, erect as a Presbyterian elder. It was my first hunt. Several young rabbits scampered away in terror but the old rabbit stood his ground on his haunches watching us approach. I leveled my 20-gauge and pulled the trigger without a second thought. My dad made me take the rabbit home to skin and cook, pointing out his belief that it would be a crime not to honor the rabbit’s life by wasting his flesh. I ate as much of it as I could bear, thinking how, just hours before, this handsome elder of the rabbit race had been out for his last New Year’s walk. Off and on, I dreamed about that rabbit for years. And I never hunted again. But I soon learned much more about guns and the brevity of life. When I was 21, my girlfriend was murdered by a 15-year-old kid with a handgun during a botched robbery of a country club in the mountains. Within a few years I was a staffer for the biggest news magazine in the South, covering Atlanta’s record crime wave, interviewing grieving families and coaching a mixedrace baseball team in a city where someone was killing young black kids and tossing their bodies into the Chattahoochee River. The kids on my team and their parents were terrified that they might be next, which is why I drove them home to the federal housing project after practices and games. During this dark passage of life, I also covered victims of a shooting war on the Texas border with Mexico for a national church magazine, went undercover at a notorious Tennessee game preserve, interviewed convicted murderers, rode with homicide cops, traveled with armed Klansmen and watched a dozen autopsies. One hot August night while walking my dog down our leafy and quiet street in Midtown, I even saw my neighbor shot dead on his porch during a late-night robbery. He was an Emory med student whose promising life went out like a porch light. He died as his hysterical girlfriend and I waited August 2017
O.Henry 13
Simple Life
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for the emergency medical technicians to arrive. Somewhere about that time, I read Richard Adams’s leporine masterpiece Watership Down and decided I’d had enough killing. Days after I turned 30, I pulled up stakes and moved to the banks of a green river in southern Vermont where I rented a small cabin heated by firewood that I split by hand. There, I taught myself to fly fish, procured a pup from the local Humane Society, resumed playing golf and read every book I’d ever meant to read including Watership Down for a second — maybe even a third — time. It became my favorite book. On summer evenings in the wildflower meadow just outside my cabin door, I’d sit until well after dark watching fireflies dance and rabbits feed. Sometimes the rabbits came right up to my doorstep. Amos the dog was fascinated by them but trained not to give chase. Some grew so unafraid of us they hopped right up to him. I think they thought he might be one very big rabbit. Years later, when I kept a large flower garden on a hilltop in Maine, I made a silent deal with the rabbits and white-tailed deer that inhabited our forest keep. I planted them a summer garden near a vernal spring at the back of our property, where they fed contentedly through the summer and into the fall. In winter, I trudged out under an Arctic moon to dump 50-pound bags of sorghum on the summer feeding spot. I even made up a fanciful tale about a couple of bumbling black bears called Pete and Charlie who dined in our “Animal Garden,” a tale both my now-grown children vividly recall. Pete and Charlie were part of all our lives, and probably will be for a long time. Magically — or by random luck — the deer and rabbits never ate my Volkswagen-sized hostas or other tender bedding plants. Ours really was a Peaceable Kingdom. So what do you suppose is a firefly’s true purpose in this world? My grandmother, Beatrice Taylor, used to say “lightning bugs” were simply God’s way of reminding us of how brief one’s light shines in this world. She refused to let my brother and me collect them in a jar, citing their fragile dance with mortality. My own belief is that fireflies are in this world simply to delight and make us pause in a darkening landscape, and remember what childhood felt like, inspiring a true sense of awe over a bug that serenely lights up as it goes its way through the uncertain night. What a living metaphor for how to live your own life. Whatever else can be said of this firefly summer, regardless of a world beyond the neighborhood and childhood imagination that forever appears to be in danger of coming apart at the seams, it’s been a bountiful season of bunnies and fireflies in our neck of the woods — and kids playing in the dark, too. The other evening we passed a group of a dozen youngsters of various sizes — toddlers to young teens — joyfully playing a game my wife and I both loved to play in the long summer dusks of our childhoods. My Southern neighborhood gang called it “Red light, Green Light,” my wife’s Yankee crowd, “Statue.” The name changes but not the basic idea. These kids called their updated version “Night at the Museum.” As a central figure shuts eyes and counts out loud, the players attempt to advance “home” without being seen moving when the count is up and the leader’s eyes suddenly open. Players must freeze like rabbits or statues on the lawn. As we watched, a tiny barefoot girl was the first to reach “home”, gleefully slapping hands with the older kids. Just then we heard a mother’s voice calling to her children, another welcome echo of American childhood. Somewhere in the darkness, young Boo Radley was on the prowl again, a world made safer by his new collar and bell. OH Contact Editor Jim Dodson at jim@thepilot.com.
14 O.Henry
August 2017
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
CONCIERGEAUCTIONS.COM | 212.257.5016
AUCTION AUGUST 29TH 11+ GATED ACRE ESTATE IN THE HEART OF THE TRIAD
John-Mark Mitchell
Previously $2.1M | Selling Without Reserve 1785 Slate Acres Dr, Kernersville, North Carolina
MITCHELL PRIME PROPERTIES | c 336.682.2552 | o 336.722.9911 | JOHNMARK@GOMITCH.COM
This property is listed for sale by John-Mark Mitchell of Mitchell Prime Properties (#189940) - 514 S Stratford Road, Suite 200, Winston-Salem, NC 27103 (336) 722-9911. Concierge Auctions, LLC is a licensed auction firm (NCAL #9427). Auctioneer activities will be conducted by Auctioneer Frank Trunzo (NCAL #9167). The services referred to herein are not available to residents of any state where prohibited by applicable state law. Concierge Auctions, LLC, its agents and affiliates, broker partners, auctioneer, and sellers do not warrant or guaranty the accuracy or completeness of any information and shall have no liability for errors or omissions or inaccuracies under any circumstances in this or any other property listings or advertising, promotional or publicity statements and materials. This is not meant as a solicitation for listings. Brokers are protected and encouraged to participate. Equal Housing Opportunity. See Auction Terms and Conditions for full details.
His most impressive display of strength is the lifting of others’ spirits. Just ask his oncologist. Brad Sherrill, MD, a medical oncologist at the Cone Health Cancer Center, sees many courageous cancer patients in the course of a day. What he saw in Chris Ganser, a 34-yearold man in peak physical condition fighting stage 4 colon cancer was simply inspirational. Dr. Sherrill believes that Chris’ mental and spiritual strength was as important in battling his disease as were his chemotherapy treatments. And now Chris unselfishly shares his experience to encourage others to overcome their own personal battles.
Learn more about never giving up at conehealth.com/stories E X C E P T I O N A L C A R E . E V E R Y D AY.™
Two days of learning, networking and industry collaboration for manufacturing professionals. ncmep.org/mfgcon
Save the Date We’re excited to announce the date and location of mfgCON 2017. The event will take place September 19–20 at the Benton Convention Center in WinstonSalem, NC. This year’s agenda will be packed with breakthrough moments and inspiring stories from peer organizations that can help you tackle your toughest manufacturing challenges.
Why Attend?
REGISTRATION IS OPEN Go to https://www.ncmep.org/ to register for mfgCON 2017!
The conference offers a specialized manufacturing curriculum with more than 24 highly curated sessions featuring expert speakers and real-world case studies from your fellow NCMEP colleagues, plus four keynote presentations.
What’s New? This year, we are adding a Meet-the-Experts program. Conference attendees can schedule and meet oneon-one with top NCMEP subject matter experts to discuss strategies/issues related to the manufacturing environment. Get access to the brains behind our solutions and services.
Curriculum This year’s tracks focus on solutions in four key areas: Talent Development, Emerging Technologies and Innovation, Leadership and Culture, and Business Growth.
JAMES ROSENQUIST, “TEN DAYS” (FROM THE PORTFOLIO “THE NEW YORK COLLECTION FOR STOCKHOLM”), 1973. WEATHERSPOON ART MUSEUM; GIFT OF MR. AND MRS. SAMUEL DORSKY, 1985.
Short Stories Tick Tock
Splat!
Gimme a “B”! Gimme an “L”! Gimme a “T”! And some mayo, salt and pepper, too, please. On August 12 from 9 a.m. to noon, the Greensboro Farmers Curb Market hosts the fourth annual Bacon, Lettuce & Tomato Challenge and Tomato Celebration. Who will take home the champion’s trophy? Blue Denim? Four Flocks and Larder? Last year’s winner, The Green Bean? Melt? Natty Greene’s, Traveled Farmer or Undercurrent? Watch the teams from each establishment, as they slice and dice on the corner of Lindsay and Yanceyville streets, while Carrie Paz and then Jerry Joplin deliver some live tunes and kids’ activities are held on the lawn. You, meanwhile, are encouraged to sample Sun Golds, Cherokee Purples, Juliets, Plums and more, and for $8 a plate, a quarter-sandwich from each competitor and a ballot to vote for your favorite. The monies benefit the curb market. Info: (336) 373-2402 or gsofarmersmarket.org.
What is time, exactly? The minute-hand of a clock methodically making its way from “1” to “12”? The realization that another year is more than half over? Is time money? Is it relative? We experience, as Charles Dickens wrote, “the best of times and the worst of times.” But how can one illustrate time? Leave it to artists to try as demonstrated in Weatherspoon’s new exhibition, For All Time: Interpretations of the Fourth Dimension from the Collection (500 Tate Street). The show starts on August 19 and runs through February 11, 2018 — unless you’re in a black hole or a parallel universe . . . . Info: weatherspoon.uncg.edu.
Views of Hughes
Quilt Thou Be Mine?
If you want to see some impressive handiwork and stitching, then head to the 2017 show of the Piedmont Quilters’ Guild of Greensboro (Girl Scout Learning Center, 8818 West Market Street, Colfax) on August 25 and 26. Titled Butterflies & Blossoms, the name of the quilt bearing butterfly motif that will be the prize in a raffle-ticket drawing later in the year, the juried show features traditional and contemporary works by the 60-odd members of the Guild. There will also be a silent auction benefiting the Alight Foundation. Other proceeds from the $5 admission will go to the Family Justice Center/Greensboro Police Department and Kids Path of Hospice and Palliative Care of Greensboro. Info: piedmontquilts.org.
18 O.Henry
August 2017
Meaning, Langston Hughes. Learn about the poet from a one-man play, Simply Langston!, written, directed by and starring Don Miller, who examines Hughes’s artistic life in four parts: the Harlem Renaissance, World War II and the Jim Crow Era, Communism After the War and Jesse B. Semple (a fictional character in a series of Hughes’s short stories). Miller will perform the play to the accompaniment of a four-piece jazz ensemble at 7 p.m. on August 18 at Scuppernong Books (304 South Elm Street), as one of the bookstore’s Year of James Baldwin events. Info: (336) 7631919 or scuppernongbooks.com.
Sun Screen
Everybody’s talking about it: The total eclipse of the sun on August 21. Why? Well, for the first time in almost a century, its path will sweep across the continental United States. That means most folks will be able to witness the rare astronomical event, in which the moon briefly covers the face of Old Sol. The far western counties of the Tar Heel state and Charleston, South Carolina, are the best places to watch the skies. Or you could catch a little – heh! – moonshine in Jamestown to see about 94 percent of the sun in shadow at GTCC’s Cline Observatory. Check its schedule at observatory.gcu.edu for any special viewing sessions, depending on the weather. For more information on the eclipse, visit eclipse2017.org. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Yo-Ho-Ho!
Skip the Dead Man’s Chest, but do celebrate National Rum Month, and on August 16, National Rum Day, at one of myriad places in the Gate City that serve up island-inspired refreshment. Lucky 32 (1420 Westover Terrace) mixes an Islamorada (Captain Morgan, Myers’s and Malibu rum, mixed with orange and pineapple in a Mason jar). Or maybe you’d prefer — Mmmmm! — L32’s Darker and Stormier, made with Goslings Black Seal Rum, bitters, Domaine de Canton, Blenheim “hot” ginger ale and lime on the rocks. On Gia’s menu of molecular cocktails (1941 New Garden Road, Suite 208) is a “deconstructed” Piña Colada, featuring Myers’s rum, agave nectar, coconut milk and a maraschino cherry. At LaRue Elm (403 North Elm Street), you can choose between a Thyme Well Spent (banana-lime rum, Jack Daniel’s, lime, honey and thyme) or a Starrfox, consisting of Starr rum, Copper Fox Rye, oleo, ginger shrub, lemon, brut, Havana & Hyde. Or you could pick up a bottle of your own at one of North Carolina’s distilleries: Sutler’s in Winston-Salem (sutlersspiritco. com) or Muddy River in Belmont (muddyriverdistillery.com). Here’s mud in your eye!
Links Hijinks
North Carolina’s oldest professional golf event is back! The Wyndham Championship gets cranking on August 14 with the Kevin Harvick Foundation Pro-Am and continues until the final round of play on August 20. So don your complimentary Hawaiian lei and and a pair of comfortable walking shoes, silence your cell phone and root for your favorite PGA players as they compete for the Sam Snead cup on the lovely, Donald Ross course at Sedgefield Country Club (3201 Forsyth Drive). Tickets and info: wyndhamchampionship.com.
Ogi Sez Ogi Overman General opinion has it that everything slows down in the summer, especially music venues and restaurants. Well, apparently the Carolina Theatre and several other local gathering spaces didn’t get the memo, for August is hotter — not only literally but figuratively — than practically any other month. So let’s have some “hot fun in the summertime.”
• August 4, White Oak
Amphitheatre: At first glance, “Yestival” didn’t make any sense. But digging deeper I discovered that this is a huge deal, featuring three of the biggest acts of the ’70s — Yes, Todd Rundgren and Carl Palmer’s (the surviving member of Emerson, Lake and Palmer) ELP Legacy Tour.
• August 5, 17 & 24, Carolina
Theatre: I’ve never done this before, but there is no way I could pick one of these shows and leave off the other two. In order of appearance, they are Graham Nash, Lyle Lovett and Buddy Guy. See what I mean? My advice would be to catch all three.
• August 11, BB&T Field on the
WFU campus: This may be the most perfectly named tour of all time. Take one guess: Who would do the Not In This Lifetime Tour? Who else could it be but . . . Guns N’ Roses? I know, I didn’t believe it, either.
Lilies of the Field
OK, so it’s a month away, but with Labor Day goings-on in early September, we thought it best to give an early heads-up about “Daylilies 101.” The lecture, encompassing all things related to the genus Hemerocallis, will be presented by David Dekort, who hybridized the cream-and-red cultivar “Thank Heaven for Little Girls” eight years ago. So come out to hear his pearls of wisdom on September 10 at 2 p.m. at the Triad Daylily Fans Garden Club (4301 Lawndale Drive), and while you’re there, pick up something for your garden at the organization’s plant sale — but toil not in the soil, at least not right away. Info: (336) 456-4509 or thegreensborocouncilofgardenclubs.com.
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
• August 15, High Point Theatre: Bet
you didn’t know that one of the members of Otis Day’s band, the Knights, was none other than the smoothest blues guitarist and vocalist on the planet, Robert Cray. But please don’t holler, “Wait ’til Otis sees us; he loves us!” Just don’t.
• August 19, Muddy Creek Music
Hall: Bluegrass buffs, keep your eye on this one. In the past year, The Trailblazers won the Best Band Competition at the Galax Old Time Fiddlers Convention and earned a main stage performance at MerleFest. These young’uns are on their way. August 2017
O.Henry 19
UNIVERSITY CONCERT AND LECTURE SERIES RODGERS & HAMMERSTEIN’S
South Pacific
in partnership with Triad Stage
Opens Sept. 17, 2017
Rhiannon Giddens UNCG Founders Day
8pm, Oct. 5, 2017 UNCG Auditorium
Photo: Tanya Rosen-Jones
The Juilliard String Quartet 8pm, Oct. 27, 2017 UNCG Auditorium Photo: Simon Powls
Limón Dance Company 8pm, Jan. 19, 2018 UNCG Auditorium
Dancer: Mark Willis
Colson Whitehead
Photo: Beatriz Schiller
Pulitzer Prize-Winning Author 125th Anniversary Lecture
8pm, Feb. 8, 2018 School of Music Recital Hall plus, introducing the 2017-18 UC/LS Artist-in-Residence:
Photo: Madeline Whitehead
Lynn Harrell, cellist
8pm, Mar. 17, 2018 School of Music Recital Hall
Season subscriptions and single tickets available NOW! for more information, visit:
ucls.uncg.edu
336.272.0160
Extra, Extra Read All About It
Life’s Funny
Cinema with a twist
By Maria Johnson
The text came shortly after 11 on a Friday night.
“Would you be up for being a yoga student extra in our film?” asked director Olivia Mungal. FYI, I’m usually not summoned at midnight for movie work the next morning but Olivia and her Greensboro-based colleagues at Layla Films Productions had graciously agreed to include me in their entry for this year’s 48 Hour Film Project, an annual event that starts with summertime competitions in cities around the world. Greensboro, Asheville and Charlotte host contests, which makes the Old North State look good because New York and California are the only other states with more than one 48HFP site. The potential rewards for artists are huge: Local champs take their short works – which run from four to seven minutes — to Filmapalooza, a festival that awards the winner a $5,000 prize and a screening at the Cannes Film Festival in France. No matter where 48HFP filmmakers live, the race to create a film in two days begins on a Friday night, when teams draw their genres and discover the three elements that every film must share: a character, line and prop. Earlier that Friday night, 32 teams had drawn a genre in Greensboro. Olivia’s team, know for its dark humor, had the choice of making a silent movie or a thriller/suspense film. They picked thriller/suspense. The required character was Sunny or Sonny Bowles, a yoga instructor. The necessary prop: a ribbon. The mandatory line: “How many times do I have to tell you?” A couple of hours after her initial text, as Olivia and the other writers pounded out a script for their flick, Swelter, she sent me the details: “Call time will be 8 a.m. at the Guilford Campus lake. One of our actors is a certified yoga instructor, so we’ll be having you do some real poses.” “Got it,” went my thumbs. “Eeeeeeek!” went my mind. A real yoga instructor meant real yoga, which meant my Achilles tendon might go SPROING! like the last time I was in a yoga class. It’s a little-talked-about dark side of middle-age womanhood: yoga injuries sustained in the quest for inner peace. I briefly considered hopping out of bed and stretching for a while, but decided I’d be better served by dreaming of greater flexibility. The next morning, I spent way too much time considering my yoga outfit and whether to tie my hair back or leave it down. Ordinarily, it would not be a question. I would tie it back. But this was pictures, baby. I left my hair down and sped toward Guilford College. It is hard for me to describe how my heart sank when I arrived to a lakeside that was completely devoid of humans. I called Olivia in a panic. “We’ll be there in a few minutes,” she said calmly. First lesson in moviemaking: Hurry up and wait. The actors and crew trickled in. They were a loose-knit group of The Art & Soul of Greensboro
friends, most in their 20s and 30s, who’d met through school or each other. At the hub of the wheel were Olivia, a UNCG grad who makes a living in digital marketing; UNCG alum Ellen Ross, who works at a bookstore; Guilford College alum Kristin Wampler, a yoga instructor and photographer; Cameron Wilkin, who graduated from Guilford and programs computers at UNCG; and James Lyons, a Guilford grad who works in tech support at his alma mater. Guilford allows James, the main cinematographer, to use the campus for shoots, which is how we ended up at the lake that Saturday morning. The script called for a peaceful outdoor yoga class. Someone should have told the campus ducks, who have failed to absorb the Quaker school’s pacifist ways. They harassed us until Olivia chased them away with flapping arms. Score one for method acting. Soon, the boom microphone was hovering over us, and two cameras — longlensed digital numbers like the ones your photo-geek friends own — were recording in video mode. Over. And over. And over again. There were multiple takes for every shot. Pick a reason: a shadow, muffled sound, a forgotten line, a detail that was inconsistent with the shot taken before. Two hours later, we were dripping with sweat, and the first scene was done. Time for a wardrobe change. Then we reconvened in a theater basement for another “class,” this one led by a substitute yoga teacher who had murderous intentions with hot yoga. Fortunately for us, the thermostat in the cool basement stayed put. We spritzed ourselves with water to resemble sweat and starting doing the eagle pose, which requires you to intertwine your arms, then do the same with your legs, then squat on one foot. I’ve always suspected it was invented by a yogi who forgot to pee before class. Naturally, our eagles fell short of our teacher’s expectations, and she became more draconian. Muscle fatigue, the real kind, set in as the afternoon wore on, and another reality of amateur filmmaking emerged. People have stuff to do on Saturday. For me, a painting project loomed at home. A quick script change enabled me and another extra to storm out of class, digusted. “This is messed up,” I ad-libbed on my way out of the scene. “Whatever happened to namaste?” Pretty good, huh? My son told me that, come Oscar time, I’m a shoe-in for Best Extra. “Thanks, kid,” I told him. “I’ll remember you in my speech.” Then he asked if I know the other meaning of “extra.” “Yessssss,” I said. “Everyone knows . . . that.” Just so you’ll know, too, the folks at Urban Dictionary define extra as “doing too much, being pretentious, putting on a show.” Like they know anything about being in pictures. At press time, the winner of Greensboro’s 48HFP had not been announced, but you can find out by going to 48hourfilm.com/greensboro-nc. OH Maria Johnson is contributing editor of O.Henry. You can reach her at ohenrymaria@gmail.com. August 2017
O.Henry 21
The Omnivorous Reader
Change of Place
How the king of the legal thriller became an adopted son of Carolina
By D.G. Martin
When John Grisham’s latest
novel, Camino Island, hit bookstore shelves in June, it immediately rose to number one on The New York Times best-seller list and stayed there for weeks.
No surprise there. That is what John Grisham’s books do. But Camino Island is different from most of Grisham’s previous 30 novels. It is not his usual legal thriller in which crimes and mystery intersect with the lives of lawyers and judges. Lawyers make only cameo appearances in the new book. Instead, the action is set in the literary world — the world of writing, publishing and selling books. There is also a literary underworld of criminals who steal and sell valuable manuscripts. Grisham still gives us a crime story. But this time writers, readers and booksellers, as well as thieves, take center stage. One of the book’s central characters gives it a strong North Carolina connection. Mercer Mann, a writing instructor at UNC-Chapel Hill, is losing her job. She suffers writer’s block as she tries to complete her second novel to follow up her first mildly successful one. Carrying a burden of tens of thousands of dollars in student debt, she is at loose ends. Her desperate situation and some other personal connections make her a prime target to be recruited for an undercover assignment to help recover a stash of valuable stolen papers. Earlier, a group of clever thieves has broken into the Princeton University library and walked away with the original manuscripts of The Great Gatsby and four other novels written by F. Scott Fitzgerald. The papers were insured for $25 million. The insurance company suspects that Bruce Cable, a rare book dealer and bookstore owner, has possession of the Fitzgerald papers. He is the center of a group of writers, fans and book collectors on Camino Island, a small resort community near Jacksonville, Florida. Somehow investigators for the insurance company learn that Mercer’s grandparents had lived on Camino Island, that their house is still in the family, and that Mercer has been a frequent visitor. The company sends the case’s lead investigator, Elaine Shelby, to Chapel Hill to recruit Mercer. She wants Mercer to go to Camino Island, where she can infiltrate Bruce’s group, make friends with him, and try to learn whether he has the Fitzgerald papers. In Chapel Hill, Elaine wines and dines Mercer at Spanky’s and the
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Lantern restaurants, two of the town’s favorites, and, incidentally, not far from the house where Grisham and his wife, Renee, live when they visit their daughter and her family, who live in Raleigh. Mercer is a reluctant recruit, but Elaine is persistent and persuasive. Elaine’s promise to pay Mercer’s student debt is a clincher. She tells Elaine, “I have sixty-one thousand dollars in student debt that I can’t get rid of. It’s a burden that consumes every waking hour and it’s making me crazy.” Elaine promises, “We’ll take care of the student loans.” Plus, she offers another $100,000. Later, when Mercer has doubts, Elaine continues to persuade, “You’re a writer living at the beach for a few months in the family cottage. You’re hard at work on a novel. It’s the perfect story, Mercer, because it’s true. And you have the perfect personality because you’re genuine. If we needed a con artist we wouldn’t be talking right now.” Sure enough, Mercer becomes part of the group of writers who gather around Bruce and his bookstore. Some of them, Mercer discovers, “are seasoned raconteurs with an endless supply of stories and quips and one-liners. Others are reclusive and introverted souls who labor in their solitary worlds and struggle to mix and mingle.” As she mingles and mixes, she learns that the popular authors whose books have sold well “longed for critical acclaim, while the literary ones . . . longed for greater royalties.” Getting to know the writers leads to Mercer getting to know Bruce, the smart and charming owner of Bay Books. He owns a dozen seersucker suits and wears a different color each day. He has persuaded 100 customers to collect signed first editions and to put in a standing order to buy signed copies of the latest book by every visiting author. Bay Books makes big money on the sales, and those sales attract book tour visits by America’s most popular authors. Bruce does well as an independent bookseller. He does even better collecting and selling rare books and signed first editions. Is he also making even more money dealing in the dark world of stolen books and papers? Mercer’s assignment is to get to know Bruce well enough to learn whether he has possession of Princeton’s Fitzgerald papers. By courting and charming him, she ultimately finds the answer. Meanwhile, he is courting and charming her, too. While she is finding out about his dark world, he prepares defenses to turn the tables on her and August 2017
O.Henry 23
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24 O.Henry
August 2017
the investigators’ plot to prove that Bruce has his hands on the Fitzgerald papers. So, as the story moves toward an expected ending, Grisham does his usual. He twists the expected into a set of cascading surprises that will fool, entertain and delight his readers, just as he does in his legal thrillers. Is there more than an entertaining story here? Does Grisham, for instance, want to highlight our country’s growing problem with the student debt that is affecting so many young Americans? He says not. The student debt burden on Mercer, he says, is just a small plot point in the Camino Island story. But, according to Grisham, his next legal thriller, coming out in October, will have overwhelming student debt as a central feature of the new novel’s plot. North Carolinians love their authors. They love for North Carolina authors to have the kind of success Grisham enjoys. Some North Carolina Grisham fans argue that his growing connections to our state give us grounds to say that he is one of us. Grisham himself says his farm near Charlottesville, Virginia, is his home and that he is very happy there. However, his North Carolina contacts are substantial. In addition to his house in Chapel Hill, his daughter’s family in Raleigh, and the Chapel Hill scenes in the latest book, he is a Carolina basketball fan. Grisham and popular television host Charlie Rose have an ongoing $100 bet on every Carolina-Duke basketball game. Rose supports his alma mater, Duke. Grisham bets on Carolina. On his recent book tour to promote Camino Island, he made only 11 stops. Four were in North Carolina, twice as many as in any other state. Along the way he invited other North Carolina literary giants — Randall Kenan, Jill McCorkle, John Hart, Ron Rash, Wiley Cash and Clyde Edgerton — to discuss their work. Even if Grisham and his wife are still proud Virginians, we can declare them honorary North Carolinians. Grisham dedicated Camino Island to Renee. He gives her credit for helping develop the new book’s plot as they were driving to Florida for vacation. They collect rare books and signed first editions. When they heard a radio report about a stolen rare book, they were off and running and had the outline of the book developed before they got out of the car. I bet they were driving through North Carolina when the idea hit. OH D.G. Martin hosts North Carolina Bookwatch, which airs Sundays at noon and Thursdays at 5 p.m. on UNC-TV. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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August 2017
O.Henry 25
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26 O.Henry
August 2017
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Scuppernong Bookshelf
Inside or Out? Let August’s crop of new books help you decide
By Brian Lampkin
August in North Carolina is a confusing time. One wants the outdoors, the promise of a summer lived in the splendor of sun and breeze. But one step into the draining weight of swampy humidity drives us back into the confines of artificial comfort. This month’s highlighting of new releases tries to offer books that understand this split, longing for inside and out.
August 1: A Woman’s Place Is at the Top: A Biography of Annie Smith Peck, Queen of the Climbers, by Hannah Kimberley (St. Martin’s, $26.99). Annie Smith Peck is one of the most accomplished women of the 20th century that you have never heard of. Peck was a scholar, educator, writer, lecturer, mountain climber, suffragist and political activist. She was a feminist and an independent thinker who refused to let gender stereotypes stand in her way. Peck gained fame in 1895 when she first climbed the Matterhorn at the age of 45 — not for her daring alpine feat, but because she climbed wearing pants. August 1: Bitch Doctrine: Essays for Dissenting Adults, by Laurie Penny (Bloomsbury, $18.99). Smart and provocative, witty and uncompromising, this collection of Laurie Penny’s celebrated essays establishes her as one of the most important and vibrant political voices of our time. Bitch Doctrine takes an unflinching look at the definitive issues of our age, from the shock of Donald Trump’s election and the victories of the far right to online harassment and the transgender rights movement. August 8: The Great Quake: How the Biggest Earthquake in North America Changed Our Understanding of the Planet, by Henry Fountain (Crown, $28). At 5:36 p.m. on March 27, 1964, a magnitude 9.2 earthquake — the second most powerful in world history — struck the young state of Alaska. The violent shaking, followed by massive tsunamis, devastated the southern half of the state and killed more than 130 people. A day later, George Plafker, a The Art & Soul of Greensboro
geologist with the U.S. Geological Survey, arrived to investigate. His fascinating scientific detective work in the months that followed helped confirm the then-controversial theory of plate tectonics. August 8: The Locals, by Jonathan Dee (Random House, $28). Here are the dramas of 21st-century America — rising inequality, working class decline, a new authoritarianism — played out in the classic setting of some of our greatest novels: the small town. The Locals is that rare work of fiction capable of capturing a fraught American moment in real time. August 15: Bravetart: Iconic American Desserts, by Stella Parks (Norton, $35). From an award-winning pastry chef and a James Beard Award–nominated writer for Serious Eats, foolproof recipes and a fresh take on the history of American desserts, from chocolate chip cookies to toaster pastries. August 22: Young Jane Young, by Gabrielle Zevin (Algonquin Books, $26.95). Chapel Hill’s Algonquin Books brings us Zevin’s much-anticipated follow-up to The Storied Life of A. J. Fikry. Young Jane Young is a smart, funny and moving novel about what it means to be a woman of any age, and captures not just the mood of our recent highly charged political season, but also the double standards alive and well in every aspect of life for women. August 29: All the Dirty Parts, by Daniel Handler (Bloomsbury, $22). The author of the Lemony Snicket series brings us an unblinking take on teenage desire in a culture of unrelenting explicitness and shunted communication, where sex feels like love, but no one knows what love feels like. With short chapters in the style of Jenny Offill or Mary Robison, Daniel Handler gives us a tender, brutal, funny, intoxicating portrait of an age when the lens of sex tilts the world. August 29: The Hidden Light of Northern Fires, by Daren Wang (Thomas Dunne, $26.99). Charles Frazier calls this debut novel “a distinctive cleareyed perspective on a fresh corner of the Civil War. The characters are fully alive, wonderfully varied and the narrative voice is particularly lucid, in sharp contrast with the raving bloody madness of that dark moment in American history.” OH Brian Lampkin is one of the proprietors of Scuppernong Books. August 2017
O.Henry 27
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28 O.Henry
August 2017
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
A Writer’s Life
Writing My Way Home
Finding one’s place in a wide literary landscape
By Wiley Cash
It’s not easy to know what is true for you or me
ILLUSTRATION BY ROMEY PETITE
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I’m what I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you.
Langston Hughes wrote these lines and the poem “Theme for English B,” from which they’re taken, in 1951, when he was nearing 50 years old. I first read the poem as a 20-year-old college sophomore. I’ll turn 40 in a few months, and I can honestly say I’ve thought about this poem almost every day since I read it. In the poem, the speaker’s college composition teacher has asked the students to go home tonight and compose a page about themselves, and whatever results from this assignment will speak to something about who the students are, where they’re from, and what they’re made of. The idea is that what comes from you speaks to what there is of you. As I mentioned, I was a college sophomore when I encountered “Theme for English B.” I had enrolled at the University of North Carolina-Asheville because the English major featured a track in creative writing, and a writer was what I had decided to be. I was a little unclear as to how this would be accomplished, but I was there to learn, and learn I did. But looking back, the best thing I learned about writing was that I wasn’t the kind of writer I wanted to be, meaning I wasn’t someone who wrote like Raymond Carver, Anton Chekhov or Toni Morrison, nor did I write about the things these authors wrote about. I had never visited Carver’s Great Northwest. I couldn’t imagine the lives of Chekhov’s peasants. I couldn’t speak to the African-American experience in Morrison’s Ohio. These people lived interesting lives of conflict and history and culture, and they hailed from interesting places.
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
I was from Gastonia, North Carolina, raised Southern Baptist, loved basketball with all my heart, and spent my summers lifeguarding and my free time reading the masterworks of authors whose lives were more curious than mine, and whose literary voices were more distinct and powerful as a result. But I kept writing. In my little campus dorm room I locked my eyes on the monitor while my fingers pecked away at the keyboard of an enormous, ancient computer. Not once did I lift my gaze to look at the world around me, not once did I dare look back at the world from which I’d come. As a result, the stories that spun from my fingers were regionless, devoid of place, meaning they were almost wholly devoid of life. I refused to acknowledge that any place I was from could be interesting enough to warrant representation, and I also refused to acknowledge the fact that I couldn’t write well enough to make up for the “placelessness” of my fiction. In the fall of 2003, I left North Carolina at the age of 25 and lived outside the state for the first time in my life. I had enrolled in a Ph.D. program in English and creative writing at the University of Louisiana-Lafayette, which is in the heart of Acadiana, more commonly known as Cajun country. Soon, I found that I missed fresh water. I missed the gentle swell of the Piedmont hills as they rose toward the Blue Ridge Mountains. I missed cold winters and mild summers. I missed the good, clean smell of mud that wafts up from a trickling stream as you draw closer to the water. I missed ferns. I missed the music, accents and cuisine I’d always known as comforts without ever realizing the emotional tether they had on my heart. In short, I missed home. I had chosen this particular graduate program in this particular state because a particular author served as the university’s writer-in-residence. Ernest J. Gaines had long been my literary hero, and I still believe he’s one of the finest writers our nation has ever produced. He’d grown up on a plantation just west of Baton Rouge, the same plantation on which his ancestors had been slaves and later sharecroppers, but he hadn’t begun to write about the place he knew until he August 2017
O.Henry 29
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30 O.Henry
August 2017
reimagined.
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
A Writer’s Life joined his mother and stepfather in California when he was 15 years old. He wrote about southwest Louisiana because it was inside him largely because it was no longer outside him, and he longed for it. He began writing about Louisiana while he lived in California, and it led to some of the most important literature in American history: The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman, A Gathering of Old Men and A Lesson Before Dying. Ernest J. Gaines and Thomas Wolfe are perhaps the greatest influences on my writing life, and I took a page from each. From Gaines I learned to write about what I know and where I’ve been, and from Thomas Wolfe, especially Wolfe’s autobiographical hero Eugene Gant in Look Homeward, Angel, I decided to turn my eyes “to the distant, soaring ranges.” My first novel is set in the mountains of western North Carolina, where I’d made the decision to become a writer. My second is set in my hometown of Gastonia, as is my third novel, The Last Ballad, which will be released this fall. A few months ago I returned to Louisiana to spend a few days with Gaines and his wife, Dianne, where they purchased land and built a home on part of the plantation where Gaines was born and raised. One evening around dusk, I was standing on the banks of the False River across the street from the Gaineses’ home when I recalled a line from Hughes’ poem: I guess I’m what I feel and see and hear. I could feel the old dock beneath my boots, every creak as the water lapped against it. I could see the sun fading in the trees across the river, could see the lights winking on at homes on the other side of the water. I could hear the trucks and cars pass on the road behind me, the occasional motor of a boat that passed along the darkening water, the flip of a fish as it broke the surface and then fell beneath it. At that moment, I had no doubt that what I was feeling and seeing and hearing had turned me toward the writer I’ve become, but the things that surrounded me at that moment were not the things that made me the writer I am. Those things rested farther north in the hills and mountains of the Old North State, hidden along creek beds and gurgling streams. Shaded beneath towering maples and sweet gums. Pressed into the rich earth beneath a blanket of ferns. I often wonder about the things that will make up my daughters’ lives, as they will not be the things that have made up my own. They were both born only a few miles from the ocean, and they will both be raised in a landscape that is flat and in air that is humid and tinged with salt. Will they know the magic of the place from which they’ve come? Or, like me, will they have to leave home to find it? OH Wiley Cash lives in Wilmington with his wife and their two daughters. His forthcoming novel The Last Ballad is available for pre-order wherever books are sold.
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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August 2017
O.Henry 31
The Gate City Journal
Chasing the Elusive A conversation with artist Richard Fennell
RICHARD FENNELL, OLDEST HOUSE IN HYDE COUNTY I, 2014, OIL ON BOARD, 25 X 29 INCHES
By Maria Johnson
Hanging around Greensboro’s GreenHill art gallery just before an opening,
Richard Fennell looks like a collector who’s arrived early. Well-groomed and white-haired, he’s the model of business casual. You could be forgiven for wondering: Is he a retired corporate lion waiting to pounce on the cash bar? Perhaps a senior partner who helped his law firm build an impressive collection? Or maybe he’s a local politico? That would be sort of true. Fennell’s serving his sixth term as the mayor of wee Whitsett (population 600ish) on the eastern edge of Guilford County. But you’d be closer to bingo if you noticed that this mustachioed gentleman favors a couple of portraits on the wall: self-portraits of the artist. Yup. Same guy. Which means that beneath the municipal exterior beats the heart of an artist — an artist’s artist — whose work is the stuff of GreenHill’s ongoing show: The Edge of Perception: Richard Fennell Retrospective. The exhibit — more than 100 works plucked from a 50-year career — shows Fennell’s evolution from his undergraduate days of etching and printmaking at East Carolina University, through the formative years he spent getting a Master of Fine Arts degree at UNCG. As a student of the so-called Greensboro School at UNCG, he was introduced to the painterly use of color, which he married to a lesson from sculpture — the importance of studying the space next to an object, or “looking off the
32 O.Henry
August 2017
edge,” as he likes to say. Fennell, now 70, got noticed while he was at UNCG. He landed a piece in the North Carolina Museum of Art. Since then, he’s become one of the state’s most successful painters, with hundreds of pieces hanging in homes, museums and corporate offices around the Southeast. Known for his color-rich still lifes and rural landscapes — rendered mostly in oil and sometimes in pastels — Fennell’s a crowd-pleaser in the vein of his favorite painter, French Post-Impressionist Paul Cézanne. He has painted all over North Carolina, including coastal marshes, Piedmont meadows and farmhouses, and mountain vistas near the home he built by hand in the Ashe County community of Grassy Creek. Like any lifelong artist, Fennell has tussled with his craft, tinkered, solved, relaxed, understood and repeated the process over and over in his quest to capture “it.” In an interview just before his show opened, he explained what “it” is and why he’s still nipping at its heels. He’ll give art fans a further peek into his thinking when he conducts a painting demonstration on August 16, 6–7 p.m., at GreenHill. The exhibit runs through August 20. MJ: Has your work always been so colorful? Fennell: No. I started off in black and white. I was always interested in drawing. When I was an undergraduate, I started in printmaking and painting. Later The Art & Soul of Greensboro
The Gate City Journal
RICHARD FENNELL, INTERIOR WITH STAIRWAY, 1993, OIL ON CANVAS, 48 X 40 INCHES, COLLECTION OF KAY STERN
on, I was really able to understand color. MJ: What brought you to that understanding of color? RF: It started with sculpture and watercolor. I studied with Peter Agostini, who was a sculptor, and he got me started on that idea of trying to develop the form within the space it existed. I was working three dimensionally with clay. Also, I did drawings and watercolors. I learned early on, watercolor is direct. You have water and you have color. The water will stretch the color. You can have it very intense and bring it down. There are many subtleties, and I began to really understand color at that point. When I went over to oil, it was a totally different medium and didn’t act anything like watercolor, so I just started using pure color. When I wanted a red, I’d use a red, when I wanted a pink, I’d use a pink. MJ: You were applying patches of pure color? RF: Right. Then another thing I was doing — and I learned from sculpture — is when you’re building a form, you’re applying the clay, but you’re also tearing down. With oil, I started doing the same thing: I’d apply it and look at it. I’d also tear it down. If it wasn’t right, I’d scrape it off and work back into it. Then you start getting layers of color. MJ: Most people don’t think of oil paint as being dimensional. RF: Right, but working on a flat, two-dimensional space, it’s totally different from working in the round with clay. With your working on a flat space it’s really difficult to get that feeling of solidity and form. So a lot of times it takes this [he gets out of his chair and ducks and weaves as if he’s looking at canvas from different angles]. MJ: How would you describe the Greensboro School? What were some of the hallmarks? RF: To me, it had some truth to it. When I studied in undergraduate school, it was all Abstract or Abstract Expressionism, Pop Art. This was in the late ’60s, early ’70s. That didn’t really appeal to me, so I started looking for something else. When I was looking into grad schools, I saw UNCG was totally different.
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O.Henry 33
Gate City Journal
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34 O.Henry
August 2017
I saw these beautiful figures that people were drawing and painting. And I was like, “Wow, I’d like to understand what they’re doing.” MJ: So that would be a unifying theme for the Greensboro School, an emphasis on figure? RF: Right, and working from life. That’s how you learn about color, that’s how you learn about just about everything. It’s not a photographic type of understanding of reality. It’s not like I’m copying “it,” but I’m trying to understand “it” and I’m trying to reconstruct “it.” “It” is that elusive thing that’s out there, and that probably comes down to truth — and a life force. MJ: Is there anything else that would pop out as a common thread for the Greensboro school? RF: Color was probably one, too. Andrew Martin, I learned a lot from him about color. MJ: Once you came into your style, and you recognized that people liked it, did you ever feel hemmed in by knowing that there was commercial value in painting that way? Were you ever scared to go off in a new direction or try something different? RF: Yeah, I was. A lot of times, you get that from galleries. One time I was doing some work, and they said, “People like your old work better,” and I was like, “What the hell? I don’t care about that.” That makes you mad. That’s when you go and do something really off the wall. But sometimes, you do feel like you’re falling into that trap, especially when galleries are telling you, “People like this.” MJ: So how have you pushed yourself? RF: A lot of it has to do with where you are. That kind of dictates what the outcome is going to be. I’ve never been one of these artists who had to travel, say out West, because I feel like I have so much information where I am. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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That’s the nice thing about working from life, is that you see things that you could never imagine. I saw something the other day I’d never seen before. I was looking at a landscape and I saw a space far in back, then I saw the light hitting fairly close, then I saw something in-between that I’d never seen before. It was the way the light was falling. It was hitting bits and pieces of things, maybe the tips of vegetation, and it created almost this movement sandwiched between the two spaces I was looking at. That was really exciting. I was like, “Wow, I gotta work on trying to get that.” MJ: How did you come to live in Whitsett? RF: I was getting married that summer, after M.F.A., so I wanted to be close to UNCG. We looked all over Greensboro. One day the Realtor said, “I found a place out in Whitsett.” It was an old two-story house, and I said, “Wow, this is great. It gives me all the room in the world, studio room all over the place.” Whitsett, at the turn of the century, was an institute, a prep-type school. It was called Whitsett Institute. A lot of these old houses were used as dorms and residences for the faculty and the students. MJ: Tell me about being mayor. A lot of artists make political statements, but you don’t see a lot of artists as politicians. RF: What started happening while I was in graduate school was you, started getting this movement in, from Greensboro, Burlington and Gibsonville. They didn’t care one iota about Whitsett’s history. They just wanted a jumping off point to the Interstate. That just infuriated me and my wife. We thought, “What can we do to safeguard this?” There was a county commissioner named Jackie Manzi. We were at a meeting, and she said, “What The Art & Soul of Greensboro
August 2017
O.Henry 35
Gate City Journal
RICHARD FENNELL, GRASSY CREEK, 2002, OIL ON CANVAS, 20 X 25 INCHES, COLLECTION OF HARRIET AND ELMS ALLEN
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36 O.Henry
August 2017
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you guys ought to do is incorporate.” So I said, “Hmm.” We got a bunch of people together and started talking about incorporation to protect us from all of these other people trying to take a bite out of us. That’s the reason I got involved, was to protect the area and the landscapes that I really loved . . . We incorporated back in the early ’90s. They wanted me to be mayor to begin with. I said no, I’m not going to be a mayor, but I’ll be a council member. I’m an artist. I’m not a politician. So that was good for a while, but about 12 years ago, I became mayor because I felt like there was a need at the time. MJ: Does it ever feel weird being an artist and a mayor? Do you have to campaign? RF: No, I don’t. It’s two different hats. It’s totally different. You take one hat off and put the other one on. MJ: You’ve been creating art for a long time. Is there ever a temptation to think there’s nothing new in art, nothing new in your art? RF: This is what you have to understand — in art, you try to keep growing all through your life. I’m not going to switch over to something totally different. I feel like I still have a lot to learn. I’m still making discoveries. It still seems fresh to me. Whether it feels fresh to somebody else doesn’t matter. I don’t want to get off on some tangent that makes no sense whatsoever. I’m still trying to understand what the hell I’m doing! [He laughs.] Really, it’s true. It’s so elusive. I just got through doing three portraits. They were really nice. Each one of them had a totally different feel because each one was a totally different human being, with different things you’re trying to get. That’s exciting. MJ: What can people learn from this exhibit, about you, that they didn’t know before? RF: I guess you can start at the beginning and see where I’m struggling, trying to get an understanding of something, and as I progress, maybe you can see what that is. All of this was preparing me to understand how to see, how to paint. OH Maria Johnson is a contributing editor of O.Henry. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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O.Henry 37
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38 O.Henry
August 2017
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Life of Jane
Between Here and There A homesick Southern girl dives deep into Flannery O’Connor
By Jane Borden
Uh-oh,” I said from the
ILLUSTRATION BY MERIDITH MARTENS
sofa in my Los Angeles apartment. As if the collected works of Flannery O’Connor might respond. Books don’t talk. Authors do, I suppose, but even if O’Connor’s ghost had decided to travel from her grave in Milledgeville, Georgia, just to watch me read her stories, she couldn’t have heard my “uh-oh” utterance over the hip hop music blaring from my neighbor’s car. And suddenly I was then wondering what she would think of Drake and his meteoric rise up the charts — an omen, for sure, but of what, only she could say.
To read O’Connor’s work is to fall under a spell. It is also a form of travel. And that was the point. I found myself a little closer to home that afternoon. Los Angeles is as far away from Greensboro as New Foundland is. As far away as Colombia. I miss home. I wrote an entire book about figuring out how to move back to the South. Then the cocktail of marriage and career pulled me even farther away. So I prescribed myself some O’Connor. When I was a teenager, her country Georgia folk stayed with me long after class. The Misfit was around every corner. The healer in the river was just beyond every tree line. That afternoon in Los Angeles, I enjoyed feelings of familiarity. But then they became uncomfortably intense. I said “Uh-oh” because I connected a little too much with the characters in her stories. This is not good. Things don’t end well for O’Connor’s creations. They find themselves shot in the heart; drowned in rivers; or abandoned at truck stops, deaf and mute. I mean, if Flannery is writing my The Art & Soul of Greensboro
life, the best-possible ending for which I can hope is to have a Bible salesman steal my wooden leg. Allow me to clarify: I’m not claiming a similarity to her. She was the queen of Southern Gothic, whose beautifully succinct short stories reveal our shortcomings and unquenchable desires. I am also Southern, but if my writing reveals anything, it’s an inability to turn down muffins. O’Connor was invited to the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and the prestigious Yaddo colony in upstate New York; I was once invited to speak at a book club of five people on the Upper East Side. And also to a karaoke birthday party next weekend. But I am searching, as her characters do, for the same answers regarding origins and endings. Like young Nelson who travels to Atlanta in O’Connor’s story (the one with the title that can’t be reprinted), I inherently long to be where I can shout, “I was born here!” In my book, I described the sickening feeling of asking myself where I was going and realizing I didn’t know. When Mrs. Shortley’s daughter asks her that question in “The Displaced Person,” Mrs. Shortley dies of a stroke, right there at the farm’s gate. Like I said: Uh-oh. More than anything, I’ve searched for the answer to the question of where home is. But I certainly don’t want to have an aneurism at RDU. So instead of learning from her characters, I’ll take a lesson from O’Connor herself, who suggests that truths can’t be catalogued, that they only exist in the in-betweens and no-wheres, when you’re standing “half in the sunlight and half out,” or when “there was not a cloud in the sky nor any sun.” Perhaps I should simply say, as that Bible salesman does, that “I’m not even from a place, just from near a place.” Better not to nail down home, but drown in its moving current; wherever I am, I’m in it. What O’Connor so beautifully described are the currents themselves. If life can’t be known, it can at least be understood. One of her editors wrote that when they met, he couldn’t decipher a word through her thick accent. But with her pen she was crystal clear. Too bad we never got to hear her karaoke. OH You can find Greensboro native Jane Borden, author of I Totally Meant To Do That, in L.A. — or at JaneBorden.com. August 2017
O.Henry 39
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40 O.Henry
August 2017
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Birdwatch
Brew-birds of Happiness
A haven for hummingbirds at Red Oak Brewery By Susan Campbell
When I listened to the phone mes-
sage, it was from a gentleman at a brewery of all places! He was calling me, as many people do, with a hummingbird issue. Oh boy! Probably, I figured, a young rubythroated trapped inside the building. I get these calls every summer — from all kinds of folks. As always, I returned the call right away, hoping to avoid disaster.
As it turned out, there was no crisis. The call, which came several years ago, was an inquiry from Bill Sherrill, owner of Red Oak, the brewery that makes Hummin’ Bird lager. Fortuitously, I had just tried this light but flavorful beer a couple of weeks before at Mellow Mushroom here in Southern Pines. I noticed it on the restaurant’s beer list and, being a hummingbird lover, was very curious. Now Bill was asking me whether these tiniest of birds, which he also loved, could be lured to his manufacturing plant off I-85 near Whitsett. And who wouldn’t love such amazing creatures? As a bird lover and ornithologist who has been researching hummingbirds for almost two decades, I never tire of their iridescent plumage, fancy flight and feisty attitudes. Having banded thousands of these tiny birds, I still have much yet to learn from them with each passing summer. Weighing less than a nickel, the ruby-throated is the only hummingbird species that breeds in North Carolina. In addition to their well-known ability to hover, they can also fly sideways and backwards — and upside down. Living life in the fast lane (cruising speed is a good 35 mph) requires a lot of fuel, so it should come as no surprise that these little birds consume roughly their body weight in sugar each day. Additionally, ruby-throateds need protein, especially during the breeding season. Any small insect found around flowers or grabbed out of the air that fits down the hatch is an opportune snack. Would ruby-throateds become regular visitors to the beer garden Bill had lovingly built for his patrons? Even without knowing anything about the property, I figured it should be possible. But it would take a visit to Red Oak to know for sure. And if so, we would have to rapidly hatch a plan since mid-summer was approaching. I arrived at the brewery the following Friday afternoon to meet Bill, as he insisted I call him, and so I could learn a bit about the brewery, the scope of its beer garden and, of course, maybe taste some of the other lagers. What makes Red Oak different from other craft beers is that all its lagers are unfiltered, unpasteurized and preservative-free. It is also the only beer in North Carolina made from imported Bavarian malted barley and German Noble Aroma hops in accordance with the 1516 Bavarian Law of Purity.
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Given the extensive landscaping already in place complementing the beer garden, it was clear that adding planters with brightly blooming annuals and perennials would be the way to go. Because they are hummingbird magnets, we chose the sweetest varieties of salvias, lantanas and cigar plants leaving room to hang sugar-water feeders. In order to ensure the birds’ return, we added six feeders and, twice a week, I dump them out, clean and replenish them. I’ve tried dozens of varieties, but over the years I’ve found that HummZinger and Dr. JB’s Clean Feeders are not only a consistent hit with the birds but are also well-made and easy to keep clean. The water features on each side of the beer garden were a pleasant surprise. One has a waterfall and the other a small fountain, and both have significant moving water, the sound of which draws birds of all kinds. In both features, water flows over rocks and the levels are shallow enough for a hummingbird to stand in. Have you ever seen a hummer taking a bath? It’s a rare and marvelous sight. It also helps that the amount of red on the property — the signage, trailer and even umbrellas on the tables on tour day — clearly get the birds’ attention. Given that ruby-throated can see red a half to three quarters of a mile away, Red Oak’s brilliant logo is definitely the right color. Furthermore Red Oak is not far from prime hummingbird habitat: Lake Mackintosh, a Burlington water source, is less than a mile away. The Red Oak property, purchased more than a decade ago, clearly was acquired with expansion in mind. The main part of the brewery, a massive edifice showcasing dozens of gleaming stainless-steel tanks as well as the bottling and kegging lines, is just the beginning. Call it what you want: bierpalast, bierstube, biergarten, gasthof, beer hall or, Bill Sherrill’s favorite, lager haus, the 28,000-square-foot expansion, scheduled to open by November, will house two separate beer-drinking halls featuring a handsome mahogany bar and etchedglass window, with soaring hardwood beams and maple paneling overhead. Guests will be able to buy Red Oak in bottles and growlers or drink it from draft taps Wednesday through Saturday in the winter and Wednesday through Sunday in the summer. “Susan has been absolutely amazing,” Sherrill told O.Henry magazine just the other day. “The hummingbirds have absolutely increased since she came here. It’s been a wonderful partnership.” And more will come, he said, once Campbell and Trena McNabb tackle the ambitious landscaping around the new facility. “We’ll have a waterfall going into an open stream that will run right through the middle of the beer garden,” Sherrill enthused. The open stream, waterfalls and expanded landscaping that featuret native plants will attract all sorts of birds, including northern mockingbirds, house finches, northern rough-winged swallows, killdeer, red-winged blackbirds, and chipping sparrows visit and nest all around the brewery. After all, what goes better with beer than wings? OH Susan would love to receive your wildlife sightings and photos. She can be contacted by email at susan@ncaves.com. August 2017
O.Henry 41
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
He
True South
The Sombrero Syndrome Is there room in the suitcase for this?
By Susan Kelly
’Tis the season for traveling, touring, ILLUSTRATION BY MERIDITH MARTENS
visiting, and succumbing to the Sombrero Syndrome.
Definition: som·bre·ro (\sm-brer-()) syn·drome (\sin-drm): an affliction which compels one to buy an item endemic to a specific locale; a purchase that will eventually prove to be useless, such as a sombrero while in Mexico. I was first infected with Sombrero Syndrome on Nantucket, the college summer I worked in a cutesy “shoppe” schlepping scrimshaw and quahog jewelry. Never mind that I was too poor to eat anything but fluffernutter sandwiches and hitchhiked everywhere; I scrimped and saved until I could buy a $100 (including employee discount) piece of (probably fake) whale tooth etched with a sailing ship. You want it? It’s right here, along with several strings of worry beads I bought at a kiosk below the Parthenon. Somewhere in a kitchen drawer is the damask tablecloth I had to have while I was in Provence that looked so romantically al fresco enchanting . . . in Provence. It’s probably stuffed next to the scarf I bought from a Florentine street vendor, which matches nothing in my closet, but at least it was only $5. Should’ve bought gelato. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
The Syndrome virus lurks in every milieu. At Fearrington Village, all the plants look so perfect that I just had to bring home some shrub that was supposed to burst forth with red berries every December. I envisioned instant, perennial mantel decorations for Christmas. Either I got the girl plant or the boy plant or it’s asexual, but there’s never been a single berry. The Sombrero Syndrome is a different infection from buyer’s remorse. The latter concerns any old thing you buy at the mall which you then proceed to loathe. This includes the Punishment Dress, so named because you have to wear it to punish yourself for buying it. Sombrero Syndrome is the kilt I bought in Scotland (worn once, and then to a costume party) and the angora yarn I sold my soul for in Ireland when I was a knitter. Or flufferknitter. And while I’ve never been to Mexico, I bought the equivalent of a sombrero in some Napa Valley winery tasting room: a sun hat so widebrimmed that I had to hold it in my lap all the way across the country so it wouldn’t get smushed. Clearly, I should have opted for a case of rosé (see gelato, above). Forget Zika, Ebola and malaria. Beware the Sombrero instead. OH Susan Kelly is a blithe spirit, author of several novels, and proud new grandmother. August 2017
O.Henry 43
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44 O.Henry
August 2017
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Wandering Billy
Saturday Night Fever Remembering the summer of ’77 in the Gate City
By Billy Eye “Have you ever noticed that anybody driving slower than you is an idiot, and anyone going faster than you is a maniac?” — George Carlin
It’s 7:40 p.m. on August 6, 1977.
Johnny’s restless. The family’s snugly ensconced in the crushed velvet Broyhill living room suite his mom won last year on Truth or Consequences, watching Chuckie Baby introduce Gene, Gene, The Dancing Machine. But a Saturday night in front of the electronic fireplace isn’t Johnny’s bag. A rising senior at Page, his girlThe Art & Soul of Greensboro
friend’s va-caing at Ocean Isle with her P’s, and a good number of his friends plunked down six bucks for Supertramp at the Coliseum that night. Even so, there has to be something happening in Greensboring!
The roar, then rattle and hum of a 302 engine reverberates off garage walls as Johnny backs his 1973 Mustang convertible down the driveway. Classmates give him a hard time about his ride but, since Detroit will never again make a droptop, he’s hanging on to it forever. So what if the filling station charges 65 cents now for Super Shell with Platformate? Johnny’s flush with cash since he took that part-time job at Peaches for $2.45 an hour. Canvas top lowering into its resting position, Johnny plunges Bat Out of Hell into the AM/8-Track deck before motoring east. Cresting the hill on 16th Street, passing the 29 overpass, what appears to be a Lucas-like spaceAugust 2017
O.Henry 45
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46 O.Henry
August 2017
craft looms into view on his left, with fiery tile moorings and modular, elevated cannon towers. Light beams in primary colors bathe the smooth, white surface of this monolithic structure sprawling across the landscape for as far as the eye can see. Foot off the gas, that Saddle Bronze Metallic pony car idles down to 30 mph orbiting the periphery of this imposing, angular compound. Johnny’s in awe, “There will never be a cooler place than the Carolina Circle Mall.” This 17-year old finds it inconceivable that anyone ever got through life without the many wonders contained within its funhouse mirrored interior: skating in the central corridor’s Ice Chalet; J Riggins, where he bought that tight-fitting, black polyester three-piece suit for prom; air hockey and four-player Fireball at Electronic America; the mystery powder that makes an orange a Julius; the sickeningly sweet aroma fanned out from Great American Cookie Factory. Most especially, the diffused-lit, plexiglass splendor of The Current Event disco on the lower level where Johnny met his girlfriend Deb, a sophomore at Grimsley. Seriously, all of that and Camelot too. Up ahead, Johnny can see half a dozen teens in helmets and shoulder pads breaking above undulating, block-long concrete bowls at the newly constructed skateboard park. A glance behind the passenger side bucket seat confirms his Tony Alva board is there but that’s when an aroma of another mother floods his senses, the putrid smell from a nearby sewage treatment plant. Johnny jams that muscle car into Drive, then his foot to the floor, to leave a steel-belted radial calling card on the parking lot surface behind him. After a pickup game at Blair Park, our boy rolls slowly past some girls’ houses in Irving Park (because, you never know, right?) before parking on Northwood. Crossing the street to BaskinRobbins, he wades into a crowd of teenagers numbering in the hundreds who have migrated over from the Janus after Star Wars and The Van let out. Wearing a PacSun T and cutoffs, Johnny chats up a girl whose answers he uses to cheat on The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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Ms. Alston’s math tests. She proposes they hang at her TFF’s crib, while the parents are away for the weekend; knowing where that leads he reluctantly passes. Lucky for him, because who should saddle up but Deb’s bestie, she’s never liked Johnny from the jump, probably because he’s a skateboarder, who she derisively refers to as “dirt surfers.” To curry favor, he’s sucked into an overly cordial conversation about how much her daddy hates Fords, which he finds somewhat confusing, but that’s because the term “passiveaggressive” hasn’t yet entered the lexicon. Alone, back in his ride, Johnny ejects Meat Loaf to insert a Yes cartridge while cruising up High Point Road, blowing past Cheap Joe’s, Bill’s Pizza Pub, then Roy Rogers. After passing Four Seasons on the left, he turns right into a new nightclub he heard advertised on RQK, Dadio’s, where bartender Ronnie tells him about their upcoming Ladies’ Lock-Up night while pouring a cold one. (Being served liquid sunshine when he’s only 17? Johnny has a fake ID that says he’s 18.) Black Betty blaring, Johnny crosses the dance floor to join a couple of UNCG jocks he recognizes from Sunday afternoon Rugby games at Latham Park. After finishing their Buds, the guys and their dates invite Johnny along to disco the night away at Papillon, but who wants to be a fifth wheel? Besides, he’s still smarting from being introduced by one of these brawlers as, “That high school kid I was telling you about” at a gathering on campus. The TI-500 beeping on his wrist signals this night must come to an early end. Johnny made his girlfriend pinky-promise she’d phone every night at 11 o’clock and he’d better be home to receive that call or he’s the one in trouble. Pulling into the driveway with only minutes to spare he’s thinking, “I knew there’d be nothing to do, anyway.” OH Billy Eye is done Summering in the past and will be Falling in the future.
48 O.Henry
August 2017
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August 2017
O.Henry 49
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August 2017
Wild Words I’ll not read poetry at bedtime anymore — those wild words gang up, go roaming in my head, jump synapses, gathering speed, picking up more of their kind, bringing little phrases to the threshold of my sleep like proud cats leaving mice on a doorstep. Some I shoo away, but others will not let me rest till they finally shake me awake, and with pen scratching sleepily on the back of a store receipt, I quickly let them out. — Laura Lomax
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
August 2017
O.Henry 51
Mani /Pedi Fiction by Lee Smith
52 O.Henry
August 2017
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
I
come here to be touched. I want the lotion, the rubbing, the smoothing, the stroking, the pressing, the kneading fingers, the touch on my toes and feet and legs and hands and shoulders. Oh and I always get the neck massage, too, in addition to the deluxe manicure and the hot stone pedicure and the warm wax treatment on both feet and hands. I especially love the moment when each hand or foot slides into its own plastic bag filled with that melted wax, you think it’s too hot and you can’t stand it, but you can. And I especially love Kim, a round sweet Filipino woman, the salon owner’s wife, who is doing me today, both for her wonderful plump firm hands and also her strength as she goes deep, deep into the tight muscles of my calves and neck. If I can’t get Kim, I ask for Rosa, thin, tense, and angry, or Luis, a gentle, beautiful young man who seems wistful or sad to me though who knows if that is true or not. None of these people speak English beyond the most rudimentary and necessary terms such as “Mani-pedi too-too?” or “Hot-hot?” as I put my feet into the tub, or “You like?” as Kim asks now, massaging my calves, then “Feel so good!” with a nice big smile as she brings the hot towel to cover my knees and lower legs and feet. This is heaven. I smile, too. I love it that we can’t really communicate. I’m not here to talk, I’m here to be touched.
Since Charlie died, many people have actually come up to me and said, “Well, it’s a blessing, isn’t it, after all this time,” or “It’s so sad, but it must be a relief, too.” The fact is, it is not a blessing, and it is not a relief, either. So what if Charlie couldn’t speak to me for the last four years? He knew me, I’m sure of that. The body has its own way of knowing, bone to bone, skin to skin. I believe it comforted him when I touched him or turned him so that we lay curled together side to side like spoons in a drawer, flesh to flesh as in our long life together, two old high school teachers, married for 45 years. The body has a knowledge of its own, this is why I kept him at home and I don’t care what anybody thought of that, my son or his wife or the hospice people or anybody. So now? I don’t miss Charlie himself, he’d been gone for years. But I do miss his body, his flesh, the feel of him, the touching. So I come here. I come way too often, I know, especially considering that I don’t really have any nails to speak of, I never have. I come too often and I stay too long. But so does this other woman, also older, like myself, a blowsy, disheveled blonde who occupies the other pedicure chair in this secluded back alcove. I’ve seen her here several times. Today, she has already had her manicure; she waves her hands through the perfumed air, then holds them up to admire her perfect nails, tapered hot pink points, while her feet and ankles soak in the hot tub. This is a reversal of the standard routine. Usually the pedicure is first, then the manicure while the toenails are drying under the special light at one of the nail stations. I love that special light, so warm on my feet, I love the tiny fan on my fingernails. I tip extravagantly when I leave. “They already told me I can just soak as long as I want,” this woman suddenly leans forward to tell me, sounding defensive. What a surprise, a real jolt! I have never talked to any other customer here in The Purple Orchid in this rundown strip mall out on the highway north of The Art & Soul of Greensboro
town, far from my own staid neighborhood and all my regular haunts. I can’t think what to say. “I’m having a real bad day,” she goes on, leaning forward, ”but I swear, it always calms me down to come in for a mani/pedi. Kim sweetie, could you come over here and jack up the heat for me, hon? Hot-hot please-please!” she calls, and Kim leaves my chair to go over to her. “Just a little bit more, yes-yes hot-hot, that’s good, that’s good hon, that’s perfect! Thank you, sweetie.” Kim comes back to me and the other woman settles back in her chair. She was beautiful once, I can see that, about 40 years and 40 pounds ago, in a beauty queen sort of way. In fact she was a beauty queen, I’m sure of it, Miss This or Miss That, back in the day, which was my day, too, of course. But I was not a beauty queen or a cheerleader or a majorette. No, I was in the Beta Club, and the French club, and the band. Flute. This woman’s hair is still fairly full and too long for her age, almost big hair. Hers is not the practiced smile of the professional beauty contestant, though, but an engaging, lopsided grin. “I tell you what,” she says, looking straight at me, “I really do need to calm down today. I need to focus. I’ve got to get myself together.” “Well, me too,” I hear myself saying. Maybe this is true. Kim takes off the hot towel now and massages my feet, rubbing lotion between each toe, buffing that recalcitrant callus with a pumice stone, then trimming my toenails, first one foot, then the other. “Yeah, I’ve seen you in here before,” the blonde says. “My name is Sandy Neighbors, honey, and my husband is Manly Neighbors, that’s the one that does everybody’s taxes in this whole town, you may have seen his billboards, he’s got them up everyplace, there’s one right near here where Church Street runs into Route 60. Manly Neighbors, he’s got a red tie and a great big old shit-eating grin.” I start laughing, I can’t help it, I have seen that guy on that billboard, and August 2017
O.Henry 53
she’s right. I haven’t laughed in so long it hurts. “Yeah, he’s real busy right now,” Sandy says. “It’s tax season, you know” — it’s April — “so Mr. Manly Neighbors, Mr. Important, Mr. Big, he just can’t do a goddamn thing with his wife, he’s so busy, he’s a workaholic anyhow, even at the best of times. I think that’s what happens when you grow up poor, you know, you just can’t ever make too much money, you can’t believe it’s real somehow. Him and his mom used to eat the old bread that the Mick or Mack grocery store was throwing out, that’s how poor they was, so I guess we just can’t imagine.” I really don’t know what to say to that, which doesn’t matter anyway as Sandy Neighbors just goes right on talking while Kim trims my nails and then expertly applies the polish on my toenails, Tijuana Holiday, something new for me, I picked it for the first time today, usually I choose something more subdued such as Dawn Blush which is almost mauve. But who cares? What does it matter? “Ooh, I just love that red,” Sandy Neighbors says. “And you’ve got the prettiest feet, too!” I have never been told this before. “You look real good, honey,” Sandy pronounces now, while leaning way over the side of her pedicure chair to haul up an enormous sequined tote bag which she begins rummaging around in, finally pulling out a bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade which I know to be the real stuff that they sell at the liquor store and at the convenience store up the highway where I go to buy my cigarettes, Salems, which I have started smoking again now after quitting for 30 years, nobody knows it though, I don’t do it in public ever, just mostly in the car out on the Interstate or out on the bedroom balcony late at night when I just can’t sleep. Now Sandy is all bent over feeling around in the tote bag again, emerging finally with a flushed face and one of those old churchkey openers that I haven’t seen in years. “Ta-da!” she pops off the top, throws her head back, and takes a big pull on the bottle then grins at me. “This here is my special lemonade,” she says. “It calms me down real good.” She takes another swig, looks all around as if for spies, then leans across to say to me confidentially, “Actually I’m just going to set over here a while and drink some of my lemonade and try to pass this, this kidney stone that’s just about to bother me to death.” I was nonplussed. “Can you just do that?” I ask. “Just like that? I mean, pass a kidney stone just because you want to?” “Well, I don’t know,” she says. “Stick around and we’ll see. But I read in a magazine that citrus is real helpful. And this lemonade is pretty damn good, too. You want to try some?” “Sure,” I say, and she pops the top of another one and leans way across the pink carpet so I can reach out and get it. I take a big swallow. This stuff is wonderful. “So what do you think?” she asks. “Pretty good, huh? I think it’s relaxing, too. In fact, I’m getting real relaxed already.” “I can see that,” I say, settling back, taking another long pull on this longneck bottle, which amuses me, the wordplay, I mean, “long pull” and
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August 2017
“longneck.” I used to be a poet in my youth. ”I’m getting pretty relaxed myself.” I take another drink. “So, what’s happening over there? Any progress with that kidney stone?“ I ask, while a part of me seems to have levitated to the ceiling where I hover over us both, me and Sandy Neighbors in our pretty pink alcove which looks like the inside of a seashell, I think suddenly, one of those big curly conch shells that you can blow into. “Well, I don’t know,” Sandy says, “I can’t tell yet. But I’d really like to go ahead and pass it so I can go on this Senior Water Aerobics Club trip tomorrow. I sure don’t want to pass it while we’re all on the bus. And I’ve already paid for the trip.” “But where are you going?” I ask, thinking of nearby bodies of water: Kerr Lake, Jordan Lake . . . “Oh honey, we’re not going swimming! Lord, it’s way too cold for that!” Sandy laughs at my stupidity. “No, honey, we’re going to Savannah on a big fancy bus, it’s a scenic tour kind of thing. Of course I’ve already been to Savannah one time with Manly” — she rolls her eyes — “we had a free trip we won at a Rotary Club raffle. But this trip will be completely different, a girl thing, so it’ll be lots more fun. They’ve got a bar about every 20 feet in Savannah, plus all this old architecture and culture and shit, and low country cooking, that’s what they call it down there, ‘the low country.’” “I’ve heard that,” I say. “Hey, you know what? You ought to come along with us!” Sandy cries. I drain my lemonade, trying to imagine this. Maybe I look doubtful, because she adds, “Without the husbands, you know, why we’ll just have the best time in the world. So you can leave yours at home too.” “I would,” I say, “but you know, this is kind of short notice.” She gets out two more longnecks, pops the tops, and hands one over. “Well, even if you can’t make this trip, you ought to join our water aerobics club anyhow, we have a lot of fun in there, splashing around and gossiping. Plus it’s real good for your arthritis and balance and everything.” This is exactly the kind of suggestion my daughter-in-law and my sister keep making all the time. “When do you meet?” I ask in spite of myself. “Ten o’clock Tuesday and Thursday mornings,” she says, “in the pool at the Orange County Recreation Center.” I shake my head. “I’m a poet,” I say. “That’s when I work.” “Work?” Sandy snorts. “I thought you said you was a poet.” “I mean, that’s when I write,” I say, firmly now, convinced of it. “Well, why don’t you write some other time, then?” Sandy asks with a big shit-eating grin. “You ought to come. You’d just love us!” “Maybe I will,” I say, just as Sandy grabs both arms of her pedi chair and starts yelling. “Oh oh! Oh my God! Watch out! It’s happening! It’s coming! It’s coming right now!” she shrieks, hanging on for dear life. OH Lee Smith, who resides in Hillsborough, is the award-winning author of 13 novels and four short story collections and a beautiful memoir of growing up in rural Virginia called Dimestore, published in March of 2016 by Algonquin Books. She is one of the brightest lights of American fiction, a true gift to the Old North State, and an old friend of this magazine. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Your
Husband
Is Cheating on
Us
Y
Fiction by Jill McCorkle
our husband is cheating on us. I’m assuming that he hasn’t told you yet. I’m the test wife and he tries everything out on me first, I mean everything. Remember when he got hooked on that massage oil that heats up with body temp? Now maybe you liked it, but I sure didn’t. I got a rash, but of course, I have extremely sensitive skin and always have. I mean, I am Clinique all the way. If you were writing up this triangle (fast becoming a rectangle), then you’d be the one with sensitive skin, the fair, hothouse flower, and I’d be the scrub grass by the side of the road. And look at you — some tan. I know that you go to Total Skin Care and get in the sunning beds. It’s odd how he tells me all about you. There have been many times when I’ve said, well, why don’t you just go on home then? And of course, that’s the ironic part, because he always does. But, girl, like are you thick? I would know if my man had been out messing around. Like I know your perfume — Chloé — and the fact that you have not picked up on my Shalimar is amazing. I wear the stuff the way it’s supposed to be worn — heavy; I’m one of those women people ask not to be seated next to on the airplane. At my last clerical job they ran a ban on perfume in the workplace after I’d been there a week, so I had to quit on principle. That’s me, a quitter; a principled quitter. When the going gets tough I get the hell out, always have. I’ve come here today with a proposition for you, but before I get into that, I thought you might like to hear a bit about me. I’d think you’d want to, given that I know everything there is to know about you. I know your mama died last January, and I have to tell you that I almost called you up to give my condolences. I mean, I’d been hearing about how awful her illness was and how you were traveling back and forth to tend to her. I heard you on the answering machine many times when I’d be over here cooking dinner. I’ve got to tell you that I just love your kitchen — that commercial-size stove and those marble countertops. Was he feeling guilty when you all remodeled, or what? You and I both have excellent and
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
very similar tastes. Don’t look at my hair. It’s not a good day. You should see me when it’s just cut and blown dry. Maybe I can show you some time. Anyway, one of those nights when I heard you on the machine, you were crying so hard that I almost picked up, so strong was my urge to want to comfort you. When Mr. Big got home, I told him there was a message I felt he had to listen to right that minute, and of course, he did, but then did he call you? No, ma’am. And did he call to check on your son, who he had dumped off at the Anderson house and them not even home from work yet? I told him that if I had a son I believe I’d be more responsible with him, and he just pawed the air like l might be dumb. He must do that to you a lot, too. I’m sure he must. I even suggested I excuse myself, go to the mall or something so he could have his privacy but he just waved again and shrugged, like, nayyhh. Well, that was the first time I stopped and asked myself just who in the hell was this man I was sharing my (or your) bed with? I looked at him in a completely different way after that. I mean, how could he hear you sobbing and carrying on like that and not rush to call you? I see your surprise and I’m sorry. We all grow up and find out that the truth hurts. But here’s some truth you might like. I did not sleep with him in your bed that night. I faked myself a migraine (complete with blinding aura) and made him drive me straight home. Do you think he ever looked all around to make sure your neighbors weren’t looking? Hell, no. Either too stupid or just didn’t give a damn, I can’t figure which. I moaned and groaned and talked of the bright lights I was seeing out of my right eye (I told him the left had already shut out in complete blindness), and honey, he drove faster than the speed limit. I have always noticed how men (at least the ones I’ve come into contact with) can’t stand to observe pain. It just sends them right up a tree. I have also faked menstrual cramps with Mr. Big on several occasions, and so I know in great detail (he talks a hell of a lot, doesn’t he?) that you have just terrible periods and always have. My bet is that you’ve faked your share, am I right? Well, either way, I know how you sometimes ask him to crush up some Valium into some juice
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O.Henry 55
that you sip through a straw so you don’t have to sit up and straighten yourself out. Genius. Make that Mr. Big Ass work! But honey, I’m not so sure I’d trust him, you know? If I were you I might mix my own cocktails. But enough about that, I wanted to tell you about me. Get yourself a drink if you like, or a cigarette. I know you smoke. He knows you smoke, even though you think he doesn’t. I mean, the man is slow for sure, but he isn’t completely out of the loop. He has smelled it in your hair, even though he says you spray lots of hairspray and perfume (he doesn’t know you wear Chloé — I do). So come on out in the open and just smoke. I smoked for years and I absolutely loved it. But I quit years ago. I am actually one of those who quit because of Yul Brynner coming on television and saying that, when I saw him there doing that ad, then it meant he was dead. Lord. That was a moving experience. I was holding a cigarette in my hand and was seven months pregnant (yes I have had a life, too), and I felt like Yul was looking directly into my eyes. Talk about an aura. Yul had an aura, and don’t be like Mr. Big and make a joke about his baldness. I felt his soul reach out and grab me by the throat and say, Put out the butt. I went out on my back stoop, took one final drag (a long, delicious drag), and then I thumped that butt clean across the darkened backyard where it twinkled and glowed for just a brief second before dying. If I was somebody who could like have one cookie at a time or could eat the designated portion written at the top of the recipe or on the side of the box, then I’d ask you to give me a cigarette, but we know better. If I had one cigarette, I’d have a carton. I have always told people that if I was ever given the bad news that my number had been drawn in that great bingo game we call fate and I only had a little bit of time left, that I’d get me a cooler of beer and a carton of cigarettes and several bottles of Hawaiian Tropic (the oil with the red label for tropical-looking people), a tape deck with all my favorites from when I was teenager: Pet Clark and Chad and Jeremy, you know my time, I’m a few years older than you, I think. And I’d just stretch out and offer myself to the sun; a burnt offering. Burnt, greased, and buzzing like a bee. The baby? You’re asking about my baby? Well, let’s just say that if I had a baby then my last wish would be a very different one. But that’s not something I like to talk about. I’ll tell you what I did come to talk about. You see, I have been thinking that we should get rid of Mr. Big. That’s right, don’t look so shocked until you hear me out. It would be just like in that movie that came out a year or two ago, only I do not want to get into a lesbian entanglement with you. I mean, no offense or anything, it’s just not my cup of tea. Actually I would like some of whatever you’re drinking. Diet Coke is fine. Don’t slip me a Mickey, okay? A joke, honey. That’s a joke. I’m full of them. Probably every joke you’ve heard over the past eight years has been right from my mouth. Mr. Big has no sense of rhythm or timing — in anything, you know? Truth is you look a far sight better than how he painted you, and you look a damn lot better than that photo of you all in that church family book. I mean it made me sick to see Mr. Big Ass sitting there grinning like he was the best husband in the world when of course I knew the truth. Honey, there are facts and then there are facts, and the fact is that he is a loser with a capital L. Arsenic is big where I’m from. I guess anywhere you’ve got a lot of pests
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August 2017
there’s a need for poison, and then maybe your perception of what constitutes a pest grows and changes over the years. There was a woman from a couple of towns over who went on a tear and fed arsenic to practically everybody she knew. If she had had herself a religious mission like Bo and Peep or Do and Mi, whatever those fools were called who tried to hitch a ride on the comet by committing suicide in new Nikes, or like that Waco Freak, or, you know, that Jim guy with the Kool-Aid down in Guyana, she’d have gotten a lot of coverage – People magazine, Prime Time, you name it. When they finally wised up to her, she had enough ant killer stashed in her pantry to wipe out this whole county. It’s big in this state. Cyanide, too, might be good because you’ve got that whiff of almond you might could hide in some baked goods. But I don’t know how to get that. I know what you’re thinking, sister. I’ve been there. You see, your husband has been faithful to me for eight long years, and why he up and pulled this stunt I don’t know. Middle-age crazy, I suspect. Maybe he wanted somebody younger and shapelier. Maybe he wanted somebody a little more hot to trot like my oldest friend — practically a relative — who sleeps with anybody who can fog a mirror, and her own little lambs fast asleep in the very next room. If I had had my own little lamb, my life would have been very different. And I was going to tell you about the real me, so I’ll just begin before I go back to my plan. You keep thinking about it while I do my autobiography for you. You see, I think that my first knowledge that I would live the life I do is when I was in the eighth grade and my foot jumped right into a size nine shoe. Now I’m looking over and I see that you are about a seven and a half, which is a very safe place for a foot to be these days. That’s a safe size. But I hit nine so fast and all of the women in my family said, “Where did she get that foot?” My brother called me Big Foot. My great-aunt said, “Oh my God in heaven, what if she grows into those?” This from a woman who was so wide, her butt took up a whole shopping aisle at the CVS. I mean, it isn’t exactly like I came from aristocracy but they thought so, or at least they thought that a slim little petite foot meant that somebody way, way back stepped off the boat in some size fours. I maxed out at a size ten when I was a senior in high school. There they are, full-grown pups, and honey, there isn’t a single shoe on the market that I don’t order and wear. Sometimes I have to order a ten and a half (I firmly believe that this is the result of the Asian influence in this country). I finally got to an age where I could look out at the world and say, “Fine — I am of good solid peasant stock; I am earth woman, working the fields, turning the soil.” I can dig with my hands, and I can dig with my feet. My folks aren’t sitting out on the veranda as much as they’d like to be. They are picking cotton and tobacco leaves, and when they get their tired hot bodies back to the shanties at the edge of the field, then here comes The Mister from the Big House. I know that might sound stupid to you, but the size of my feet made me both tough and subservient. I thought long ago that it could all turn around with me meeting the right person at the right time, but that has yet to happen. You know when I first met Mr. Big, though, I thought it might be happening. Part of the reason I liked him so much that first time is because he talked a lot about you and your son, and he really did seem to care. I even asked him the first The Art & Soul of Greensboro
time we met in a more personal way, you know, didn’t it bother him that he was cheating on you. He said at the time that it was okay because you were cheating on him; I let it be an excuse because he did look pretty cute back then, but I think I knew that you weren’t really having an affair. I mean, you had a one-yearold. Now, I’ve never had a one-year-old but I sure do read enough, and know enough folks who do, that I know the odds of you having time to run around were out of the question. You were probably lucky to get a shower, am I right? He showed me a picture of your son the first night I ever met him — a cute little thing, plump and grinning — but after we started sleeping together he never showed me any more pictures of your boy. Or you for that matter, other than Mr. Big’s Holier Than Thou Church Photo. I should have known to leave him alone right then. I should have said Kiss Off and disappeared. And I’m still not entirely sure why I stayed, except that I was very lonely and I knew that he was safe. I’m still lonely. I know you might think I’m putting too much stock on the size of my feet, but in my mind it is a physical symbol of my difference in my family. They are all over there in the nice warm room lit by firelight, and I’m way off yonder by the barbed-wire fence with snow on my boots while I shiver and peep in. I’ve always felt that way, and therefore, I’m comfortable with it. I used to get hopeful every now and then, but I got over it. And this woman! She is much younger than you are, honey. And she has got boobs such that you could place a cafeteria tray there (man-made, I’m sure). Short skirts. Over the knee boots, I mean, really. Everybody says I have awful taste in clothes, and I do much better than she does. I mean to tell you Mr. Big has hit bottom. Here he had us, two perfectly good-hearted, good-looking women, and he falls for that? If I were you, I might even take precautions against disease. She might be packaged to look clean, but that is one sordid thing. Check her out some time. I have her working schedule at Blockbuster’s, and I know her address and phone number. As a matter of fact I’ve already started in harrassing her for you. Don’t thank me. I’m doing it for me, too. So, I say we bump him off. Real easy. Slip him the poison. Start in small doses and then up it and up it until he’s so sick with what seems to be the flu or some awful stomach problem and then we either choke or smother him, say he did it while trying to be a pig and eat while you weren’t around. If you carry it through, you know, fall completely apart — grieve, rage, mention that hussy whore girlfriend down at Blockbuster, don’t tamper with the will (a document that does not make a single mention of me!), then they’ll believe you, especially when you say that you feel you’ve got to get that man in the ground as quickly as possible. Done. Then you just go on about your business and I go on about mine and they might put Miss Blockbuster in the slammer. Truth is that I don’t have much business and never have. I almost had a baby one time. The daddy was nowhere to be found. Get up and shake the sheets, and he’d blown clean out the window and down the road, never to be heard from again. Well, here came a baby. Everybody kept telling me to get rid of it, but when have I ever done what anybody said to me? Never. So I plodded along, planning. I had lots and lots of plans. But it was a bad joke — a fake baby. No breath, no heartbeat. I looked at it and realized that The Art & Soul of Greensboro
was my life. No breath, no heartbeat. No life for me. I’m a slave girl — a servant. I’m one rung lower than a dog. Mr. Big is too low to be called a dog; that would be an insult to canines everywhere. He didn’t call you back that time. He was never there for me, not that I ever expected it; but what if just once he had been? What if just once somebody had taken better care of me, taken me to a real doctor, gotten some help. And Mr. Big knows that you’ve been feeling down lately, but does Mr. Big care? No. I say we kill him. Oh, but I see doubt in your eyes. I see love, and for that I sure am sorry for you. You better lose that light, honey. Bring him down. Think of Delilah. Cut off his strength and watch him go blind and pull a building down on himself. Sap him while you can. Oh, my, stop crying. Lord. I didn’t come over here for this. You are not the woman I thought you were from that photo in the church book. You looked to me in that picture like a women who could enlist in a complicated plot, but you are a bundle of jumpy weepy nerves. I know that we’d no sooner put Mr. Big down under, but what you’d be confessing and giving out my name. You are a tattletale. You were probably one in school and you’re still one. I still call and hang up on the tattletale from my school, that’s how much I hate a tattletale. Oh, yeah, I can see it all, now. You’re sitting there thinking about how you could nail me. The wife would get it easy. A woman under stress conned by the mistress. You’re crazy if you think I’d fall for that one. I may not have any children to worry over, but I have pride. I have dignity. I have the child I almost had and lots of times that keeps me in line. I imagine where he’d be right now, twelve years old — my son waiting for me to get home so he can complain about what I don’t have in the refrigerator. I tell people, maybe men I might’ve just met, “Oh no, I don’t stay out late. My son will be waiting for me.” Don’ think I don’t know what it feels like. I was pregnant. I had mood swings. I studied all those wonderful little pictures of the fishy-looking baby growing legs like a tadpole — moving from water to land, just that easily. But you have everything for real. You have Mr. Big legally. You are hopeless woman. I’m the one that ought to be crying! Snap to. Listen to some good advice, because in a minute I’ll be out of here. You tell him that you know all about that little bitch he’s been seeing (she works at Blockbuster Video and wears way too much eye make-up). Tell him he better shape his butt up or you are out of here, sister. Make him sweat. I mean I don’t want a thing to do with him, you know? So use me. Call me by name. Tell him I’ll come to your divorce hearing and help you clean up. Get him back if you want him, and make him behave. But don’t let him off easy. Pitch a blue blazing fit. Scream, curse, throw things. Let him have it, honey. Your husband is cheating on us. Let him have it. And when all is said and done, please just forget that I was ever here; that I ever walked the earth. After all, I’m Big Foot. Who knows if I even exist. OH Jill McCorkle is a daughter of Lumberton (NC) and an award-winning author of ten novels and books of short stories. Five of her books have been named Notable Books by the New York Times and four of her short stores appeared in the Best American Short Stories series. Like Lee Smith, her fellow Good Ol’ Girl, Jill is a resident of Hillsborough and a North Carolina treasure. August 2017
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So Bad It’s Good imag ined re ly ul tf ar rs ve co ok bo ed nn ba s Famou
Featuring Thomas Boatwright, Margaret Baxter, R ay Martin and HArry Blair
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he first summer I went away to Boy Scout camp at age 11, I took an internationally banned book along for casual reading. Of course, at the time, I didn’t know it was a famously banned book. It was simply a thick paperback volume from my dad’s overstuffed bookshelf that featured a classical drawing of a nude Aphrodite on its cover. The author had a cool handlebar mustache. I thought it might be about an Englishman’s adventures in the Near East and remember a blurb on the cover that said something to the effect: “The Book that Shocked an Entire Continent.” The title was My Life and Loves, by Frank Harris. In fact, the author was a controversial Irishman and author, newspaper editor, short story writer and social gadfly who railed against censorship and puritanism in all forms. His lurid and engaging 600-page memoir — which was banned in Britain and America for 40 years and first published privately in Paris — related colorful tales about his close friendships with leading politicians and celebrities of the Victorian Age. But it also brought down the ire of the U.S. Postal Service and British and American censors for its explicit depictions of the author’s sexual exploits with willing Victorian Age debutantes. The book, I learned many years later, tainted the otherwise estimable career of Harris, who authored well-respected biographies of Shakespeare, Goethe and his close friend Oscar Wilde, among others. He was also pals with the likes of George Bernard Shaw and Winston Churchill. Needless to say, My Life and Loves was potential dynamite in the hands of an 11-year-old Tenderfoot Scout and would surely have gotten me sent packing before the Friday Mile Swim had anyone known the revealing subject matter contained therein. I remember telling friends it was just a boring book about Greek and Roman mythology. Today My Life and Loves is considered a classic of eroticism and historical reporting. I still own a copy. In this spirit, just for fun — being August and our annual Reading Issue — we invited several talented artists and photographers from our three sister magazines to imagine updated covers for famous banned books of their choosing. As they lavishly prove, even if you can’t judge a book by its cover, you can sure have fun illustrating something that was once considered so bad for you — it’s good.
— Jim Dodson
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Ali c
nd a l r e d n o W n i e
Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
Year Published: 1865 Years Banned: early 1900s, New Hampshire; 1930s, province of Hunan, China; 1960, in various U.S. school systems Why Banned: purported promotion of sexual fantasies and masturbation, and drug use; the Chinese banned it because of the book’s animal characters’ ability to speak human language. Awards/Accolades: An instant publishing sensation, garnering early fans such as Queen Victoria and Oscar Wilde. It has never been out of print.
LEWIS CARROLL Watercolor paper, micron pen, watercolor, ink wash, and colored pencil
With a taste for the macrabre, fantastical and irreverent, Greensborobased cartoonist and illustrator Thomas Boatwright has found a natural fit for his works in children’s books, comic book artwork, role-playing game illustration and Web comic design. Info: boatwright.deviantart.com
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I Know Why the Caged Bird Sing by Maya Angelou;
Year Published: 1969 Years Banned: Frequently banned over the years since its publication from junior high and high school libraries, classrooms and curriculae (It ranked No. 3 on the American Library Association’s list of banned books in 1999 and No. 6 in 2009) Why Banned: sexually explicit scenes, including child rape, use of language and irreverent religious depictions Awards/Accolades: nominated for the National Book Award in 1970; Maya Angelou was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize for her 1971 volume of poetry, Just Give Me a Cool Drink of Water ’fore I Diiie, a Tony Award nomination for her role in the 1973 play Look Away and three Grammy awards for her spoken-word albums. Springarn Medal, 1994; National Medal of the Arts, 2000; Presidential Medal of Freedom, 2011.
Digital — Illustrator and Photoshop
Margaret Baxter has parlayed her childhood passion for drawing into a career illustrating for books, newspapers and magazines, and has won several awards for her work. She lives in a flat near downtown Greensboro. Info: empathbaxter@gmail.com 60 O.Henry
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The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
Year Published: 1939 Years Banned: Off and on since its publication, both nationally and internationally Why Banned: The book was banned and publicly burned for its foul language, sexual explicitness and religious depictions; cited as socialist and communist propaganda. Kern County, California took particular exception to it for its depiction of the community and migrant camps; publicly denounced before Congress by Democratic Rep. Lyle Goren of Oklahoma as “a lie, a black, infernal creation of a twisted, distorted mind.” Its criticism led to the American Library Association’s creation of its own Library Bill of Rights. Awards/Accolades: National Book Award; Pulitzer Prize for fiction; named to Time magazine’s, Le Monde’s and Modern Library’s lists of 100 best English-language novels of the 20th century and The Guardian’s list of Britain’s best-loved books of all time. John Steinbeck was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1962.
Collage, turtle shell, shattered glass, cotton plants, sea salt and beeswax on Depression-era wooden crate The stuff of dreams infuses R ay Martin’s work. The Sandhills native also draws inspiration from “plein air” in his painting and drawing. Martin has exhibited in area galleries and has taught art in secondary schools and colleges in the Carolinas. He has been a professor of Art at Rockingham Community College since 2013. Info: olliveray4@yahoo.com The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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Catcher in the Rye
by J.D. Salinger
Year Published: 1951 Years Banned: 1961–1982, and off and on in the years since Why Banned: Vulgar language, sexual promiscuity, undermining of traditional values, moral codes, encouraging rebellion. Banned from Issaquah, Washington schools in 1978 for being part of “an overall communist plot.” Awards/Accolades: Named one of Time magazine’s 2005 list of 100 best English-language novels written since 1923; included on Modern Library’s list of 100 best English-language novels of the 20th century.
Watercolor
Harry Blair began drawing at the age of 5, and he never looked back — despite his father’s warning that he would need a “real job” after graduating from college. But Blair had heard that people would pay him for “drawing and coloring,” and they did. Nearly 70 years since he picked up his first crayon, Blair has had fun “drawing and coloring” for newspapers, magazines and advertising campaigns. The longtime Greensboro resident has been a contributing editor to O.Henry since the publication of its first issue. Info: harryblair.com 62 O.Henry
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And from the fertile imaginations of our clever book cover artists at sister publications
Salt & PineStraw . . .
Mark Weber
Denise Baker
Wilmington, NC
Whispering Pines, NC
Charlotte Oden
John Gessner
Wilmington, NC
Harry Taylor Wilmington, NC
Aberdeen, NC
Romey Petite Southern Pines, NC
Laurel Holden Southern Pines, NC
Debi Hammack Wilmington, NC
Mojito Mecca Kathy Green’s garden of spirited delights
By Cynthia Adams • Photographs By Amy Freeman
A
sk anyone their idea of the perfect summer cocktail, and more often than not, the whisper of the exotic-sounding “mojito” will tumble from their lips. The zesty, rum-based concoction, which as one devotee allows, “makes you want to Salsa,” owes its roots to clever Cuban mixologists. Food & Wine magazine reports the mojito first appeared in a 1929 Cuban cocktail book titled Libro de Cocktail. If you’re a purist, you can travel to the source (though it’s trickier to do so these days) with a stop at the famed El Floridita, the fish and cocktail bar in the older part of Havana (or La Habana Vieja) that serves up the classic Cuban libation, as well tas its more touted bigger sister, the daiquiri, a favorite of Papa Hemingway. I’ve a well-traveled friend who did just that, but that is a story best told on her dock with something strong in the glass. Yet for those lucky enough to know Greensboro resident Kathy Green, a trek to La Habana Vieja or even a rum run isn’t necessary. A mighty satisfying mojito can be had right in her very own cocktail garden. The space that Green has created offers both colorful and unexpected lush options for a visually striking departure from the standard Cuban classic. Green’s particular version of the
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cocktail requires vodka, flavored water, fresh fruit, limes and good guests — plus a hefty helping of summertime banter and laughter. It all began four summers ago, when friend Ashley Simpson served Green a vodka mojito during a beach trip. Since then, Green has created her own variations on the pleasurable concoction. She likes mixing it up with fresh, tangy ingredients at the ready in the garden. Green even has her own Key Lime citrus tree. When friends drop in on her Irving Park home for drinks, Green simply steps out onto her patio and up to the bar — one fashioned from a rustic potting bench — colorfully set up for cocktails. “I have a little bar indoors. But I found I was always inside tending bar,” says the amateur mixologist. Green wanted to be free to socialize with her guests and decided to innovate, even leaving a recipe card at the bar “so people could make their own.” It liberated hostess and guests to experiment.
T
he classic rum-based version is typically made from five ingredients (white rum, simple syrup, club soda, mint and fresh lime.) But in Green’s hands, variations occur just as organically as the plucked-from-the-garden ingredients. Mint and basil, which flourishes in raised beds, are in easy reach for muddling into the mix. When in season, strawberries, blueberries and blackberries are ripe for picking from Green’s backyard. She credits her gal pal who first served her the vodka-infused beverage as her source of inspiration. “Ashley is so good at creating beverages — she has a great knack for it,” Green says. “And, I’ve always enjoyed having girls over, groups over, so when the patio’s looking pretty, or it’s a great night, or the weather is looking good, I’ll send out some texts. It’s not a real planned out thing, it’s a fun thing with girls when I know a lot of people are together, especially in the summer.” The vodka mojito has become her signature for summertime entertaining. “I always have a bottle of vodka and flavored water. I can grab some limes, berries or mint and can throw something together. You don’t have to run to the grocery store,” Green explains. A boon for anyone juggling work, family, volunteering and summer activities. She has gradually developed her own go-to faves. She loves berries, so they are the basis of her preferred elixir. But Green also finds her guests gravitate towards a tangy, citrusy version, which has the unexpected zing of grapefruit and herb. “I have two different cocktails. I call them my berry mojitos with vodka and the grapefruit basil drink, also with vodka,” says Green. Her mojito menu keeps evolving, as tastes and preferences alter the mix. Green explains that the secret is in the muddle. “I have a muddler, which is a kitchen tool,” she says. (One that looks very much like a pestle.) “With my basil drink, I use a wedge of cut grapefruit, with a basil leaf. Muddle it [all], and add vodka and ice.” For her berry concoction, Green likes to
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mix blackberry and strawberry with mint, all muddled together. “The type or flavor of the Mojito depends upon what I’ve got in the garden,” she says. “Strawberries are in season first, then blackberries. And then, after that, I get blueberries. Right now, the blueberries are just starting to come in.” She muddles in the berries, then adds more for good measure. The more the merrier, she says, “because I love berries.” “I do it on the bottom of the glass,” she says of the muddling process, before making a confession that would, ahem, shake up any bartender: “I sometimes use the bottom of a martini shaker.” Heresy! But to Green’s way of thinking, throw out the rules if you want to have a Barefoot Contessa kind of cocktail party. Which is why, when asked if her recipe calls for one jigger of vodka — or two, or more — Green pauses. The guests dictate the terms. “I add the vodka to the guest’s liking,” she answers. She personally prefers to use two shots —just the right amount to allow her time to sip and enjoy the drink over an evening, as the ice slowly melts and the flavors merge. “You’re putting it into an eight-ounce glass. All that water dilutes the vodka. I can enjoy it with my guests without having to get up and leave them to refresh my drink. With all the insulated glasses today, I can leave a drink out and the ice survives, even overnight,” she says. “Next, I add the flavored water, a carbonated flavored water, [Green likes the Harris Teeter brand], as you don’t need simple syrup required in the classic mojito recipe.” More often than not, Green uses the lime-flavored water, but raspberry and other flavors are also tasty. This little trick not only saves calories but adds more subtle notes The sweetness of the carbonated flavored water adds just enough sweetness, Green says. Perfection in a glass. But no two palates can agree on perfection, where mojitos are concerned. “My friend, who invented the recipe, still likes to use the simple syrup,” Green says. (Simple syrup is a boiled mixture of sugar and water, frequently used in cocktails, particularly mint juleps.) Finally, the grand gesture: the voilà touch that whispers summertime fun. “You can throw a berry on top or a mint leaf as a garnish,” Green suggests. And what about her other signature, the grapefruit mojito? The makings are similar but with a twist. “Cut a wedge of grapefruit; add a basil leaf torn up and muddled with the grapefruit,” Green explains. “To this, I add about two jiggers of grapefruit juice, ice, vodka and lime-flavored water.” Green then fills the water to the top of the glass, with specific measurements not required. And here again, she tailors the amount to suit her guests’ tastes: “If the vodka’s too strong, add water to dilute it. I find the girls sometimes want more grapefruit juice; it becomes a very personal drink. It’s not like a vodka The Art & Soul of Greensboro
tonic (made a very specific way). You personalize it.” As the Green’s dog, Alli, and Lila the cat, one of her rescues, stroll past a rock wall with trailing plantings overhanging the stone pathway, the stage is always set for cocktails on the patio. Flagstone paths meander through the enclosed garden to separate seating areas where friends can sit and chat or just regroup. There are recliners and Adirondack chairs, too, inviting guests to linger with drinks and their thoughts. Pink flowers spill from tall urns, dappled by the shading trees. A fountain flows into a pond stocked with goldfish and Koi. There may not be a banana tree, as you would see in La Habana. But there is everything needed to summon up the good life as re-imagined by the Green family, in their own small slice of heaven, best enjoyed with a sweating mojito in hand, a photo-ready mint sprig right on top. Even if you don’t feel like dancing the Salsa, you’ll definitely want to stay awhile. Go ahead and help yourself to another mojito. The recipe card is right there on the potter’s bench bar — unless, like Kathy Green, you’d rather improvise. It’s summertime, after all, when the livin’ is easy and rules were made to be broken. And if you break a few, we promise not to tell.
Classic Mojito*
8 mint leaves, plus 1 mint sprig for garnish Ice 2 ounces white rum 3/4 ounce fresh lime juice 1 ounce simple syrup 1/2 ounce chilled club soda *Source: Food & Wine magazine Cynthia Adams is a Greensboro-based writer and contributing editor to O.Henry. August 2017
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• Largest private high school in the Triad • Exceptional academic, fine arts & athletic programs • Low student to teacher ratio • Personalized college counseling; 100% acceptance to a college of choice • Over 15,000 hours of service given by the student body to the Triad community each year • Awarded best interscholastic sports program in the state conference • Financial Aid and transportation available
Congratulations Canterbury Class of 2013
Caroline Ferner, left, Page High School Co-Salutatorian, Harvard University Copeland Jones, center, Page High School Valedictorian, UNC Chapel Hill Chandler Simpson, right, Page High School, Morehead-Cain Scholar, UNC Chapel Hill Canterbury’s focus on scholarship, leadership and service prepares graduates to be successful in any high school setting. Over the last 13 years, 18 Canterbury graduates have finished at the top of their high school class. In the last four years, two Canterbury graduates have been named Morehead-Cain Scholars.
www.canterburygso.org
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Summer set lip to earth’s bosom bare, And left the flushed print in a poppy there. — Francis Thompson, 1859–1907
By Ash Alder
Ethereal Wonders
Heat, ma’am! It was so dreadful here, that I found there was nothing left for it but to take off my flesh and sit in my bones. — Sydney Smith, Lady Holland’s Memoir
Berry Good
If ever you’ve stumbled upon a tangle of wild blackberries, perhaps you have felt the sweet stings of freedom that poet Mary Oliver describes in her poem named for this sultry month. You have tasted the “black honey of summer” and have the scratches on your legs and arms to prove it. August conjures the soft thuds of the earliest apples; gifts us with eggplant and sweet corn and towering sunflowers; plucks the season’s first ripe figs or else leaves them for the birds. The air feels like a wet cloth over our mouths and skin. We move in slow motion. We move to the shade. We move indoors, where the fan dances in lazy circles. Heirloom tomatoes are peeled, seeded and chopped for gazpacho. Watermelon is sliced into tidy triangles. The ants that march along the juicy rinds remind us there is work to do: Can or freeze the excess harvest. Stake the vines and prune the shrubs. Prepare the soil for autumn plantings — beets, carrots, peas and greens. But don’t forget to play. When you stumble upon a patch of swollen berries “in the brambles nobody owns,” do as Oliver illustrates. Allow yourself to get lost in the delicious moment. Savor the sweetness of this harvest month.
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
The August sky reveals to us countless wonders. Following the full Green Corn Moon on Monday, Aug. 7, the annual Perseid meteor shower will peak on the night of Saturday, Aug. 12, until the wee hours of Sunday, Aug. 13. Although a waning gibbous moon may compromise the view, it’s possible to see 60 to 100 meteors per hour. Cozy up with the crickets and test your luck. Something you can’t blink and miss: A total eclipse of the sun occurs this year on Monday, Aug. 21. Visible for up to two minutes and 40 seconds along a narrow arc that starts in Oregon and slices across the states to South Carolina, the Great American Total Solar Eclipse will cause eerie bands of light to shimmer across the darkening sky as the sun slips behind the hungry moon. Do wear eye protection for this so-called celestial coincidence, and find maps of the path and more information at www.eclipse2017.org. Prepare to be truly dazzled. North America won’t see anything like it until April 8, 2024.
The Sacred Hazel
According to Celtic tree astrology, those born from Aug. 5 to Sept. 1 draw wisdom from the sacred hazel, a tree whose forked branches have long been used as divining rods, and whose medicinal leaves and bark create a potent astringent. If you’ve any doubt that this tree possesses magical properties, consider that it produces the star ingredient of Nutella (and that said ingredient, the hazelnut, is believed to invoke prophetic visions). But back to humans: Analytical and organized, hazel archetypes are often considered the “know-it-alls” of the zodiac. Although they tend to hum with nervous energy, they seem to get along swimmingly with rowans (Jan. 22 to Feb. 18) and hawthorns (May 13 to June 9). The gladiolus may be the bright and showy birth flower of August, but what says summer like the sunflower? As they follow the sun across the sky, these cheerful giants remind us that we become that which we give our focus. What will you attract this month? OH
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Movie Mania 8/
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August 1 AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 7 p.m. Meet poet Mary Azrael, author of the house no house. Scuppernong Books, 304 S. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 7631919 or scuppernongbooks.com. SCREEN SCENE. 7:30 p.m. Pack up the lawn chairs and picnic blankets for National Night Out — Outdoor Movie Night, featuring a special viewing of Mr. Peabody & Sherman. Historical Park, High Point Museum, 1859 E. Lexington Ave., High Point. Info: (336) 885-1859 or highpointmuseum. org.
August 1–5 STAGECRAFT. It’s back! The biennial National
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And The Beat Goes On 8/
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Black Theatre Festival presents a variety of performances at venues throughout Winston-Salem. Info and Tickets: ncblackrep.org.
August 1–6 LAST CHANCE. See the similarities of artworks across genres at Affinities & Variations. Weatherspoon Art Museum, 500 Tate St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 334-5770 or weatherspoon. uncg.edu. HOPPERS HERE. The Greensboro Grasshoppers are home again. First National Bank Field, 408 Bellemeade St., Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 2682255 or www.milb.com.
Welcome To The Jungle 8/
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August 1–16 MOVIE MANIA. From Viva Las Vegas to The Princess Bride, with The Little Mermaid, Monsters, Inc., My Fair Lady, Glory, Grease and Psycho in between, you can watch a movie on the big screen almost every day of the week. Screening times vary. Carolina Theatre, 310 S. Green St., Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 333-2605 or carolinatheatre.com.
August 1–20 IT’S ALIVE! A still life becomes animated in a video installation by Mexican artist Alejandro Almanza Pereda in Single-Channel Catalyst II. Weatherspoon Art Museum, 500 Tate St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 334-5770 or weatherspoon. uncg.edu. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Arts Calendar
The Royal and Ancient Game 8/
Honeydrippers
14-30
August 1–September 1 IF WALLS COULD TALK. See the installation Articulate by Raleigh artist James Marshall at an outpost of Weatherspoon at Revolution Mill. 1250 Revolution Mill Drive, Greensboro. Info: (336) 3345770 or weatherspoon.uncg.edu.
August 1–September 3 PULP PIECES. Catch Art on Paper 2017: The 44 th Exhibition. Weatherspoon Art Museum, 500 Tate St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 334-5770 or weatherspoon.uncg.edu.
August 1–October 6 AW SHUCKS! 7 p.m. Buy tickets now for some oysters, crab, shrimp, shag dancing to The Embers The Art & Soul of Greensboro
8/
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and a silent auction. The State Capitol Foundation’s Oyster Roast takes place on October 6, to benefit the preservation of the old capitol building. State Capitol grounds, 1 E. Edenton St., Raleigh. Tickets and Info: (919) 733-4994 or ncstatecapitol.org.
August 1–October 15 WHAT’S NEW? Find out at Red-Hot and Newly Acquired: Recent Additions to the Collection. Weatherspoon Art Museum, 500 Tate St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 334-5770 or weatherspoon. uncg.edu.
August 3 AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 7 p.m. Meet Poet Al Maginnes, author of The Next Place. Scuppernong
V-R-R-R-R-R-O-O-O-OM! 8/
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Books, 304 S. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 7631919 or scuppernongbooks.com.
August 4 AND THE BEAT GOES ON. 5:30 p.m. Dance Project presents its annual African Dancing and Drumming Performance, featuring students who’ve mastered the dances and rhythms of West Africa. LeBauer Park, 208 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: danceproject.org. CECI C’EST CECIL. 6 p.m. That’s French for “This here’s Cecil,” as in the Dave Cecil band. Hear American tunes from the N.C.–based group at First Friday. GreenHill, 200 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 333-7460 or greenhillnc.org.
August 2017
O.Henry 71
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August 2017
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Arts Calendar
OUI, OUI! 7 p.m. Heralding their induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, rockers Yes brings their “Yestival” to town, with guests Todd Rundgren and an homage to Emerson Lake and Palmer. Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Tickets: (800) 745-3000 or ticketmaster.com. HIGH-STEPPIN’. 10 p.m. Cut a rug at Pop-Up Dance Club, where DJ Jessica Mashburn spins off-the-chain tunes and beats. Print Works Bistro, 702 Green Valley Road, Greensboro. Info: (336) 379-0699 or printworksbistro.com.
August 5 LOTUS LAND. 9 a.m. Strike a pose at Yoga in the Garden, with instruction from Mindful Bodi Movement. Paul J. Ciener Botanical Garden, 215 S. Main St., Kernersville. Info: (336) 996-7888 or cienerbotanicalgarden.org. DEW OR DIE. 11 a.m. Sisters in Crime presents graphic artist Thomas Dew, who worked for both legal prosecutors and defense attorney on more than 30 murder cases. Catch his demonstrations of courtroom evidence for writers and readers of crime genres. Rancho Family Restaurant 10463 N. Main St., Archdale. Reservations and info: murderwewrite.org.
NASH-VILLE. 8 p.m. Graham isn’t crackers yet. Hear Graham Nash of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. Carolina Theatre, 310 S. Greene St., Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 333-2605 or carolinatheatre.com.
August 5 & 6
August 11 TEE HEE. 7:30 p.m. Golfer David Feherty takes a swing at standup comedy on his “Live-Off” tour. Carolina Theatre, 310 S. Green St., Greensoboro. Ticekts: (336) 333-2605 or carolinatheatre.com.
LESSON PLANS. 10 a.m. and 1 p.m. See the stark differences between education then and now at “Readin’, Writin’, ’Rithmetic,” a demonstration of colonial teaching methods from costumed interpreters. High Point Museum, 1859 E. Lexington Ave., High Point. (336) 885-1859 or highpointmuseum.org.
WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE. 7:30 p.m. Axl, Slash and rest of the gang’s all here, with an appetite for destruction. Yep. The band with the lone apostrophe, Guns N’ Roses, crushes it onstage. BB&T Field, Wake Forest University, 499 Deacon Blvd., Winston-Salem. Tickets: (800) 745-3000 or livenation.com.
August 6
August 12
MUSEP. 6 p.m. and 7:15 p.m. Zinc Kings get their twang on with some Piedmont old time music, followed by Wonderwall, a Beatles tribute band. Latham Park, W. Wendover Ave. at Latham Drive and Cridland Road, Greensboro. Info: musep.info. AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 3 p.m. Meet Elma Hairston, author of Becoming Dynamic. Scuppernong Books, 304 S. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com.
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AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 11 a.m. Meet Children’s author, Joan Illian Anderson, who penned The Great Isabella. Scuppernong Books, 304 S. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com.
August 12 & 13 IRON HAND. 10 a.m. and 1 p.m. The Boss of Iron strikes again! And again and again. The Blacksmith is back. High Point Museum, 1859 E. Lexington Ave., High Point. Info: (336) 885-1859 or highpointmuseum.org.
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August 2017
O.Henry 73
B’nai Shalom Day School
Bishop McGuiness Catholic High School 1725 NC Highway 66 South Kernersville, NC 27284, (336) 564-1010, www.bmhs.us
2900 Horse Pen Creek Road Greensboro, NC 27410, (336) 665-1161, www.caldwellacademy.org
Focus: B’nai Shalom Day School is the Triad’s only infant – 8th grade Jewish independent school. We foster academic excellence, maximize individual student’s potential, and develop leadership skills in a dual curriculum (English and Hebrew). Aftercare and full day option available (7:30 am to 6:00 pm) as well as generous financial aid opportunities. Grades: 8 wks - 8th grade • Enrollment: 90 • Student/Faculty: 8/1 Admission Requirement: On a rolling basis. Meet with Director of Admissions, classroom visit, academic assessment (Pre-K and older), transcripts from current school. Tuition: $4,040-$12,000 (preschool), $2,388-$16,990 (K-8)
Focus: The largest private high school in the Triad. Outstanding high school experience with exceptional academics, extracurricular activities and athletic opportunities. All faiths welcome and financial aid available. Located minutes from downtown Greensboro. Grades: 9-12th • Enrollment: 405 • Student/Faculty: 8/1 Admission Requirement: Admission is on a rolling basis. Please visit www.bmhs.us for an application or call the admissions office at 564-1011 to schedule a campus tour. Tuition: $9,132-$12,588
Focus: A nondenominational Christian school whose classical approach aligns with children’s developmental stages, appropriately challenging them to reach their current potential for learning and to acquire a lifelong love of the learning process. Extended day and variable tuition available. Grades: PreSchool-12th • Enrollment: 830 • Student/Faculty: 9/1 Admission Requirement: Admission is on a rolling basis. Contact our Admissions office to schedule a visit at your convenience. Applications and assessments are ongoing. Tuition: $1,125-$10,915
804-A Winview Drive, Greensboro, NC 27410 (336) 855-5091, www.bnai-shalom.org
Canterbury School
Greensboro Day School
Caldwell Academy
Greensboro Montessori School
5400 Old Lake Jeanette Road, Greensboro, NC 27455 (336) 288-2007, www.canterburygso.org
5401 Lawndale Drive, Greensboro, NC 27455 (336) 288-8590, www.greensboroday.org
2856 Horse Pen Creek Road, Greensboro, NC 27410, (336) 668-0119, www.thegms.org
Focus: A PreK-8 Episcopal School with strong academics and a focus on educating the whole child - mind, body and spirit. Extended day and financial assistance available.
Focus: Guilford County’s premier PreK-12 school nationally recognized for its rigor and 21st century relevance. With a focus on honor, wisdom, community, and respect, our mission is to develop the intellectual, ethical, and interpersonal foundations students need to become constructive contributors to the world.
Focus: Greensboro’s only triply accredited Montessori school where toddlers to teens achieve academic excellence through hands-on, multi-disciplinary learning. Students organically develop real-world skills in leadership, time management, problem solving and social responsibility through Montessori’s innovative approach to education.
Grades: Preschool - 12th grade • Enrollment: 800 • Student/Faculty: 8/1 Admission Requirement: Admission on a rolling basis. Begin accepting applications in the fall for admission to the following school year. For complete details, please visit www.greensboroday.org Tuition: $7,030-$22,500
Grades: Toddler (18 mo) - 9th grade • Enrollment: 235 Student/Faculty: Under 3 years, 6:1; 4 years and above, 10:1 Admission Requirement: Meet with Admissions Director. Classroom visit and teacher assessment (for students age 3 and older). Tuition: $8,628-$16,656
High Point Friends School
Noble Academy
Grades: Preschool - 8th grade • Enrollment: 370 Student/Faculty: 8/1 Admission Requirement: Requirements vary per grade level but include: application, teacher evaluation forms, developmental assessment or classroom visit, transcripts from current school. Tuition: $5,600-$8,000 (preschool), $16,730 (K-8)
High Point Christian Academy
800 Phillips Avenue High Point, NC 27262 (336) 841-8702, www.hpcacougars.org
800-A Quaker Lane High Point, NC 27262 (336) 886-5516, www.hpfs.org
3310 Horse Pen Creek Road Greensboro, NC 27410 (336) 282-7044, www.nobleknights.org
Focus: HPCA provides an academically rigorous environment rooted in a Biblical worldview. We are committed to Christ-centered, quality education and academic excellence in partnership with family and church within a loving, caring atmosphere. Grades: Preschool - 12th grade • Enrollment: 650 Student/Faculty:16/1 Admission Requirement: Admissions is on a rolling basis; inquiries, tours and interviews are on-going. For specific requirements please visit hpcacougars.org. Tuition: $6,550-$9,650
Focus: High Point Friends School instills academic excellence, self-confidence and leadership skills through experiential learning, extracurricular activities, and service learning opportunities for students in Preschool – 8th grade.
Focus: A K-12 independent school that specializes in working with students with an ADHD/LD diagnosis. Strong academics along with athletics, music, art, and drama are offered.
The Piedmont School
Grades: Preschool - 8th grade • Enrollment: 208 Student/Faculty:14/1 Admission Requirement: Admission is based on academic records, placement testing, and teacher recommendations. A classroom visitation is also required prior to admittance. Tuition: $1,915-$6,125 (Preschool); $9,794 (Lower); $10,454 (Middle)
Grades: K - 12th grade • Enrollment: 160 Student/Faculty:8/1 Admission Requirement: Students need to have an average to above average IQ score and a diagnosis of ADHD and/ or learning difference (we recognize CAPD) and a current psych-ed evaluation. Admission on a rolling basis. Tuition: K - $14,000, Grades 1-12 - $19,930 - $20,790
815 Old Mill Road High Point, NC 27265 (336) 883-0992, www.thepiedmontschool.com
2200 N. Elm Street Greensboro, NC 27408 (336) 273-9865, www.spxschool.com
St. Pius X Catholic School
Westchester Country Day School 2045 N. Old Greensboro Road High Point, NC 27265, (336) 869-2128, www.westchestercds.org
Focus: A wonderful K-12 independent school dedicated to providing an outstanding educational environment for students with an ADHD/LD diagnosis. Strong academics enhanced by music, art, drama, and athletics. Grades: K - 12th grade • Enrollment: 85-90 Student/Faculty: 6:1 word study, language arts, math. 12:1 all other subjects. Admission Requirement: Enrollment is on a rolling basis. Requirements include an average to above average IQ, and either an ADHD diagnosis or another diagnosed learning disorder. Tuition: K-12th $18,038. NC grants available.
Focus: Catholic elementary school serving Pre-K through 8th grade, emphasizing Christian values and academic excellence in a nurturing environment. Grades: PK - 8th grade • Enrollment: 456 Student/Faculty: 15:1 Admission Requirement: K-8 applicants must participate in a standardized assessment conducted by ABC Educational Services, Inc. Please visit www.spxschool.com for more information or contact the admissions office at 336-273-9865 to schedule a campus tour. Tuition: $5,620 - $8,712
Focus: Westchester Country Day is a college preparatory school teaching and guiding students in grades PK-12 to strive for excellence in moral and ethical conduct, academics, the arts, and athletics. Grades: PK - 12th grade • Enrollment: 420 Student/Faculty: 16:1 Admission Requirement: Admissions is on a rolling basis. Please visit www.westchestercds.org for more details or call the admissions office at (336) 822-4005 to schedule a tour. Tuition: $2,625 - $17,990
74 O.Henry
August 2017
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Arts Calendar August 13
August 17
August 19–26
WINGIN’ IT. 2 p.m. Flock together with other birds of a feather at a meet-and-greet of the T. Gilbert Audubon Society. Scuppernong Books, 304 S. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com.
LOVETT OR LEAVE IT. 8 p.m. Lyle Lovett and His Large Band deliver some big sounds. Carolina Theatre, 310 S. Greene St., Greensboro. (336) 3332605 or carolinatheatre.com.
ACES! Watch some tennis “served up Southernstyle” at the Winston-Salem Open. Wake Forest Tennis Complex, 100 W. 32nd St., Winston-Salem. Tickets: winstonsalemopen.com.
MUSEP. 6:30 p.m. Greensboro Concert Band keeps it classy-cal. Lindley Park, Starmount Drive at West Market Street and Wendover Avenue, Greensboro. Info: musep.info.
August 19
August 19–February 11
THE TIME MACHINE. 8 a.m. Take a tour of the historically black entertainment and business district around Washington Street with Glenn Chavis. Changing Tides Cultural Center, 613 Washington St., High Point. Info: (336) 885-1859 or highpointmuseum.org.
TIME AND SPACE. Talk about abstract! Check out For All Time: Interpretations of the Fourth Dimension from the Collection. Weatherspoon Art Museum, 500 Tate St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 3345770 or weatherspoon.uncg.edu.
August 14–30 THE ROYAL AND ANCIENT GAME. Follow your favorite pros at the Wyndham Championship. Sedgefield Country Club, 3201 Forsyth Drive, Greensboro. Tickets: wyndhamchampionship.com.
August 15–21 HOPPERS HERE. The Greensboro Grasshoppers are home again. First National Bank Field, 408 Bellemeade St., Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 2682255 or www.milb.com.
TIME AND AGAIN MACHINE. 11 a.m. Learn more African-American history with historian Phyllis Bridges. Oakwood Municipal Cemetery, 512 Steele St., High Point. Info: (336) 885-1859 or highpointmuseum.org. HONEYDRIPPERS. 9 a.m. Join Guilford County Extension Master Gardeners and Bee Keepers at a — heh! — stingalong otherwise known as Bee Friendly to Bees Day. Extension Demonstration Garden, 3309 Burlington Road, Greensboro. Info: (336) 641-2400 or guilford.ces.ncsu.edu.
August 20 MUSEP. 6 p.m. and 7:15 p.m.. Warren, Bodle and Allen get folksy while The Radials bring some Americana and country to Country Park. Shelter 7 (please park in the Jaycee Park Parking Lot), Greensboro. Info: musep.info.
August 22 L&S. 7 p.m. That would be two indie bands, Lifehouse and Switchfoot. Try saying that fast 10 times without saying “lighthouse, “lightfoot” or “switchblade.” White Oak Amphitheatre, Greensboro Coliseum Complex. 1921 Gate City
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336.999.8295 August 2017
O.Henry 75
Arts Calendar
Blvd., Greensboro. Tickets: (800) 745-3000 or livenation.com.
August 24 THIS BUDDY’S FOR YOU. 8 p.m. Nothin’ you can do can turn us away from our Guy — bluesman Buddy Guy, that is. Carolina Theater 310 S. Greene St., Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 333-2605 or carolinatheatre.com.
August 26 V-R-R-R-R-R-O-O-O-OM! 10 a.m. The rubber meets the road with a cruise-in from local race car driver, the unveiling of historical markers for the High Point Speedway and Tri-City Speedway, and a panel discussion on the history of stock car racing. High Point Museum, 1859 E. Lexington Ave., High Point. Info: (336) 885-1859 or highpointmuseum.org. AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 3 p.m. Meet cookbook author Nancie McDermott, who wrote Fruit (Savor the South). Scuppernong Books, 304 S. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com.
Author Author
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August 27
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August 30 AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 7 p.m. Meet novelist Dawn Reno Langley, author of The Mourning Parade. Scuppernong Books, 304 S. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com.
August 31 AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 7 p.m. Meet novelist Holly Goddard Jones, author of The Salt Line. Scuppernong Books, 304 S. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com
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at
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August 2017
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78 O.Henry
August 2017
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Join the effort. Visit www.triadlocalfirst.com.
shops • service • food • farms WEEKLY HAPPENINGS Mondays BUZZING. 10 a.m. Your busy little bees engage in a Busy Bees preschool program focusing on music, movement, garden exploration and fun in the kitchen, at the Greensboro Children’s Museum, 220 N. Church St., Greensboro. Preregistration: (336) 574-2898 or gcmuseum.com. CHAT-EAU. Noon. French leave? Au contraire! Join French Table, a conversation group. Scuppernong Books, 304 S. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com.
Tuesdays READ ALL ABOUT IT. Treat your little ones to story times: BookWorms (ages 12–24 months) meets at 10 a.m.; Time for Twos meets at 11 a.m. Storyroom; Family Storytime for all ages meets at 6:30 p.m. High Point Public Library, 901 N. Main St., High Point. Info: (336) 883-3666 or highpointpubliclibrary.com. PINT-SIZED GARDENERS. 3:30 p.m. Instill a love of gardening and growing edible things in
SYNERGY
support locally owned businesses
your kiddies at Little Sprouts (ages 3 to 5 years). Greensboro Children’s Museum, 220 N. Church St., Greensboro. To register: (336) 574-2898 or gcmuseum.com. PICKIN’ AND GRINNIN’ 6 until 9 p.m. Y’all come for Songs from a Southern Kitchen, featuring Abigail Dowd & Jason Duff (8/1); Sam Frazier & Eddie Walker (8/8); The Meldavians (8/15); Emily Stewart & Hannah Samet (8/22); Molly McGinn, Dave Willis & Brent Buckner (8/29). 1421 Westover Terrace, Greensboro. Info: (336) 370-0707 or lucky32.com/greensboro_music.htm.
Wednesdays TO MARKET, TO MARKET. 8 a.m. until 1 p.m. The produce will be fresh and the cut fleurs belles at the Greensboro Farmers Curb Market, 501 Yanceyville St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 373-2402 or gsofarmersmarket.org. CREATIVE KIN. 5 to 7 p.m. Moms, dads, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins: Enjoy a free evening of artistic expression at ArtQuest.
Arts Calendar
GreenHill, 200 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: 336) 333-7460 greenhillnc.org. MUSSELS, WINE & MUSIC 7 until 10 p.m. Mussels with house-cut fries for $15, wines from $10–15 a bottle and live music by AM rOdeO — at Print Works Bistro, 702 Green Valley Road, Greensboro. Info: (336) 379-0699 or printworksbistro.com/live_music.htm. ONCE UPON A TIME. 2 p.m. Afterschool Storytime convenes for children of all ages. Storyroom, High Point Public Library, 901 N. Main St., High Point. Info: (336) 883-3666 or highpointpubliclibrary.com.
Thursdays TWICE UPON A TIME. 11 a.m. Preschool Storytime convenes for children ages 3–5. Storyroom, High Point Public Library, 901 N. Main St., High Point. Info: (336) 883-3666 or highpointpubliclibrary.com. ALL THAT JAZZ. 5:30 until 8 p.m. Hear live, local jazz featuring Dave Fox Neill Clegg and Matt Kendrick and special guests: Sarah Strable (8/3); Jessica Mashburn (8/10); Sheila Duell (8/17);
HILARY CLEMENT Acrylic SANDY DUNCAN Wood Working JOYCE SNYDER Ceramics
OPENING RECEPTION: Friday, August 11 | 5:30-8:30PM Irving Park Art &Frame 2105-A West Cornwallis Drive • Greensboro, NC
| 336.274.6717
If you are a Triad Local First member and would like to advertise on this page, please call 336.601.1188 The Art & Soul of Greensboro
August 2017
Join the effort. Visit www.triadlocalfirst.com.
O.Henry 79
Arts Calendar Angela Bingham (8/24); Howard Eaton (8/31). All performances are at the O.Henry Hotel Social Lobby Bar. No cover. 624 Green Valley Road, Greensboro. Info: (336) 854-2000 or www.ohenryhotel.com/jazz.htm. JAZZ NIGHT. 7 p.m. Fresh-ground, freshbrewed coffee is served with a side of jazz at Tate Street Coffee House, 334 Tate St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 275-2754 or www.tatestreetcoffeehouse.com. OPEN MIC COMEDY. 8–9:35 p.m. Local pros and amateurs take the mic at the Idiot Box, 2134 Lawndale Drive, Greensboro. Info: (336) 274-2699 or idiotboxers.com.
Fridays THE HALF OF IT. 5 p.m. Enjoy the hands-on exhibits and activities for half the cost of admission at $5 Fun Fridays ($2 on First Fridays). Greensboro Children’s Museum, 220 N. Church St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 574-2898 or gcmuseum.com.
Fridays & Saturdays NIGHTMARES ON ELM STREET. 8 p.m. A 90-minute, historical, candlelit ghost walking tour
of Downtown Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 905-4060 or carolinahistoryandhaunts.com/information.
Lawndale Drive, Greensboro. Info: (336) 2742699 or idiotboxers.com.
Saturdays
Sundays
TO MARKET, TO MARKET. 7 a.m. until noon. The produce is fresh and the cut fleurs belles. Greensboro Farmers Curb Market, 501 Yanceyville St., Greensboro. Info: gsofarmersmarket.org.
HALF FOR HALF-PINTS. 1 p.m. And grownups, too. A $5 admission, as opposed to the usual $10, will allow you entry to exhibits and more. Greensboro Children’s Museum, 220 N. Church St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 574-2898 or gcmuseum.com.
THRICE UPON A TIME. 11 a.m. Hear a good yarn at Children’s Storytime. Scuppernong Books, 304 S. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com. JAZZ ENCORE. 6:30 p.m. Hear contemporary jazz cats, Lauren Machos (8/5); The Penn Family (8/12); Roberto Orihuela Quartet (8/19); and The Meldavians, featuring Melissa Reaves (8/26) and enjoy seasonal tapas at O.Henry Jazz series for Select Saturdays. O.Henry Hotel, 624 Green Valley Road, Greensboro. Info: (336) 854-2000 or ohenryhotel.com. IMPROV COMEDY. 10 p.m. on Saturday, plus an 8 p.m. show appropriate for the whole family. The Idiot Boxers create scenes on the spot and build upon the ideas of others, creating shows that are one-of-a-kind — at the Idiot Box, 2134
MISSING YOUR GRANDMA? 3 p.m. Until it’s gone, tuck into Chef Felicia’s skillet-fried chicken, and mop that cornbread in, your choice, giblet gravy or potlikker. Lucky 32 Southern Kitchen, 1421 Westover Terrace, Greensboro. Info: (336) 370-0707 or lucky32.com/fried_chicken.htm.
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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August 2017
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
B L U E R I D G E P A R K WAY • F L OY D , V I R G I N I A August 2017
O.Henry 83
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Introducing Dr. Katelyn Cobb, Veterinarian
1052 Grecade St. • GreenSboro, nc 27408 Conveniently located in Midtown
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84 O.Henry
August 2017
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Where Business and Law Meet ChelSea e. ANdeRSON Attorney
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We at Connors Morgan serve our clients by adhering to our values of excellence, integrity and dedication to service.
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1175 Revolution Mill Drive, Suite 8 Greensboro, NC 27405
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Chelsea practices primarily in the area of family law. She helps individuals in matters relating to separation, divorce and adoptions, including spousal support (post-separation support and alimony), child custody, and child support.
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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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ASHMORE RARE COinS & MEtAlS Since 1987
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
2201 Patterson Street, Greensboro, NC (2 Blocks from the Coliseum) Mon. - Fri.: 9:30am - 5:30 pm Sat. 10 am - 2 pm • Closed Sunday
• 30 years as a major dealer of Gold, Silver, and Coins • Most respected local dealer for appraising and buying Coin Collections, Gold, Silver, Diamond Jewelry and Sterling Flatware • Investment Gold, Silver, & Platinum Bullion
Visit us: www.ashmore.com or call 336-617-7537 5725 W. Friendly Ave. Ste 112 • Greensboro, NC 27410 Across the street from the entrance to Guilford College
August 2017
O.Henry 85
Richard Fennell, House at Damascus, 2000, oil on canvas, 40 x 48 inches
PAINTING DEMONSTRATION & TALK BY RICHARD FENNELL WED. AUG 16, 2017 | 6:00– 7:00 PM | Free & open to the public.
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86 O.Henry
August 2017
To advertise here, call 336.601.1188
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
GreenScene
Mattie Winstead, Shirlene Lynch
Guilford Go Red For Women Luncheon &Expo American Heart Association Monday, May 15, 2017
Photographs by Lynn Donovan
Kimberly Roberts Ashley Foster, Dawn Miller
Garet Beane, Hollan Anderson
Alisha Davis, Gwen Lewis, Pamela Gaddy, Mary Lou Blakeney, B.J. Gerald-Covington
Kim Childester, Sherah Lowe
Amanda Marks, Rasheeda Brown, Jennifer Lopez, Tomvet Madkins
Kendall Einbinder, Erin Mixon, Stephanie McCord, Kerri Shellman
Cynthia Watson, Josephine Stokes
Brenda Herbin, Patricia Settle, Julie Bryant
Sadie Dent, Rita Edwards
Sharal Stokes, Janice Alston, B.J. Gerald-Covington
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
August 2017
O.Henry 87
“Marsh”
16”x20”
Pastel on Board
Music Nurtures the
Body, Mind, & Soul Join The Music Academy Community! All are welcome. Private Lessons • Group Classes In-house Performances • Community Outreach Competitions • Adult Education In-school Programming • Much, Much More!
Fall Term begins August 28 • Discounts Available
www.MusicAcademyNC.org 1327 Beaman Place, Greensboro, NC • 336.379.8748
88 O.Henry
August 2017
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
GreenScene
Derrick Sides, Larry Spada, Brooke Sides, Laurel Spada
Maria Johnson, Regina Schamberger
Chair Affair
The Barnabas Network Thursday, June 1, 2017
Photographs by Lynn Donovan Taylor Collins, Sara Kinlaw, J.D. Gaiyon
Ralph & Ruth Edwards
Lindsay Burkart, Derrick Sides, Charlotte Quinn
Sydney Gingrow, Beatrice Schall Mac & Nancy Moore
Jim & Kate Schlosser
Jane Matteson, Nonie Penland
Gibby Waltzkin
Sunny Gravely
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Tommy Poston, Lindsay & Buck Burkart
Love Crossling
August 2017
O.Henry 89
Arts & Culture
C.P. LOGAN
Classes, Commissions, Party Classes “Beaune, France” • 31”x31” • original oil • connie P. logan
online Classes
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GreenScene
Joyce Pichman, Brenda Madden
Women’s Professional Forum 40th Anniversary
Retro Fashion Show ~ “Dressed for Success” Wednesday, June 14, 2017 Photographs by Lynn Donovan
Patsy Wiggins, Kate Black, Linda Mortenson, Dee Blake
Penny Whiteheart, Chandra Cherry
Pat Soenksen, Mona Edwards, Effie Varitimidis Fileta Donnell, Treanna Bowling
Kathi Dubel, Arlene Cash, Charlotte Hamlin
Paula Pile, Sarah Shoffner
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August 2017
O.Henry 91
GreenScene The Range Bucket List by Jim Dodson Reading & Signing at Scuppernong Thursday, June 22, 2017 Photographs by Lynn Donovan
Wendy & Jim Dodson
Caroline Wall, Jason McMasters
David Claude Bailey, Brian Lampkin Ann Harvey, Robin Anders
Janet Owens, Bill Finey, Betty Morrow
John Martin, Wheeler Anderson David & Mimi Williams
Charlie & Kit Rodenbough Beth Rendely, John Peeler
Dot Sowerby, Margaret Underwood
Bill Magnum, Don Adams
Amy & Peter Freeman
92 O.Henry
August 2017
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Provincetown
6 Oa k G l e n C O u rt GreenSBOrO Prestigious Provincetown! Stunning 2-story Transitional home with 5 Bedroom, 5.5 Baths. Master Bedroom on main level with Master Bath updated in 2013. 2-story Great Room with skylights. Gorgeous back yard with stream, pond & gardens. 3-car garage. Lots of storage. Priced to sell.
Old Irving Park
1101 SunSet Drive GreenSBOrO Irving Park brick home that was built with serenity and family comfort in mind. Situated overlooking the golf course, 5 BR, 5 full BAs, 2 half BAs, Master BR on main level, open floor plan and custom built details. Bonus room, covered Porch, screened Porch. 3rd level wired & plumbed to finish if desired. Attached 2-car garage.
Chesnutt - Tisdale Team Xan Tisdale 336-601-2337
Kay Chesnutt 336-202-9687
Xan.Tisdale@bhhsyostandlittle.com Kay.Chesnutt@bhhsyostandlittle.com ©2017 BHH Affiliates, LLC. An independently operated subsidiary of HomeServices of America, Inc., a Berkshire Hathaway affiliate, and a franchisee of BHH Affiliates, LLC. Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices and the Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices symbol are registered service marks of HomeServices of America, Inc.® Equal Housing Opportunity.
everyone needs A
NEIGHBORHOOD
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Positano’s has been proud to bring a little bit of Italy to Greensboro and Asheboro. With our generations of traditional Italian family recipes and the freshest foods available, we are sure that you will have the most enjoyable dining experience possible.
Tuesday-Thursday 11-10 Friday-Saturday 11-11 Sunday 11:30-10 Monday Closed
3 3 6 . 2 8 8 . 4 9 0 0 The Art & Soul of Greensboro
•
Food & Dining
ItalIan
PASTA | SEAFOOD | CHICKEN & MORE TARGET SHOPPING CENTER ON LAWNDALE
w w w. p o s i ta n o. c c August 2017
O.Henry 93
MERIDITHMARTENS
state of the ART • north carolina
6792 Meadow View Drive ~ The Farm at Summerfield ~
Biscuitville moves to Greensboro • Prints from Original Art • 12” x 16” • $125
FABULOUS custom home in the desirable Farm at Summerfield! Custom built by Ingold Builders with exceptional attention to detail! Large private estate lot on cul-de-sac. Luxury Master Suite on the main level. Gourmet kitchen!
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Karen Jobe
f MeridithMartens.Artist • 910.692.9448
336-430-6552
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custom engraving corporate recognition giFts • tropHies • pLAQues AnD mucH more! We have a variety of special gifts and can engrave most any personal item. Stop by and see us!
2172 Lawndale Drive Lawndale Shopping Center - Rear Level
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When You Make a Purchase, You Make a Smile. DELANCEYSTREETMOVERS Donate. Shop. Make a Difference. 3610 N. Elm St - 2100 N. Elm - 307 W. Gate City blvd www.SalvationArmyofGreensboro.org
94 O.Henry
August 2017
81 1 N Elm St, GrEENSbo ro, NC 27401 (336) 379- 8477 | delanceystreetfoundation.org
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
The Accidental Astrologer
Lordy, Leo! Sun-ruled lions enter a creative phase
By Astrid Stellanova
Star Children like Alfred Hitchcock,
Ben Affleck, J.Lo and former President Barack Obama just go to prove that Leos have more than feline grace going for them. Whatever they choose to do, those born under Leo like to lead. Simple fact is, we would all like to be a Leo at least once — most especially now. As the summer heats up, chill out. August has nearly everybody fussing about either somebody who wronged them or somebody they’d like to hit with an anvil. Take a chill pill and stop hollering. — Ad Astra, Astrid
Leo (July 23–August 22) No lie, Child, this is a mighty fine year for your birth sign. Among other things, times are especially fine for creative projects and any ideas you hatch, match or dispatch. Many of us have wondered about (and envied) your special brand of magic. Birthday Baby, if you finally decide to write that tell-all you have been pondering, this is the perfect time to park yourself at the computer and get going. It is time to take a leap of faith. Everybody who knows you wants your Leo happiness, which is something that you can take straight to the bank. Virgo (August 23–September 22) Check the engine light, Sugar. You got overheated and are about to bust a hose. This red light is a warning. It does not mean you open up the throttle, but just the opposite. Put it in idle or coast down the road. What happened may not have been fair, but you will have to muddle on and not go hunting justice if you want peace. Libra (September 23–October 22) OK, you won. But just look in the mirror, Honey. It’s like you’ve been on a forced march, judging by your expression. Take some time to consider that you won the battle and don’t let one little peevish problem cause you so dang much frustration. It ain’t nothing but a little ole distraction. Scorpio (October 23–November 21) Was THAT your Kumbaya moment? Lord help us! Try again, Sugar, to reconnect with some people who are in a position to help. There is something you desperately want, and if you play nicely with others, it is in your reach. Meanwhile, it is possible you may need to reconsider the end goal. Sagittarius (November 22–December 21) It’s nobody’s beeswax what you’ve been up to, Sweetheart. Don’t tell. Actually, puhleese don’t tell. You have a very strong instinct about something and you’ve been listening to your inner voice. It won’t lead you wrong, but most people just cannot understand the nature of your private obsession. Not yet, anyhow. Capricorn (December 22–January 19) You nearly fell out over what ought to be a happy surprise. Only slowly did you figure it all out. Now that you have, bask in the sunshine. There is something in the road that ain’t nothing but a little old speed bump. If you slow down and remember this is what mud flaps are for, ain’t no way any mud will to stick to you. Aquarius (January 20–February 18) You ticked off somebody close to you and never even knew it. They’ve been chewThe Art & Soul of Greensboro
ing that bone over. And over. If you feel like hollering about how unjust it is, just drink an RC Cola. Then move on down the road and let them figure it all out. By the time you meet up again, you will both be in a better place, Sweet Thing. Pisces (February 19–March 20) A mysterious stranger is returning to close a chapter in your life. It is only significant because they need the closure even more than you do. Sweetie Pie, sometimes we get a chance to do someone a big old kindness, and the only reward is good karma. This is the case for you; score some celestial points. Aries (March 21–April 19) Shew we, Baby! Did you really mean to confess what you did? Nobody expects you to be tight-lipped, but I’m glad I ain’t your lawyer. If you really want to dazzle others, the best thing to do is to shut up. You have a lot of social power, and don’t dilute it by telling everything you know and everything you thought you knew. Take a time out before somebody puts Baby in the corner. Taurus (April 20–May 20) Life ain’t a reality show. You’re fixin’ to gum up the works by climbing on the roof with a bullhorn to tell the whole world something that you got going on — or wish you did — or think you saw. Get at least one of those feet off the ladder and take a deep breath. What you are convinced happened may not have. At least wait for confirmation before you blow somebody’s cover, Rambo. Gemini (May 21–June 20) You got a parking ticket, but the way you’ve been carrying on has everyone thinking you’ve been thrown into the lion’s den, just like Daniel. Seriously? As you were wailing about that misfortune to one and all, you missed at least two opportunities. This month holds more good fortune than bad, and a very smart move, Honey Bun, is to recognize that you are the lucky one. Cancer (June 21–July 22) You were born naked, screaming and afraid, just like the rest of us, Honey. Just look at how far you have come, but still frustrated! A rock that moves does not get fuzzy stuff on it, right? Or is it that a rolling stone gathers no moss? You keep moving forward and you still find yourself in the exact right spot this month. Time out is what is needed, and time to detach. OH For years, Astrid Stellanova owned and operated Curl Up and Dye Beauty Salon in the boondocks of North Carolina until arthritic fingers and her popular astrological readings provoked a new career path. August 2017
O.Henry 95
O.Henry Ending
Journey of a Lifetime
By Bailey Jordan
This month the Wynd-
ham Championship returns to Greensboro. Founded in 1938 as the Greater Greensboro Open, or as locals came to call it, the GGO, this professional golf tournament has brought the game’s greatest players right into our backyard. This year’s contest (August 14–20), returns to Sedgefield Country Club for the 10th consecutive year. Sedgefield, where the tournament was played several other times over the years, was designed by legendary golf course architect Donald Ross.
Each and every year, the tournament brings back fond memories of different stages in my life. My parents moved to Greensboro in 1962 in a package deal. My dad (William) would be the new minister of music at West Market Street United Methodist Church downtown. My mom (Rose Marie) would be its new organist. My dad took up the game in his early 30s and got hooked. I came along in 1963 and under Dad’s tutelage, I was holding a club by the time I was 8. Mom still says I learned to read in order to study the sports page of the Greensboro Daily News and discuss it with Dad at night. My first recollection of the GGO was in the early ’70s. The likes of Sam Snead, Billy Casper, Arnold Palmer and Gary Player were still tournament regulars. My on-course hangout was the Par-3, 12th hole (now played as the third). One of Dad’s choir members was Helen Alspaugh. She and her husband Laurence lived on the 12th hole, so Dad had a coveted “residence pass” to park at their house. The Alspaughs were wonderful hosts. Their house was a constant buzz of people coming and going, but cleared out when someone would shout, “Here come’s Arnie’s Army!” referring to the crowd that followed Arnold Palmer. A standout year was 1973, when a Puerto Rican golfer named Juan Antonio “Chi-Chi” Rodriguez won the tournament trophy. He was one of my favorites. I especially rooted for his putts to roll in, whereupon he would go into his “bullfighting dance” and “sword show,” using his putter. Chi-Chi was inducted into the World Golf Hall of Fame in 1992. I also distinctly remember the year 1975. Joe Inman, Grimsley High School and Wake Forest University graduate and three-time All-American, was playing the 12th hole when his tee shot landed left of the green — right at my feet. When
96 O.Henry
August 2017
he arrived at his ball, he asked, “Is everyone OK?” Someone spoke up and said, “You splashed mud on that kid.” After making a tricky up-and-down for par, he walked over, apologized and gave me the ball. What a nice gesture and what a thrill! I carried that ball in my golf bag for a while, but during a round while visiting my grandmother over the summer in southeast Missouri, I thought I needed some good luck. So I put Joe’s ball in play. It didn’t take long before my newfound luck ran out: I sliced that ball deep into a soybean field (Sorry about that, Joe!). I also remember when Don Knotts invited me inside the ropes in 1975 to walk up the first fairway with him. What a treat. I still have his autograph. When the GGO moved to Forest Oaks Country Club in 1977, I was quick to volunteer for the gallery control. Sitting up close to the world’s greatest players and eating Maid-Rite sandwiches for free was a pretty good deal for a 14-year-old. I continued volunteering and attending the GGO over the years. My big break came in 1994 when my friend Mitchell Paul introduced me to the assistant general chairman of the tournament, Stanhope Johnson. Stanhope needed a treasurer for his upcoming year as general chairman. I joined the Greensboro Jaycees and served on the GGO executive committee for five years. I was proud of the work we did, funds we raised and charity dollars we gave back to the community. The best part of it all through was meeting my future wife, Cathy. She was a Jaycee and tournament volunteer. While it was sad tearing down the course for the final time at Forest Oaks in 2007, a new door opened . . . the GGO returning to Sedgefield. The past three years have been a family affair. My wife heard about the need for volunteers for The First Tee of the Triad, an organization that uses the game of golf to teach kids (ages 7–18) essential character traits and valuable life skills. She contacted Mike Barber, president and CEO, and asked how we could help. It was an opportunity for our son, Nathan, who recently took up the game, to volunteer with the Tesori Family Foundation All-Star Kids Clinic at Grandover resort during the week of the Wyndham Championship. Started by Paul Tesori, the foundation helps those in need, with a particular focus on children with special needs. Paul’s full-time job is caddying for Webb Simpson on the PGA Tour. Nathan’s involvement over the past three years has been a rewarding experience that has resulted in a friendship with Paul and his family. As my family looks ahead to this year’s Wyndham Championship and AllStar Kids Clinic, I can truly say it has been — and continues to be — the journey of a lifetime. I’ve gained far more out of my relationship with the wonderful event than I’ve put into it. It’s been worth every moment. See you on-course. OH Bailey Jordan is a Greensboro native and lifelong GGO fan. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
ILLUSTRATION BY HARRY BLAIR
Fond memories of our hometown golf tournament
300 30
2
student musicians captivating performances awe-inspiring nights
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Collage: Atlantic Crossings Greensboro Sept. 9, 7:30 p.m. UNCG Auditorium Raleigh Sept. 16, 8 p.m. Meymandi Concert Hall
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