September O.Henry 2024

Bridal gown care that goes above and beyond.

New seasons. New wonders. New friends.

COME EXPERIENCE FALL AT FRIENDS HOMES

and see why joining the waiting list now gives you so much more to look forward to for your future.

Our fall tours, lunches and events are in full swing, creating delightful opportunities to see what life on campus is all about. Tour the updated amenities, state-of-the-art wellness center, fabulous dining choices, thriving campus trails and gardens. But most importantly, experience the welcoming, friendly residents and staff that make our community unique.

You’ll also see how to get priority access to available apartments, townhomes and cottages that are right-sized to fit your active lifestyle. So when you’re ready to make your move, your Friends Homes residence can be ready for you.

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When you bank with TowneBank, you won’t just have a relationship with a bank – you’ll have a friendship with a banker. At Towne, you’ll know your banker and you’ll know you can reach us.

You’ll know we’re here for you.

September 2024

FEATURES

51 Static Apnea By

52 Who the Folk? By Billy Ingram

The N.C. Folk Fest celebrates a decade with a worldly line-up

58 Meet the Makers By Cassie Bustamante

After a five-year hiatus, Westerwood’s art walk and studio tour returns

62 Nights at The Opera By Ross Howell Jr.

Director David Holley tells timeless stories on the stage

68 Collection and Collaboration By Cynthia Adams

The Griffith Fine Art museum at Red Oak Brewery

72 The Gathering Barn By Cassie Bustamante

A family creates a haven for togetherness and healing

81 September Almanac By Ashley Walshe

DEPARTMENTS

Volume 14, No. 9

“I have a fancy that every city has a voice.” www.ohenrymag.com

PUBLISHER

David Woronoff david@thepilot.com

Andie Rose, Creative Director andiesouthernpines@gmail.com

Cassie Bustamante, Editor cassie@ohenrymag.com

Jim Dodson, Editor at Large jwdauthor@gmail.com

Keith Borshak, Senior Designer

CONTRIBUTING EDITORS

Cynthia Adams, David Claude Bailey, Maria Johnson

CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS

Lynn Donovan, Amy Freeman, John Gessner, Bert VanderVeen, Mark Wagoner

CONTRIBUTORS

Harry Blair, Anne Blythe, Susan Campbell, Jasmine Comer, Ross Howell Jr., Billy Ingram, Gerry O’Neill, David C. Partington, Liza Roberts, Stephen E. Smith, Zora Stellanova, Ashley Walshe, Amberly Glitz Weber

ADVERTISING SALES

Lisa Allen

336.210.6921 • lisa@ohenrymag.com

Amy Grove

336.456.0827 • amy@ohenrymag.com

Brad Beard, Graphic Designer

Jennifer Bunting, Advertising Coordinator ohenrymag@ohenrymag.com

Henry Hogan, Finance Director

910.693.2497

Darlene Stark, Subscriptions & Circulation Director 910.693.2488

OWNERS

Jack Andrews, Frank Daniels III, David Woronoff

In memoriam Frank Daniels Jr.

A Trance Encounter . . .

With a self-proclaimed Tori Amos “stalkeress”

By Cassie Bustama Nte

Whenone of my favorite musical acts from my teen years announced a nearby tour stop last year, I quickly snagged two tickets. Tori Amos, piano virtuoso and singer-songwriter known for her powerful, thought-provoking ballads, released her solo debut album, Little Earthquakes, in 1992. It served as the soundtrack to my high school career, which began the very same year. Track two, “Girl,” expressed how I felt as I grappled with who I wanted to be: She’s been everybody else’s girl, maybe one day she’ll be her own.

The last time I saw Amos perform live was during her 1996 tour, when my friends and I caught her — and “a lite sneeze” (IYKYN) — at Springfield Symphony Hall in Massachusetts. Now, almost 30 years later, I step into Charlotte’s Ovens Auditorium — a fitting name on a sweltering June day — for Amos’ 2023 Oceans to Oceans Tour.

Dressed like something straight out of My So Called Life, my concert cohort, Chandra, wears a babydoll frock with Doc Martens, while I’ve donned a long bohemian dress with Birks. Chandra, who accompanied me to Nashville for the Eras Tour, peers at the concert-goers around us. “Much different crowd from our Taylor Swift experience, huh?”

She’s right. The fans are “mature” — and I suddenly feel well aware of my own age — and there’s a lot less pastel and glitter, more goth and grunge.

After finding our seats, three men around our age sit to the left of Chandra. One, wearing a pride bracelet, explains that

he’s been a fan for years. “Little Earthquakes helped me find the strength to get out of an abusive relationship when I was in my 20s,” he says.

Looking around the auditorium, I wonder how many of us have been pulled through crises by Amos’ lyrics.

To my right, two seats remain unoccupied through the opening act’s set. But after the band exits the stage, two women plop down, visibly tipsy.

The taller of the two, a natural redhead like Amos, turns to us, bright blue eyes glistening with excitement — or maybe it’s booze — and shouts, “I can’t believe we’re here! I love Tori!”

She asks our names and we return the question. “Funny you should ask because I know my name and it’s not the one my mom gave me. She named me Jennifer, middle name Kelly — Jennifer Kelly! I mean, how ’80s can you get?” She leans in a little too closely to me. “This is the face of a Laura, isn’t it? I know I am a Laura.”

We nod politely, turning back to our own conversation, but Jennifer Kelly is not having it. “I am such a fan. Actually, I am a stalkeress.” My eyes widen in horror — not even at the stalking, but at the shameless admission. Oblivious, Jennifer Kelly continues, “Yeah, I found her house in Ireland and roamed around her property. I didn’t see her, but I was there!”

We try to disengage, but Jennifer Kelly is at this concert to be heard.

“I am going to warn you right now, I know all of the words and I plan to sing along loudly. And I trance dance.”

Trance dance?

Finally, the lights go down and Amos takes the stage. For such a vocal powerhouse, she’s much more petite at 59 than I remember.

Without so much as a word, she sits down at her piano and plays a long prelude, soon recognizable as “A Sorta Fairytale,” a fan favorite.

While I fully expect Jennifer Kelly to sing loudly, I don’t anticipate what happens next. She talks to her friend. Nonstop. Throughout the entire song — and the next few.

But, as Amos begins tapping the piano keys for her fifth song, Jennifer Kelly suddenly slumps her head, swaying it from side to side. Her hand grabs her friend’s knee.

Seconds later, her mouth is running again.

“Um, you can’t be in a trance one moment and then talking the next,” Chandra mutters in my ear. Trance dancing — which I google from my seat — by definition, is a spiritual experience that requires one to escape from themselves for a moment and move in a state of half-consciousness. Got that, Jennifer Kelly?

It’s clearly an act, one that goes on through the remainder of the concert. We do our best to focus on who we came here for, but it seems we’ve inadvertently bought tickets to the Jennifer Kelly show.

Just before the encore performance, Jennifer Kelly and her pal exit. I breathe a sigh of relief as Amos begins singing “Cornflake Girl.” In a crowd of hundreds, it feels like Chandra and I have the last two songs all to ourselves.

Exiting the auditorium, I laugh and say, “We have a lot to talk about in the Uber ride back!”

And then we see them, standing outside.

“Keep walking,” I whisper as I accidentally make eye contact with Jennifer Kelly.

“Girls!” she shrieks as if we’re old friends. “Sooooo . . . what did you think of the show?”

“Tori was fabulous,” I say as I hustle past. Then, under my breath, “What we could hear of her anyhow.”

We pile into our Uber, Jennifer Kelly a red-headed glimmer in the rearview mirror.

While Chandra and I recap the absurdity of our Tori Amos concert experience, I can’t help but feel grateful that her music comforted me while I figured out who I was. Some people, it seems, are still searching for that identity. And it isn’t Jennifer Kelly. But it might be Laura. OH

Cassie Bustamante is editor of O.Henry magazine.

CHOOSE YOUR PATH.

Discover the breathtaking natural beauty of Alamance County. Tucked between the mountains and the coast, our towns offer small surprises at every turn. Whether by land or water, you’ll find numerous trails winding their way through parks, alongside lakes and over enchanted waterways – such as the Haw River Trail, part of the Mountains to Sea Trail. What you find at the end of the trail may just be yourself.

You’ll find small surprises lead to big memories in Alamance County.

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Worrying and Watering

For love of gardens and democracies

By Jim DoDsoN

A neighbor

who walks by my house each evening like clockwork sees me sitting under the trees with a pitcher of ice water and walks over to say hello.

But it isn’t even close.

“I’m worried about America. People seem so angry these days. Why do you think Americans hate each other?”

I invite Roger to take a seat and have a cold drink.

“It’s tough to keep moving in this heat,” he explains, sitting down. “It’s something, isn’t it? But your garden looks great. How do you keep it so nice and green?”

“A lot of worrying and watering,” I say. “Sometimes you have to make tough choices.”

In one of the hottest and driest summers in memory, I’d decided to let my yard turn brown in favor of keeping flowering shrubs and young trees watered and green. As the late famous British landscape designer named Mirabel Osler once said to me over her afternoon gin and tonic, landscape gardening is a ruthless business, especially in a drought. Grass will eventually return, but no such luck with a shriveled shrub or a dead young tree.

“September brings relief, rain and second blooms,” I add. “I’m already in a September state of mind.”

He smiles and nods.

“Hey,” he says casually, “let me ask you something.”

I expect another question about the garden. Like the best time of the day to water your shrubs, or when it’s safe to fertilize or prune azaleas.

The question takes me by surprise. I could give him a few thoughts on the subject: the woeful decline of fact-based journalism, an internet teeming with conspiracy peddlers, politicians who feed on polarization, the unholy marriage of politics and religion, and the sad absence of civility in everyday life.

Instead, I tell him a little story of rebirth.

In the spring of 1983, I telephoned my dad from the office of Vice President George Bush and told him that I no longer wanted to be a journalist. For almost seven years, I’d worked as a staff writer of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution Sunday Magazine, covering everything from presidential politics to murder and mayhem across the deep South. As a result of my work, I’d been offered my dream job in Washington, D.C., but found myself suddenly fed up with writing about crooks, con men and politicians. Bush, however, was an exception. We’d traveled extensively together during the 1980 campaign and had wonderful conversations about life, family and our shared love of everything from American history to golf. During our travels, Bush invited me to drop by his office anytime I happened to be in the nation’s capital. Unfortunately, he was traveling the day I turned down my dream job in Washington, but his secretary allowed me to use her phone. So, I called my dad and told him I planned to move to New England and learn to fly-fish.

“When was the last time you played golf?” he calmly asked.

“I think Jimmy Carter had just been elected.”

He suggested that I meet him in Raleigh the next morning.

So, I changed my flight and there he was, waiting with my dusty Haig Ultra golf clubs in his back seat. We drove to Pinehurst, played famed course No. 2 and finished on the Donald Ross porch, talking about my early midlife career crisis over a couple of beers. I’d just turned 30.

I told him that I “hated” making a living by writing about the sorrows of others, especially when it came to the increasingly shallow and mean-spirited world of politics.

“You may laugh, but here’s a thought,” the old man came back, sipping his beer. “Before you give up journalism, have you ever considered writing about things you love rather than things you don’t?”

Sadly, I did laugh. But he planted a seed in my head. A short time later, I resigned from my job in Atlanta and wound up on a trout river in Vermont, where I learned to fly-fish, started attending an old Episcopal Church and knocked the rust off my dormant golf game at an old nine-hole course where Rudyard Kipling played when he lived in the area.

I soon went to work for

decade writing about things I did love: American history, nature, boat builders, gardeners and artists — a host of dreamers and eccentrics who enriched life with their positive visions and talents.

I also got married and built my first garden on a forest hilltop near the Maine coast.

“I never looked back,” I tell Roger. “I’ve built five gardens since.”

Roger smiles.

“So, you’re telling me we all need to become gardeners?”

“Not a bad idea. Gardeners are some of the most generous people on Earth. We make good neighbors. Most of the country’s founders, by the way, were serious gardeners.”

I pour myself a little more ice water and tell him I’ve learned that gardens and democracies are a lot alike. “Both depend on the love and attention we give them. Especially in difficult times like these.”

Roger finishes his drink and stands up. “That’s something to think about. Here’s to September, cool weather and good neighbors,” he says. “Maybe by then even your grass will be green

Zithobile (Zitty) Nxumalo

Sazerac

"A spirited forum of Gate City food, drink, history, art, events, rumors and eccentrics worthy of our famous namesake"

Sage Gardener

My introduction to kimchi was via M*A*S*H, when Frank Burns boasts about catching some Korean peasants burying a land mine — which turns out to be a vat of kimchi. Upon excavation, Hawkeye takes his own dig at Burns, saying "You've struck coleslaw!”

Actually, it’s rather surprising that the usually wellinformed M*A*S*H writers should mention slaw. Fermented and aged (traditionally underground to control the temperature) for a month or more, kimchi doesn’t vaguely resemble coleslaw. Think of a nostril-bending flavor bomb made with fermented cabbage, spiked with chilies, ginger and garlic.

My next encounter with kimchi was on the end of a fork in Cocoa, Florida, where I was writing about the space shuttle’s efforts to escape Earth’s gravity. An editor who had hitchhiked across Asia served it with warm sake one night — love at first bite. I was soon fermenting my own, filling the house with a thick aroma. Another reporter and I would get up at daybreak and catch a mess of mullet, which my wife, Anne, would fry and serve with grits and kimchi. The reporter and I still say it’s the best breakfast we ever had.

from Napa cabbage and scallions, sometimes with added fish sauce. Authentic Korean kimchi often contains salted shrimp or croaker — or other finny prey, including anchovies and salted cod gills.

I’ve found that kimchi tends to appeal to people who relish the strongest of flavors. A friend who obsessively made beer for a while, transitioned to kimchi, observing that he became “fascinated by the alchemy of salt turning bland vegetables into hot, sour yumminess.” Plus, he hoped it “would nurture my gut and cure what age and various vices had inflicted on me.”

Like other fermented foods, kimchi’s teeming bacteria is purportedly good for your intestinal microbiome. But people eat kimchi because they love how it triggers endorphins, generally appealing to the same people who fall in love with tonguenumbing hot sauces, hopcrazy IPA’s, mind-bending mescals and peaty, smoky Isla scotch.

Since pickling vegetables is an ideal method of extending their lifespan, kimchi making in Korea dates back to well before the Christian Era. But forget the chilies. Chili peppers, native to the Americas, didn’t make it to Korea until the 1600s. Most of the kimchi available in America is made

Making kimchi is as easy as making sauerkraut and there are a plethora of recipes on the internet. As the days grow colder, consider starting a batch, especially if you have cabbage in your garden. There’s something magical about having a batch of kimchi bubbling away in a dark room, getting a little more sour with each passing day, a little hotter and a little more redolent. Get started now and it will make a great gift under the tree — festively green and red — and mask that annoying evergreen scent.

— David Claude Bailey

To Cassie Bustamante in response to her June 2024 column, “Curb Alert”

As I sit here in my yard chair relaxing after a morning of delayed yard work, I am enjoying the June edition of O.Henry magazine.

Your article brings back memories. Christmas 2003, my son received his first car as a present. It was a 1998 Jeep Cherokee.

The thought being, it would help in having another driver, helping with errands, stopping his mother and I being his chauffeur. Wrong!

However, that’s not the story at hand. I remember that Christmas Day going out for a drive with my son Nick at the helm. He decided that a ride on highway I-40 would be a good idea to test out his new ride.

I have never been so scared sh&$less in my entire life.

Window to the Past Letters

All I could do was pray and hope to get home in one piece.

Finally he pulled into the driveway and, forgetting to put the Jeep in park, he hit the rear bumper of my wife’s Mercury.

We did have a happy ending though. The Mercury was a tank, no visible damage to either vehicle.

Reading your article brought back this now humorous incident to mind.

Our kids, no matter what they do, leave us with memories. Hopefully, good ones.

— David Ruden

The Passed Baton

“You Should Be Dancing,” the Greensboro Symphony Orchestra has decided — and with a new Aussie conductor as your dance master. Christopher Dragon will take the baton on September 14 to lead the symphony in a POPS Concert featuring The Australian Bee Gees Show, a tribute to the legendary group, at the Tanger Center. Bellbottoms optional.

During its last season, dubbed “Season of the Seven,” seven candidates auditioned — each having an opportunity to lead the symphony. Dragon won out. Hailing from Perth, Australia, Christopher Dragon began his career in his

home country with the West Australia Symphony Orchestra. Since then, he’s led the Colorado Symphony as well as the Wyoming Symphony, and worked with orchestras the world over. Plus, not to name drop — but, just for you music aficionados, we’re going to — he’s collaborated with the likes of Cynthia Erivo, Joshua Bell, the Wu-Tang Clan and Cypress Hill. And he’s stoked to bring his flair to the Gate City while creating “unforgettable symphonic experiences to inspire the next generation  of music lovers.”

But wait — there’s more! While there can only be one conductor on the podium at a time, sometimes there’s room for two at the top. Chelsea Tipton, fellow “Season of the Seven” candidate, has been named principal guest conductor. A native of Greensboro, Tipton currently serves as music director of the Symphony of Southeast Texas and principal pops conductor of the New Haven Symphony Orchestra. “Returning to my hometown in this capacity is a dream come true,” he says.

Who knew a trio of string musicians could rock 'n' roll like that? PHOTOGRAPH © GREENSBORO HISTORY MUSEUM COLLECTION

Last Call for O.Henry Essayists!

This year, we’re moving our annual O.Henry Essay Contest to earlier in the year so that you have all summer to meditate on it while you mow your lawn, swim your strokes or swat away the skeeters. The theme this time? “Furry, Feathered and Ferocious.” That’s right, we’re all ears for your animal tails — oops, tales — and we’ll be accepting entries through Sept. 30, 2024. Got a wild hare? Submit a story about it! From beloved pets to snake encounters, we want to get our paws on your story.

Of course, there are some rules:

• Submit no more than 1,000 words in a digital format — Word or Pages document, a PDF, pasted into an email, or tattooed on your body and sent via photographs. Essays over 1,000 will not be considered. After all, as Shakespeare wrote, “Brevity is the soul of wit.” (Why were your plays so long, Willy???)

• Only one entry per writer.

• Email entries to cassie@ohenrymag.com.

• Deadline to enter is September 30, 2024.

• Winners will be contacted via email and will be printed in a 2025 issue.

We can’t wait to hear the clickety-clack of keyboards across the Triad as you type your stories — stories that are sure to make us laugh, cry or rush to the animal shelters to bring home even more rescues. What’s one more at this point?

—

Cassie Bustamante, editor

Unsolicited Advice

Did you know that September is National Italian Cheese Month? Grate-est news ever, grazie! We support any observance that involves feasting on that melt-in-your-mouth (or on your sandwich) delight, any way you slice it. But preferably with carbs and wine, per favore. Stock up on Lactaid and get ready to dazzle your palate with some of our magnifico varieties!

Gorgonzola: Sounds like an evil character from a 1980s cartoon featuring little blue creatures, but is actually the Italian answer to blue — or, shall we say bleu — cheese. Crumbles easily, just like us.

Mozzarella: Quite possibly the most popular pizza top ping due to its meltabili ty. Frankly, we’d eat it as a topper to the cardboard circle frozen pizza

comes on in its ooey-gooeiest state. By the way, mozzarella is not related to Cinderella, who is actually French.

Parmigiano-Reggiano: Two first names? Must be from Southern Italy.

Mascarpone: Any cheese that can masca-rade as dessert is a winner in our books. If pizza pie isn’t your thing, how ‘bout a pumpkin-mascarpone pie?

Ricotta: Rick oughta make us his famous lasagne soon. And tell him to use the good stuff — none of that cottage cheese.

Provolone: Between two slices of crusty Italian bread slathered with butter, this one makes a delicious and simple grilled cheese. Ready, set, ciao!

Virgo

(August 23 – September 22)

We appreciate your pragmatism. We really do. That said, it’s time to occupy the rooms in your Fifth House of Pleasure. (Note: Reorganizing the Tupperware doesn’t count.) What if there was no one to impress, no one to “fix,” nothing to accomplish? Try not trying so hard for five seconds and experience what can only be described as actual, factual joy. The Tupperware will be the icing on the cake.

Tea leaf “fortunes” for the rest of you:

Libra (September 23 – October 22)

Try clicking refresh.

Scorpio (October 23 – November 21)

Eat your greens.

Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21)

The aftertaste will be complex.

Capricorn (December 22 – January 19)

Embrace the imperfection.

Aquarius (January 20 – February 18)

There’s no going back.

Pisces (February 19 – March 20)

Conjure your own plot twist.

Aries (March 21 – April 19)

A full-bodied month with a buttery finish.

Taurus (April 20 – May 20)

Hint: The underdog wins.

Gemini (May 21 – June 20)

No need to spill all your secrets.

Cancer (June 21 – July 22)

One word: remediation.

Leo (July 23 – August 22)

Bring some cash. OH

Zora Stellanova has been divining with tea leaves since Game of Thrones’ Starbucks cup mishap of 2019. While she’s not exactly a medium, she’s far from average. She lives in the N.C. foothills with her Sphynx cat, Lyla.

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Could Be a Myssssstery

But the math sayssss no

By m aria JohNsoN

By the time I saw the black snake, it was smack in the middle of my lane, a few yards ahead of me.

It was too late to steer around it.

Best case scenario, I figured, my car would pass squarely over the undulating 4-foot ribbon that was booking it across the searing blacktop in the middle of the day.

I squinted and raised my shoulders to brace for ka-thunk, ka-thunk under my tires.

A nanosecond passed. Nothing.

Not even one ka-thunk.

I glanced in my rearview mirror.

No squashed “S” in my wake, which was good.

But neither did I see the snake finishing its sprint to the other side of the road.

Huh?

I pulled into a side street, turned around and retraced my path.

No snake on the road.

No snake beside the road.

What the . . . ?

I turned around once more to survey the scene of the non-crime.

Then a horrifying possibility occurred to me:

What if the snake had somehow glommed onto the underside of my car and was now tucked into the recesses of my engine?

Why, just the week before, a friend had told the story of a friend of hers, who lived in the country and had been driving down the road when a snake slithered out of an air-conditioning vent on her dashboard.

Alone in the car now, I issued a string of words not suited for a family-friendly magazine.

I slapped shut every air vent I could reach.

The innocent creature I’d hoped to spare suddenly represented a cardiac threat.

Then I remembered another story, this one from my childhood. One morning, my mom was driving my brother to Vacation Bible School. On the way to and fro’, we heard meowing. Back at home, Puff, our cat, appeared from under the car. He was streaked with grease like a mechanic. We thought it was funny.

Looking back, I’m sure that Puff was never quite the same after his VBS experience, but we had no time for trauma in the 1960s.

The point is, I knew that animals could shelter under the hood of a car, never mind that the critters in both of my cautionary tales had probably stowed away while the car was parked.

Maybe, I thought, one of my tires could have grabbed the black snake and flung it upward — minus the ka-thunk — into the guts of my car.

Long shot? Perhaps. But it was too late, the air vent story had left the station.

Minutes later, I pulled up in front of my house, parked several feet from the curb and literally jumped out of the car.

I’d just been to a baby shower, so I was wearing a sun-

The Artof Living

MEET CARL HEIN AND KARL STAUBER

As highly skilled woodworkers, Carl and Karl love making things—furniture, bowls, jewelry, and more. Now, thanks to their efforts to bring a new fully-equipped and stand-alone woodshop to Arbor Acres, the men have a dedicated place to work and share with other residents. “We have a full collection of high-quality tools,” says Karl. “And safety is a key feature,” Carl adds, referring to detailed training sessions. Arbor Acres is happy to continue fulfilling the visions of our residents, who continue to make this place alive with their creative energy.

dress, not my usual T-shirt and shorts.

Also, it was hot as Hades, and I was circling my car while stooped over, peering underneath from a safe distance.

The unusual scene did not go unnoticed.

Our neighbor, Jonathan, came out of his front door looking concerned.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

I explained what had happened.

“Pop the hood,” Jonathan said.

He lifted the lid of my Honda and . . .

JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH!! A WHOLE NEST OF BLACK SNAKES RIGHT BEHIND THE AIR FILTER!!!

Oh. Wait. Just some hoses.

“I don’t see anything,” Jonathan said, studying the engine from different angles.

I was soothed. Somewhat.

I went inside and recounted the experience to my husband, who thought for a minute and finally said, “I don’t know. Snakes can move pretty fast.”

“Yeah, 35 miles an hour when they’re inside my car!”

“We could look under the rest of a car with a mirror and a flashlight,” he offered.

“Too close,” I shot back.

“We could take it to a garage, and they could put it on a lift,” he said. “Do you need an oil change?”

Brilliant!

We drove to our favorite quick-change garage.

“I’m gonna let you explain this,” Jeff said.

I opened the door as a uniformed guy named Jordan approached the car.

“Got time for an oil change?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said. “Can we do anything else for you?”

“Funny you should ask,” I said.

I summarized the situation: snake, no snake, air vent, eek.

Jordan smiled and nodded at my request for an oil change plus.

“You don’t seem put off by this,” I said.

He smiled and shook his head no. I had a suspicion about the source of his nonchalance.

“Are you a country boy?” I asked.

“A little bit,” he said, flashing a grin and the tattoo inside his left forearm: the

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A Sense of Time and Place

Bland Simpson’s “memoir” sees us anew

By Stephen e. Smith

Writers have

twitches and tics of style and substance that identify them as distinctly as their DNA — and writers of exceptional talent are possessed by obsession, a focus on subject matter that elevates their work to a purity that establishes a commonality with their audience. North Carolina’s Thomas Wolfe was such a writer. So is Bland Simpson.

Simpson has earned a reputation as the chronicler of the North Carolina coast and sound country. His books include North Carolina: Land of Water, Land of Sky, Great Dismal, and Into Sound Country, books that demonstrate his love of the state and the region where he was raised. He has appeared in numerous PBS (WUNC) documentaries, and his familiar voice graces the soundtrack to travelogues exploring the coastal region. In short, he’s the go-to guy when it comes to the history and evolution of coastal North Carolina. For many years, he’s been the Kenan Distinguished Professor of English and Creative Writing at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

In his latest book, Clover Garden: A Carolinian’s Piedmont Memoir, Simpson remains in familiar territory — he’s writing about the state — but he’s moved his focus west to an area outside Chapel Hill where he’s lived for the last 50 years.

Where is Clover Garden?

Head west out of Carrboro until you hit N.C. 54. Drive northwest into gentle farmland until you pass the old White Oak School. If there’s a sign for Swepsonville, you’ve gone too

far. You can try that, but you won’t happen upon the place name that serves as the title of Simpson’s memoir. According to Simpson, Clover Garden is closer to Carrboro than Graham. He describes it as “a small, four-square-mile country community to the old Porter Tract of the low Old Fields, lying beside the Haw River just a few miles west of Chapel Hill and Carrboro . . .” But in truth, readers will suspect that Clover Garden is anywhere in North Carolina’s vast rolling Piedmont, any plot of land inhabited by neighbors who live harmoniously in tight-knit communities.

“Memoir” in the title is used in the loosest sense. There’s maybe a thread of chronology at work, but Simpson takes an impressionistic approach to his writing, à la Manet (not Monet). Readers who remember their art history will be reminded of the details in Music in the Tuileries and The CaféConcert, images in which all the specifics matter to the whole.

Clover Garden is divided into 45 segments — short narratives, random observations, anecdotes, even gossip — that, when taken together, comprise the “memoir” and give the readers a sense of a particular time and place. These independent segments are skillfully illustrated and enhanced with photographs by Ann Cary Simpson, whose keen eye for specific and illuminating images has enhanced Clover Garden and her husband’s previous books. If the impressionistic comparison seems a trifle pretentious, the narratives Simpson shares are not. He writes of pool halls, pig pickings, snowstorms, country stores, great horned owls, folklore, boatwrighting, cafes and bars, stars, and riderless horses, all the bits and pieces, practical and impractical, that comprise our daily lives. And if you’ve lived in the Piedmont, there’s a good chance you’ll know a few characters who contribute color to the storytelling. If you don’t recognize any of the characters, you know them well enough at the conclusion

omnivorous reader

Downsizing

of the memoir, or you’ll recognize their counterpart in your circle of friends and acquaintances.

Simpson’s descriptions embody an easy blending of history with a touch of nostalgia as in this sepia-tinged recollection of old friends and poolhalls (one of which was frequented by this reviewer): “In time, Jake Mills showed me his two favorite pool halls, Happy’s on Cotanche Street in Greenville and Wilbur’s on Webb Avenue in Burlington. After school in the 1950s, he and Steve Coley used to play quarter games with the textile mill hands coming off first shift and drifting into Wilbur’s straight from work. The cigarette haze hung low below the green shades, and the cry of ‘Rack!’ was in the air, and the balls clicked and clacked, and, like many a youth before them, Jake and Steve picked up pin money in this Alamance County eight-ball haven.”

Above all else, Simpson is a master prose stylist, a poet at heart. His sentences are graceful and well-tuned — thoroughly worked on to get that “worked on” feeling out — and laced with continual surprises to save them from predictability. Simpson is always a pleasure to read, and he can transport the reader to familiar ground as if it’s being seen anew: “. . . alongside dairy cows, beeves and horses in pastures meeting deep forests of white oaks and red oaks and pines, copses of them around country churches, and straight up tulip poplars and high-crown hickories, American beech and always sweet gum, muscadine vines everywhere, willows close to the waterlines of ponds where big blue heron stalk and hunt, ponds full of bass and bream, shellcrackers and pumpkinseed and catfish prowling the bottom . . . .” Thomas Wolfe would approve. OH

Stephen E. Smith is a retired professor and the author of seven books of poetry and prose. He’s the recipient of the Poetry Northwest Young Poet’s Prize, the Zoe Kincaid Brockman Prize for poetry and four North Carolina Press Awards.

Epiphanic Remembrances

Transported in moments of music making

By DaviD C. partington

The memory of my first epiphanic musical experience is as vivid to me today as it was in 1957. I was attending a community concert series recital by the German soprano Elizabeth Schwarzkopf at Cornell University’s Bailey Hall, along with other students and faculty from Ithaca College. Toward the end of her performance of a cycle of Franz Schubert’s songs (lyrics by Wilhelm Müller), from her lips into my heart came the words, “Dein is mein Herz, und soll es ewig bleiben” (My heart is yours, and shall ever remain so). Suddenly, I was transported to a deep place. My spirit soared and remained there into the night. At the time, I realized I was the recipient of a gift from above.

My first performance at a student recital at Ithaca College is another memory of singular importance. Joseph Tague, my piano teacher had assigned me Abram Khachaturian’s “Toccata.” I loved the piece. From the percussive strike of the first chord, the Toccata and I were one! I had the distinct feeling that it was not I who was playing the piano, but that the music was being channeled through me. When I finished, the audience erupted in applause and shouts, calling me back to the stage a total of five times! The next day several faculty members sought me out to congratulate me. The experience was clearly epiphanic for both me and the audience.

Powerful, inspirational and life-deepening moments characterize my season of life spent as a church and community musician in Winston-Salem from 1966–1975. In preparing the Winston-

Salem Symphony Chorus for a performance of George Frederick Handel’s “Coronation Anthems” there was a moment never to be forgotten. Handel’s setting of this ancient story begins with a lengthy introduction that culminates in the explosive “Zadok the Priest and Nathan the Prophet anointed Solomon King!” I gave the downbeat, and our accompanist, Margaret Kolb, began playing the powerful prelude, working her way toward a perfect crescendo. I watched as the chorus listened to her electrifying rendition. As our cue approached to begin singing, we glanced at one another, sang a measure or two, and — one by one — stopped singing. We had been so transported by Margaret’s perfect performance that we could not continue. We were awe struck! And then, from both bewilderment and embarrassment, we broke into exuberant laughter as a form of emotional release. For all of us, this was an epiphany to be remembered. Years later when I would have serendipitous conversations with chorus members and mention that particular rehearsal, they would simply smile and say, “Oh, yes!”

On another occasion, I was preparing the Winston-Salem Symphony Chorus to sing in a performance of Arrigo Boito’s “Prologue to Mephistopheles.” The work requires the addition of a boys’ choir. For several weeks, I rehearsed the boys — an enthusiastic group — for the role they would be singing. During the concert, they were seated up on the balcony at Reynolds Auditorium and, when it was their turn to sing, they gave nothing short of a transcendent performance, one-of-a-kind. Perhaps, this was the first time they experienced being transported by the sheer power of their own voices. As I walked towards their backstage room to celebrate after the performance, one of the parents stopped me. “The boys really want to see you!” When I walked into the room, they mobbed me. I wondered if this was what it was like to be a rock star! There was no doubt about it. Those boys had been electrified by having been visited by a transcendent spiritual experience.

On another occasion, I was conducting the Symphony

Uncomplicated

Close with Craig!

and the room itself were transported into a world beyond our imagining. We were together in a glorious Epiphany!

Even when, as a pastor, I was no longer making music professionally, the wondrous moments continued. During my first season of ministry (1978–1982), we were living about 60 miles from Washington, D.C. Our family enjoyed frequent trips to the Smithsonian Institute, the Washington National Zoo and the Washington National Cathedral. On a chilly Sunday afternoon, surrounded by the old-world artisanship of the Neo-Gothic Cathedral, we witnessed Paul Callaway conduct a performance of Gustav Mahler’s “Symphony No. 8,” a first for me. There were multiple moments in that performance that held me captive, but one in particular literally pinned me to one of the cathedral’s huge pillars. Near the close of the symphony, everything came down to a hush as the chorus seemed to almost whisper: “Alles Vergängliche ist nur ein Gleichnis” (“All that is ephemeral is but a symbol”). This was a moment of being transported and held transfixed. I could not — and dared not — move. I was being held by mystery beyond my comprehending. OH

As a church and community musician in Winston-Salem from 1966-1975, David Partington was the director of music and organist at First Presbyterian Church, the conductor of The Singers Guild, the choral director at the North Carolina School of the Arts and the founding conductor of the Winston-Salem Symphony Chorus. As a Presbyterian pastor, he served both Westminster and First Presbyterian Churches in Greensboro. OH

Evergreens Lifestyle Center 2nd Annual

AUCTION Silent

SEPTEMBER 26-27

9AM-5PM

Come support the Evergreens Lifestyle Center and bid on a variety of great items such as: Gift Cards & Certificates to Restaurants - Spas - Retail - and more Gift Baskets | Antiques | Jewelry Collectibles | Artwork | Unique Experiences

Cut the Kiwi

The real reason Pan Am reached its final destination

By Cynthia aDamS

AsPan Am approached its final destination in December 1991, it offered heavily discounted airfares, beginning that summer.

Monitoring deals, I noticed a $300 Pan Am offer from New York to Nice. At the height of travel season!

My elegant friend, Dixie, who loved travel, was immediately interested. We grabbed tickets and spent weeks excitedly planning. We’d enjoy the South of France, proceeding to Italy, where her friends were renting a place. Then I’d return solo from Genoa via Nice.

Consulting Frommer’s, my go-to guide, I circled budget hotels, pensiones and cafés.

Better-heeled travel friends offered advice. “Always request the airline’s vegetarian meal,” said Tom, who had studied at the Sorbonne. “It’s fresher, better.” Noted, I phoned the airline requesting special meals for both of us.

Meanwhile, Dixie was packing a rolling duffel dubbed “the beached whale.” She was still stuffing the Whale when we picked her up for departure. It was aptly named (no weight limits then), especially as she dressed to kill versus as a whale harpooner.

She was decked out in crisp linen and a hat for departure. I wore something comfortable.

We were in coach and I had the middle seat, but who cared? The Riviera awaited! Once airborne, Dixie produced a small bottle of wine from her capacious hand luggage. “To celebrate!”

We surreptitiously toasted.

Aisle Seat shot us a look that said, “Couldn’t you wait?” — which we ignored. I produced Mrs. Fields cookies purchased at the airport, which she refused. “I’m saving myself for our special

meal,” she murmured.

Soon we heard our names called; the special meals! The hostess brought ours, ignoring the contraband wine. Aisle Seat stared as we excitedly opened them to find: A congealed lump of rice, black beans . . . and a whole kiwi, rolling manically around.

Aisle Seat gawped at our trays before smiling at his: beef tips on rice with steamed veggies, roll and cake.

Leaning over, Aisle Seat whispered, “Do you mind my asking what is wrong with you that you have to eat that?”

We wept with laughter. Giving up on the inedible, unseasoned food I vigorously attempted cutting the kiwi with my plastic knife. It escaped each attempt. “I’m hungry enough to just gnaw it,” I confessed.

More misadventure lay ahead.

Once in France, the Beached Whale proved challenging for coming travels, especially using trains along the Côte d’Azur. It was beastly navigating hilly destinations. Reaching our inn, I would arrive panting; me in jeans, Dixie in beautifully rumpled linen.

Controlling the Whale’s wonky wheels and heft left me perpetually famished. We found reasonable fare and delicious jug wine. That is, apart from my one order for fruits de mer, which in my terrible French, arrived raw.

Still, more tears of laughter.

Dixie, a former model, wafted along with aristocratic grace. Men trailed in her wake.

Once in Genoa, noisily chattering women encircled and jostled Dixie as she stood perfectly quiet. A few blocks later she discovered she was robbed. She quoted Tennessee Williams’ last line in Streetcar: “I’ve always depended upon the kindness of strangers.”

Her wallet, relieved of cash, was kindly returned to the train station.

But, at her friend’s rental, I broke the Italian washing machine. A ing machine. That required negotiations with the Candy Man for repairs. And an emptying of my cash.

Yet it was my solo return to Nice where the greatest travails awaited. I was pulled out of the boarding line by offi cials demanding a full body search. “But I’m an American citizen!” I protested. “I have rights!”

“Not here in France,” they replied, strangers to Tennessee’s dictum, wheel ing a contraption like a portable shower for privacy as they proceeded with the search. They studied my luggage, sternly questioning hair dryer repairs during my travels. (As if any American, ever, repairs a hair dryer.)

“Nope. Only a Candy washing ma chine,” I answered.

Upon boarding, all eyes were upon the woman detainee who made the flight late. I kept my eyes forward, flush with embarrassment.

Soon after departure came a flurry of announcements. Lunch would soon be served.

“Special meal for Ms. Adams!” chirped a Frenchwoman.

I kept my face averted, studying the disappearing coastline.

When the hostess approached my seat bearing what was probably another con gealed mass of starch, I feigned ignorance of any such request.

“I’ve no dietary restrictions,” I replied stonily. “Perhaps there was a mistake.”

The hostess looked knowingly. Was that a wink?

“Perhaps so,” she said, mercifully retreat ing, holding the damnable meal aloft.

When the headline announcing the final Pan Am flight ran later that year, it was the end of a once grand airline. I folded the paper. “It was the gawdawful vegetarian meals,” I muttered.

If only I had told them before it was too late. OH

Cynthia Adam is a contributing editor to O.Henry magazine.

HERE TO EXPLORE

“I love giving patients a reason to smile while focusing on education and comprehensive dental care.”

By SuSan CampBell

Southbound and Down

Grasspipers forage on farms and fields

As the long days of summer wane here in the Piedmont and Sandhills of North Carolina, we have scores of birds preparing for that long southbound journey we refer to as fall migration. Thousands of birds pass by, both day and night, headed for wintering grounds deep in the Southern Hemisphere. Flocks of medium-bodied shorebirds, dropping down to replenish their reserves, are one seemingly unlikely sight. They may stay a few hours or a few days, depending on the weather and the abundance of food available to them. At first glance, you might think these long-legged birds are lost — far from the coast where a variety of sandpipers are commonplace. But once you take a good look, you will realize these are birds of grassland habitat, not sand flats.

Referred to as “grasspipers” by birders, these species forage on a wide variety of invertebrates found in grassy expanses. They breed in open northern terrain, in some cases all the way up into the Arctic. They are moving through as they migrate to grassland habitat in southern South America. Although some may be seen along our coastline, they are more likely to be found in flocks or loose groups at inland airports, sod farms, playing fields and perhaps even tilled croplands.

Come late August and early September, armed with binoculars or, better yet, a powerful spotting telescope, you can find these cryptically colored birds without having to travel too far from home. They are indeed easy to miss unless you know where to look at the right time. Flocks often include a mix of species, so be ready to sort through each and every bird, lest you overlook one of the rarer individuals. When it comes to shorebirds

as a group, many of the dozens of species are tricky to identify so, if you’re relatively new to birding, I suggest you arrange to join a more accomplished birder to start.

The most common and numerous species without a doubt is the killdeer. Its dark upper parts contrast with white underparts, but it’s the double neck ring that gives it away. This spunky bird, whose name is its call, nests (if you can call a rudimentary scrape in the gravel a nest) on disturbed ground such as unpaved roadways and parking lots throughout North Carolina. Flocks of hundreds of birds are not uncommon. Frequently other species are mixed in as well.

The plover family, to which the killdeer belongs, consists of squat, short-necked and billed birds of several species. The semipalmated plover is a close cousin. This slightly smaller species sports only a single neck ring and curiously, individuals have slightly webbed (or palmate) feet. They can actually swim short distances when in wetter habitat and are thus more versatile foragers.

The most curious are the obligate grassland shorebirds, which include the well-camouflaged buff-breasted sandpiper and the upland sandpiper. Both nest in the drier prairies of Canada and spend the winter months mainly in the pampas of Argentina.

“Buffies” are a buff-brown all over and have delicate-looking heads, short, thin bills and a distinctive ring around the eye.

“Uppies” are brownish and have small heads as well, but with larger eyes and both a longer bill and longer legs. These two species are thought to be declining — most likely due to habitat loss on both continents.

If you miss the chance to get out in search of inland shorebirds this fall, don’t fret. They will move through again come spring, although in smaller numbers. Winter will take its toll, but those who do make it back our way will be in vibrant plumage as they wing their way northward to create yet a new generation of grasspipers north of the border.

Susan Campbell would love to receive your wildlife sightings and photos. She can be contacted by email at susan@ncaves.com, or by calling (910) 585-0574.

Down to a Fine Art

How Sam Fribush, Calvin Napper and Charlie Hunter came together to create new grooves with familiar sounds

By Billy ingram

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” — Friedrich Nietzsche

I was covering a shift in a comic book store one sunny Saturday when musician-songwriter Sam Fribush strolled over from his nearby home to discuss the latest steps he’s taken on his remarkable mellifluous journey. He, together with Grammy-winners guitarist-bassist Charley Hunter and drummer Calvin Napper, formed the Sam Fribush Organ Trio to create an album released in March of this year. People Please is a swingingly soulful suture of melodies reminiscent of a time, many decades ago, when rhythmic instrumental riffs ruled the Billboard Hot 100.

Raised in Sunset Hills, Fribush reflects on his musical undertones. “My parents are both self-taught, old-time folk musicians, so I grew up with music in the house. Folk Appalachian music is maybe the first line in my DNA.” While attending Weaver Academy from 2009 to 2013, Fribush began seriously focusing on piano under the instruction of Mark Freundt. “They had a block schedule, so I just sat at the keyboard for an hour-and-a-half every day and practiced. That was a big part of getting my technical facility together.”

From there, he studied music as an undergrad at the prestigious New England Conservatory in Boston, simultaneously picking up local gigs. “That's when I started playing the Hammond organ, in a Black Baptist church in the south part of Massachusetts,” Fribush says. “A really tough learning environment, got my ass kicked in all the best ways.”

A move to New Orleans led to the musician pounding keys

in dimly lit clubs on Bourbon and Frenchmen Streets. “The school of hard knocks,” is how Fribush describes that experience. “Without rehearsed material, having to know tons and tons of songs, just using my ears, that’s when I really got my ass kicked!”

After the pandemic hit, like a surprising number of other talented individuals (a blessing in disguise it turns out), he returned to Greensboro. “I love being back here,” Fribush says. “It's a great home base of operation. I moved to College Hill and joined the band Hiss Golden Messenger from Durham.” Relocating proved fortuitous. “I also met Charlie Hunter, who randomly moved to Greensboro when I did. We happened to be into the same type of music and started playing together.”

When Fribush and I spoke that afternoon, he had just returned from laying down tracks for his next album in Richmond. “I’m on a little bit of marathon recording new stuff right now,” he explains. “I’ve been really going down a deep rabbit hole of writing. It’s been rewarding, having all these demos.”

In the Richmond recording studio, he connected with some of the guys from Butcher Brown, a jazz quintet from the area. “We were just pulling songs off my demo list. It was really fun to have these original sparks, and then see what they turn into.” The week following our convo, he was jetting off to Denver to record with producer and drummer Adam Deitch from the funktastic ensemble Lettuce.

Currently, Fribush is especially looking forward to jamming once again with his People Please collaborators at the N.C. Folk Festival. When he was first approached about performing, he says, “I was like, well, I would really like to get those guys in on it, too.” The only other live performance this trio has played as a unit was an album release party at Flat Iron, but, he notes, “Whenever the three of us get together, it's always awesome.”

Taking a break from touring with TMF (The Music Forever), formerly of Maze featuring Frankie Beverly, Winston-Salem resident Calvin Napper is renowned for beating out percussive blasts for gospel greats Kirk Franklin, Shirley Caesar, and CeCe Winans, to name a few. He was awarded a Grammy for

his contribution to Donnie McClurkin’s Psalms, Hymns & Spiritual Songs. “Calvin Napper is a natural born drummer,” Smooth Jazz Daily opines. “Although addicted to gospel music, he pursues his musical destination in smooth jazz or, more precisely, funk.”

Cruising into Latin and Caribbean inspired grooves on recordings with D’Angelo, Frank Ocean, Mos Def and John Mayer, world-renowned Jazz and R&B guitarist-bassist Charlie Hunter’s signature Novax seven- and eight-string instruments allow him to play both bass and guitar simultaneously. “I’ve been a fan of Charlie Hunter for a really long time,” John Mayer once said after having the chance to record “In Repair” with him. “One of the values that he’s kind of instilled in me, just from my being a fan of his, is his willingness to want to get into other musical situations than what he’s familiar with.”

On The Charlie Hunter Quartet’s highly-acclaimed 2001 Blue Note album Songs of the Analog Playground, it was Hunter’s transcendent interpretations of Roxy Music’s “More Than This” and Nick Drake’s hauntingly sensual “Day Is Done,” both featuring then unknown vocalist Norah Jones, that introduced the future nine-time Grammy winning singer-songwriter to the world. A year later, Jones’ debut album became one of the best-selling platters of all time. Intertwined on People Please, these three virtuosos have created an extraordinary sonic playground reminiscent of those ubiquitous, highly infectious instrumentals of old. Think “Soul Bossa Nova” (the theme from Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery) by Quincy Jones; Oscar Peterson’s jaunty, unparalleled ivorytinkling wizardry across musical genres; Memphis ’60s Southern grooves typified by “Green Onions” from Booker T. & the MG’s; in addition to that sweet Philly soul sound of the ’70s. “Philly is where most of the Hammond players were from,” Fribush notes about the keyboard that funked up the 1970s before soulless synthesizers desensitized our ears. “Jimmy

ASHLEY

ashleyvanoreart

Selling the Triad

Smith, Shirley Scott, yeah, that's the sound. Those are my idols.”

People Please may be Sam Fribush’s first assemblage of all original material, but even the cover tunes on his two previous records are, for the most part, practically undetectable as such, owing to his singularly preternatural approach. “That was the point,” Fribush says. “Finding deep cuts, then arranging them in interesting ways.”

This musical artist has somehow managed to make that instantly recognizable Hammond B-3 Tonewheel’s harmonic resonance fresh again. One reason that sound is relatively uncommon today? The manufacturer stopped making them a half-century ago. “Most of my Hammonds are from late-’50s, early-’60s,” which means that, out of necessity, Fribush has to repair and refurbish those organs and antiquated amps himself. “They are 100 percent analog, no chipboard. It’s all tubes, pretty straightforward. In the jazz and funk organ idiom, it’s a hard sound to replicate because of the warmth of the Hammond.”

Are the Sam Fribush Organ Trio’s electronic earworms burrowing us back to a post-synth future, 21st-century beachmusic style? They may be the closest thing to a so-called “supergroup” the Folk Fest proffers this year. OH

Fun Fact: in order for a band that he once managed to get paid, Billy Ingram was forced to confront Eddie Nash, one of LA’s most notorious mass murderers (Wonderland), who was crying poor behind a wall of at least $200,000 in bundled bills. Best believe band got paid!

Beatriz Williams, Lauren Willig and Karen White

Whodunnit again? Bestselling fiction trio Beatriz Williams, Lauren Willig and Karen White, known for their 2022 New York Times-bestselling novel, The Lost Summers of Newport, are back to thrill readers with another pageturning mystery. Step inside the walls of the historic Castle Kinloch, where a literary superstar has been found dead. Agatha Christie meets Knives Out in their forthcoming novel, The Author’s Guide to Murder.

Join us to hear our three writers discuss their new novel. Tickets include heavy hors d’oeuvres and two drinks (catered by Grandover). Group tickets are available.

Sunday, November 10, 2024

2 — 4 p.m.

Grandover Resort & Spa, 1000 Club Road, Greensboro, NC 27407

Book your tickets today at:

September 2024

Static Apnea

Toes taste water before it swallows our bodies.

In a waterfall embrace— bones brush against mossy boulders.

Our skin succumbs to unknown atoms when the wild decides where we fall in.

The flow that washed away our sins is saving someone else by now.

Miles away— neck deep in a faith pool, we hold our breath to float above rock bottom.

— Clint Bowman

Clint Bowman’s debut full-length collection of poetry, If Lost, will be published September 5 by Loblolly Press.

WhotheFolk?

The N.C. Folk Fest celebrates a decade with a worldly line-up

By Billy ingram

“It’s our 10th anniversary and we’re coming home,” North Carolina Folk Festival Chief of Staff Savannah Thorne says, confiding that this year’s downtown musical gathering will strike a slightly different chord. From September 6–8, under new Executive Director Jodee Ruppel, some familiar headliners you’ve come to expect will take the stage, but, Thorne concedes, “we’re also packing the weekend full of musicians specifically from North Carolina. We really want to show off the best of our state.”

I suspect the term “Folk Music” has calcified in American minds — buffoonish imagery depicting raggedy-looking banjo plunkers, jug huffers, spoon clappers, corncob smokin’ hillbillies or perhaps six-string-strumming hippies packed into VW vans goin’ to San Fransisco with flowers in their hair.

I asked Savannah Thorne, who holds a degree in ethnomu-

sicology from UNCG, about the protoplasmic catalysts in our region responsible for the earliest percolations of this widely misunderstood genre. “Folk music in North Carolina goes all the way back to the early times,” she tells me. “From the 1700s to the 1800s, you have Irish and Scottish immigrants settling in Appalachia, often indentured servants who managed to gain some wealth and acquire a piece of land.”

That cultural absorption bumped up against indigenous tribes forced into higher elevations after white settlers appropriated ancestral lands. “Then you have enslaved people who are also up there trying to make a living,” Thorne adds. “And all four of these cultures start to weave together folk music.”

Societal injustices from that period meant that rhythmical utterances were often the only legit methods of expression allowed to the powerless. Out of that desire to communicate, came the

banjo and guitar from West Africa, rich singing traditions radiating outward from indigenous cultures, Irish and Scottish heritage gifting us with the fiddle. All of these melodious manifestations slowly unified into what we refer to as “old time,” the wellspring of folk music. After cotton mills lured workers from these emerging cultures down from the hills, harmonically aligning with Gullah immigrating from the coast, the Piedmont sound was born. Just one of a kaleidoscopic array of regional folk iterations.

Think of folk as an all-encompassing but never-to-be-finished tapestry, resplendent in hues of blues, jazz, hip-hop, rap, country, Tejano — whatever form the music takes, the underlying thread is authenticity rooted in cultural identity.

“Ethno USA is a partnership program that we have through the festival,” Thorne says about an underpinning of the Folk Fest we don’t see. “They’re a really fantastic example of international music sharing.” The Ethno program is a two- to three-week conference held in various cities around the globe, where musicians are flown in from all over the world to collaborate, fine-tune their skills, and expand each other’s musical horizons. “Then they play their music at the North Carolina Folk Festival. So you could hear anything from songs being shared from local indigenous communities to music from Chile, from Argentina, from Russia, incorporating all of these different languages.”

There is a shift in booking the festival this season. Instead of mass attractions such as Grandmaster Flash or George Clinton, who have both performed in past years, there’s a rock-steady beat of high-caliber entertainment across myriad musical fields. Look for Lumbee Indian- and Oglala Lakota-rooted guitarist and songwriter Lakota John; Grammy- and Country Music Associationnominated husband-and-wife duo The War and Treaty, who scored the hit single “Hey Driver” with Zach Bryan, leading to them opening for the Rolling Stones in July; Texican rockers Los Lonely Boys, whose infectious 2004 Grammy-winning No. 1 hit “Heaven” has never stopped lighting up jukeboxes. Then, closing out the festivities in a mellow tone will be Chapel Hill string band balladeers Mipso, who’ll bring down-home to downtown.

Musicians in town from around the Tar Heel State embody that spirit of stylistic assimilation: traditional Appalachian

steeped crooners Holler Choir out of Asheville; Pentecostal gospel-inspired Dashawn Hickman Presents Sacred Steel featuring Wendy Hickman; the electric R&B sounds of Charlotte’s Emanuel Wynter; then there’s ice cold countrytime refreshment from this year’s barnstorming semi-finalist on The Voice, Tae Lewis.

This year’s festival will go a long way to rectify a fatal flaw I’ve complained about for, well, a decade — that there wasn’t enough emphasis on local musicians. “I feel like in a lot of ways Greensboro has been overlooked when it comes to the North Carolina music scene,” Savannah Thorne observes. “This is a rebrand for the festival. We really want to focus on making Greensboro the musical hub of the East Coast that we all know it is.”

I wonder at times if this city suffers from a municipal form of imposter syndrome, a subconscious belief that artists remaining in Greensboro must somehow be inferior to those that fled for more lucrative locales. The way music distribution is set up today, location is irrelevant. In the past, one needed to relocate to New York, L.A. or some other showbusiness hub to be in the game. That’s no longer true; artists are free to stay, and many are choosing to do so.

This year’s local lineup should forever dispel any possible imposter syndrome dysphoria. In addition to the Sam Fribush Organ Trio (see this month’s “Wandering Billy,” page 45), Colin Cutler and Hot Pepper Jam’s juke joint jive will have audiences bouncing like rod puppets. Many band members of Unheard are graduates from UNCG’s esteemed Miles Davis Jazz Studies Program, a defining undercurrent in their seem-

ingly unstructured yet somehow traditional sounding jam sessions. Grinding out unbridled, guitar-driven Southern grit is Old Heavy Hands, firing up a live set embrued with anthemic energy.

As for Savannah Thorne — she’s dreaming big. “My goal for the Folk Festival is to be the largest free festival on the East Coast in the next two years.” That would entail attracting over 200,000 enthusiasts to downtown Greensboro. “Already the festival has a $20 million impact on Greensboro as a result of the jobs created and all the musicians that end up getting paid.” By focusing on North Carolina musicians this year, she adds, “We have a really fantastic return on investment in that way, and we’re putting our money back into Greensboro.”

country girl

R issi PalmeR

With a singing style rightfully described by Blues Blast Magazine as having “an uplifting, other-worldly quality,” North Carolina based composer-performer Rissi Palmer apparently has a protean refusal to drop that proverbial needle before letting it sail into a single groove, even when it proves to be highly successful. This Grammy-nominated artist released her latest recording just last summer, an inspirational three-song EP entitled “Still Here”, demonstrating that, not only is she indeed persistently present, but, armed with vocals as perfect as pearls, she’s a righteous songwriter with plenty to say. Tuned-in people are listening

Residing in Durham, Rissi Palmer has been allowing that inner songbird to soar since her childhood; “I actually have a picture of me at age four, standing on a milk crate to reach the microphones.” At 19, she was offered a record deal from Terry Lewis and Jimmy Jam but, “I ended up turning it down and didn’t get another deal until I was 26.”

That signing resulted in her 2007 freshman album, Rissi Palmer, from which the single “Country Girl” catapulted this uncaged canary to the attention of the public, becoming the first Black woman in two decades to hit the Billboard Hot Country Songs chart. That same year, she debuted at the Grand Ole Opry, subsequently appearing at the White House and Lincoln Center. Coincidentally, this all took place just as Taylor Swift’s

first chart-topper, “Tim McGraw,” was kicking up country dust alongside her. I had to ask. “This was at the beginning of both of our careers,” Palmer recalls with a chuckle. “We played quite a few new artist rounds together for radio stations. I was her opener for a music festival in Wisconsin — she was a baby at the time. I think she was 15.”

While Rissi Palmer’s first album was unabashedly country, it’s safe to say, over the course of six ensuing recordings, assorted singles and videos, and after thousands of miles circling the globe, her direction and perspective are ever-evolving, “As I’ve gotten older — thanks to being an independent artist — I’ve had an opportunity to explore different sides of my influences. So I don’t know that it’s particularly fair to people who are traditional country artists to call what I do country.” She began calling her style “Southern Soul,” a boldly-blended Chex Mix of country, R&B, gospel, pop, “and all those things that I listened to and loved as a child.”

Written in 2014, initially recorded in 2018, Palmer’s stark protestation “Seeds” gets a galvanic redux on Still Here. It’s an uncomfortable yet ultimately uplifting ballad that reverberates as profoundly as “A Change is Gonna Come,” Sam Cooke’s puissant cri de coeur of the early-’60s.

“I wrote “Seeds” with Deanna Walker and Rick Baresford,” Palmer explains. Baresford has written #1 country hits for icons

like George Jones while Walker is a prolific tunesmith teaching songwriting at Vanderbilt University. “We’ve been writing songs together for years.”

Having grown up in St. Louis, Missouri, with close friends in the nearby Ferguson community, Palmer confesses the idea grew from a sense of powerlessness surrounding the 2014 murder of 18-year-old Michael Brown. “I wanted to say something, but, to be perfectly frank with you, I couldn’t think of anything positive to say — and I tend to be a pretty positive person. I understood why people were angry, why they were hurt.” When running across a quote from Greek poet Dinos Christianopoulos — They tried to bury us, they didn’t know we were seeds — inspiration hit. “I was like, that’s the way to look at this.”

Palmer had the misfortune of releasing an album in October 2019, subsequently booking all of 2020 to promote it. But, like everyone else, she ended up at home, “with my kids, teaching questionable math and making bread.”

That’s when the idea of her “Color Me Country” radio program came about. “One of my best friends was teasing me,” she says. “She was like, ‘Girl, you need to put all this information that you have about country music and do something with this and not just talk to me on the phone about it.’” In 2020, Linda Martell’s “Color Me Country” album, which the show is named after, celebrated its 50th anniversary. Palmer began by dialing up other country artists she was acquainted with. “I wasn’t exactly sure what this was going to be, but I wanted it to be conversations — not interviews. That’s why I started with people that I knew. We’re now in our fourth season and it has blossomed into exactly what I wanted it to be.”

Demeanor’s branching out.

Demeanor tornados his self-reflexive pop smoke, charged with je-ne-sais-quoi energy, into the atmosphere, a major highlight of the weekend.

Born and raised in the Gate City, “I come from a very musical family,” Demeanor mentions casually. To say the least. He began playing banjo and bones around the age of 12, partially inspired by his aunt, Greensboro’s own Rhiannon Giddens. “She started the Carolina Chocolate Drops and Sankofa Strings when I was just learning what a banjo was. I grew up traveling around with her, listening to the music. It was just something so different than what I was listening to.” This young man mostly had New Edition, Bobby Brown and hip hop CDs spinning at home but, “I’d go out with [Giddens] to these old-time festivals, bluegrass festivals, and I was like, whoa, this is very vibrant.”

Keep in mind, this was before his aunt’s astonishing rise to fame, before landing her MacArthur Genius Grant, winning two Grammys and a Pulitzer, and NPR proclaiming her one of the “25 Most Influential Women Musicians of the 21st Century.”

As a teenager whose mother was Giddens’ tour manager, Demeanor (he was Justin Harrington then) accompanied his family on the road during summer breaks from school. “We’re packed into a 10-seater van, just hoofing it in Missouri and the AC doesn’t work . . . ” Insert multiple anything that can go wrong will go wrong stories here . . . “I got the real-deal touring experience, which I don’t think really exists in the same way anymore.” His advanced education consisted of loading equipment in and out, rapping breaks on stage, working merch tables, learning every aspect of the touring process. “That’s definitely impacted my career, having that background first — before streaming — understanding what selling records was like.”

In 2017, after a year at the University of Cincinnati CollegeConservatory of Music, Demeanor joined Rhiannon Giddens’ Freedom Highway Tour. “When I got back to Greensboro I started booking my own shows. There was a class of us; Reliably Bad, Bad People, Antion Scales.” Methodically, Demeanor built a reputation as an independent artist the old-fashioned way. “There weren’t that many venues, so I was playing house shows. It was like bootcamp.”

In 2019, he participated in One Beat, a fellowship where musicians from some 20 countries come together to write and perform new music. Two years later, he became the first rapper to perform a full set at the Newport Folk Festival. “They were kind of first looking at me as — a rapper who plays the banjo? Like, is this a gimmick? Or what is this?”

But, as Demeanor is quick to affirm, rap music is folk music. “I don’t separate the root from the branch,” he explains. “I think that when it comes to music, we separate roots as its own thing. Whereas I’m kind of looking at it as, hey, even our roots have roots, and then those roots have roots.”

Immersed in a purposeful state of unwavering reinvention, transcending generational euphemisms, Demeanor attacks his original compositions with an unmistakable fearlessness, an almost undetectable vulnerability peering out from under rapturous lyrical onslaughts. As for his turn at the Folk Festival this year, “I definitely want this on the record,” Demeanor insists. “I’m so excited about my set. I think that this is going to be something that has never happened before, ever in America, ever. This is going to be one for the books for sure.”

I think he means it. OH

Meet the Makers

After a five-year hiatus, Westerwood’s art walk and studio tour returns

By Cassie Bustamante

Ann Lynch

Twenty years ago, ceramicist Ann Lynch moved into the neighborhood of Westerwood and began working as the director of development for the United Arts Council of Greensboro. While in her job, she noticed something within the organization’s artist database: Westerwood was chock full of ’em. When Lynch, as she puts it, “luckily got to stop working in 2008,” an idea took shape in her mind: like clay in her hands: the city’s first and only meet-the-artists-in-theirstudios walking tour.

Lynch approached her Fairmont street neighbors, fiber artist Paige Cox and reduction linoleum printmaker Marianna Williams, who became instrumental in making the vision a reality. In mid-June of 2009, they held a meeting to gauge interest on launching an art walk and studio tour the first weekend of October, only a few months away. Thanks to an enthusiastic response, “We pulled it together very quickly,” says Lynch, adding that she recalls Paige saying, “Who says artists can’t be organized?”

Of course, a catchy name was a must. In a fit of giggles, Lynch and Cox recall a fellow artist suggesting “Bomb Diggity.” After all, it was the 2000s. “We tossed that out,” says Lynch. On a walk in the mountains, Lynch’s husband, Russ, said to her, “We should call it Art & Sole, S-O-L-E.”

For the next 10 years on the first Saturday of October, art lovers would stroll through the charming neighborhood, visiting 20 or so Westerwood studios and, to the delight of the artists, pur-

chasing tons of art. But in 2020, as the world shut down due to COVID, Art & Sole reached what Lynch calls “a natural death.”

This year, thanks to two Atlanta transplants, it’s being revived.

Chandra Young, an “appreciator of art,” says she and husband Ed, a participating artist, moved to Westerwood in 2013 because of Art & Sole. Acrylic painter and photographer Parlee Noonan and her husband, Patrick, had been friends with the Youngs for two decades. Ready for a change, they sought small-city living within drivable distance to their second home in Boone. After visiting the Youngs, they found themselves comparing everything else to Westerwood — and nothing measured up. Last year, they said goodbye to Atlanta and hello to Greensboro.

Before she even moved into their new Westerwood home, Noonan recalls with a laugh how Young said to her, “We have to get Art & Sole going again!”

With Noonan at the helm and Young by her side, Art & Sole has once again found footing. And the aim is to keep Lynch’s original vision alive, celebrating the creative community of Westerwood. This year, you can lace up and log your steps while visiting 31 artists from 10 a.m.–5 p.m., Saturday, October 5.

“We all feel like we are living in a really special place and it’s nice to be able to show it off,” says Young.

Information, visit westerwoodneighborhood.com/art-sole.

Jayme White

Parlee Noonan

Audrey Sage

John Gibbs

Victoria Clegg

Art & Sole Art Walk & Studio Tour

October 5, 2024, rain or shine • 10:00 am - 5:00 pm

1 1503 Mimosa Dr. Karine Thoresen

2 417 Hillcrest Dr. Dafne Sánchez

3 211 Hillcrest Dr. Patrick Rowe

4 1405 Northfield St. Teresa Owens

5 208 Aberdeen Terr. Audrey Sage

6 310 Aberdeen Terr.

Margaret Godwin

7 306 E Lake Dr. Michael Northuis

8 1007 Fairmont St. Don Morgan

9 1006 Fairmont St. Jayme White

10 905 Fairmont St. Edwin Young

11 908 Fairmont St. Paige & Riley Cox

12 904 Fairmont St. Martha Garrett

13 902 Fairmont St. Verónica Grossi

14 306 Crestland Ave.

Victoria Clegg, Ann Lynch

15 308 Woodlawn Ave. Leslie Burnside

16 405 N Mendenhall St. Ashe Engebretson

17 212 Wilson St. Alisha Wielfaert

18 310 Hillside Dr. Dan Nicholson

19 1006 Courtland St. Hannah & Neal Persinger

20 810 Courtland St. Evan Morrison

21 518 N Mendenhall St. April Simmons

22 601 N Mendenhall St.

Michael Gleason

23 611 N Mendenhall St. Anne Cassity

24 507 Woodlawn Ave.

Parlee Noonan, Hollis Oberlies, Scott Pope, Beth Sheffield

25 509 Woodlawn Ave.

John Gibbs

Director David Holley tells timeless stories on the stage

By ross Howell Jr.

PHs By lynn Donovan

hat happens in the Greensboro “Opera” Company’s production of Gian Carlo Menotti’s Amahl and the Night Visitors is magical. But it doesn’t happen by magic.

When David Holley, general and artistic director of the company and director of opera at UNCG, invited me to rehearsals last November, I jumped at the chance. After all — I hadn’t attended a rehearsal since playing clarinet in high school band practice!

So there I sit, in UNCG’s beautifully renovated and modernized auditorium, on a Tuesday night after Thanksgiving. The company is just two weeks from opening at Callicutt Auditorium, located in High Point University’s Congdon Hall.

The scene at the rehearsal seems anything but magical: Individuals dressed in casual clothes are milling about the auditorium and on stage, chatting and laughing. I notice that the singer who plays Amahl’s mother is wearing knee pads. The stage lighting seems harsh, casting shadows and washing out colors.

An accompanist at a piano on stage is talking with a boy who’s leaning on a crutch, a wooden flute slung over his shoulder. That’s Amahl, of course, aka Thomas Burns, the 10-year-old soprano from the Burlington Boys Choir who’s playing the part.

For a few moments I speak with Greensboro native John Warrick, a performer in the chorus. He tells me he received his musical part via PDF, learning it on his own long before rehearsals began.

Then, at a table next to the orchestra pit, a young woman seated with her back to the audience rises and turns. She has raven-black hair that hangs down her back.

This is Hanna Atkinson, the stage manager. Hers is not a role that immediately comes to mind when you think of the opera, but you soon realize she’s indispensable. Opera has lots of moving parts.

“Rehearsal is open,” she announces. “Chorus should come to the stage. Kings should come to the bench.” She gestures to the row of four metal chairs upstage representing the “bench.”

Warrick heads off to join his colleagues.

The director and cast run through several scenes, and soon I realize why Amahl’s mother is wearing knee pads. There’s a lot of lying down and getting up from “bed” before the kings arrive. But there are no beds, only the bare stage floor taped to indicate them, so the actors kneel or recline.

After a humorous singing exchange where Amahl tells his incredulous mother that he sees one . . . then two . . . then three kings knocking at their “door,” the kings make their entrance oneby-one and sit down on the “bench.”

The character Ahmal is disabled, so through all the scenes rehearsed, Thomas must hobble about the stage on his crutch, dragging a foot.

“Thomas, your timing was perfect,” Holley says. “You brought them in perfectly.”

The kings are about to sing. Holley nods to the pianist, then raises his baton.

“Thomas?” Holley asks, craning his head around to look downstage. “Where are you going?”

Thomas is carrying his crutch in one hand, a sneaker in the other. He walks to the edge of the stage, drops the sneaker into the darkness, then hobbles back on the crutch to take his mark near the kings, having realized it’s easier to drag his foot in a sock across the stage instead of in a rubber-soled sneaker.

Holley nods and I smile. Too bad the grownups didn’t think of that.

The rehearsal continues. There’s a glitch when the kings enter from the back of the auditorium and miss the row they’re supposed to turn on to access the stage. The procession has to regroup and start all over again.

PHotogra

“Remember as you come in to watch my beat,” Holley says. “Don’t listen for it — watch, or you’ll fall behind the tempo.”

“And hit your marks,” he adds. “Otherwise, you’ll get all bunched up.”

The rehearsal lasts about two hours.

All the while, director Holley coaches, cajoles, encourages, praises. He reminds his singers to tell their choirs, church groups and friends to attend the performances. He reminds the kings that they’ll meet the following evening for practice.

Then stage manager Atkinson announces the rehearsal is closed. I feel as though I’ve been watching a documentary. And in my heart of hearts, I’m wondering, Will this turn out OK?

After very successful performances at High Point University, the company has returned for a final dress rehearsal at UNCG Auditorium, where they’ll present their closing performances of the season.

Even outside the building, there’s a completely different vibe. Lots of case-carrying orchestra musicians are making their way toward the auditorium, for one thing.

Lynn Donovan, the photographer for this story, lets me in the front door, along with a young cellist who’s unfamiliar with the cast entrance location at the side of the building. Donovan takes off to finish setting up her gear as the musician hurries across the lobby.

As I’m crossing the lobby, I see Thomas Burns emerging from a dressing room in full costume. A woman holds a crutch and wooden flute by the door. Turns out to be a happy surprise.

I recognize her — Patti Burns, lecturer of French at Elon

University. We’d met, because I shared an office with her husband, Dan Burns, assistant professor of English, back when I taught part-time at Elon.

When I ask her about being a stage mother, we both laugh, and Thomas looks doubtful.

“Do I know you?” he asks.

“No,” I say. “But I was working with your father the year you were born.”

Thomas gives me a wary look and takes his mother’s hand. They head for the stage, and I find a seat in the audience, settling in for another night at the opera.

A few members of the cast have not yet retreated behind the curtain. I can hardly recognize their faces, since they’re in full makeup and costume. The kings have beards and flowing robes. The faux jewels in their costumes glitter.

The orchestra is invisible, though I can hear them in the pit warming up. I caught a glimpse of Holley as I walked in, but he too is now invisible.

A single trumpet player runs through scales. The strings are tuning. I can hear the strains of a harp, the muffled thumps of percussion. The violin flourishes run faster and faster. The brass and woodwinds grow louder. Then, suddenly, there’s silence.

At 7:01 p.m., the house lights go dark. Immediately, I hear Holley’s voice.

“One of the spotlights isn’t working,” he calls. I hear a voice in the wings respond, then watch as a big man ascends a ladder until he is out of sight.

I hear a clink, and the light comes on.

There’s a scattering of applause and laughter in the orchestra pit, and then, Holley’s voice.

“Let’s hear it for Scott Garrison!” he says. Garrison is the auditorium’s technical director.

There’s louder clapping, flourishes from the violins. The curtain rises.

The empty, garishly lit stage I saw at my first rehearsal is transformed, bathed in the deep blues and purples of night. There is a wall, a door, a bench. Rough-hewn pallets for sleeping. The set is bathed in warm, yellow light. A single star, the star the kings are following, shines brightly in the midnight blue firmament.

“Thomas, give me a G,” Holley says. He wants to make certain the boy has the right pitch for the Amahl solo they’re about to rehearse.

Thomas sounds the note and the music begins.

There’s still tweaking. Sound amplification for the first violins section is improved. Additional adjustments are made to the stage lighting. There are corrections in tempo, pitch and spoken lines. It’s a rehearsal, after all.

When the kings make their entrance from the rear of the auditorium — honestly — it’s thrilling. Voices booming, perfect tempo, perfect spacing. I hold my breath as they ascend steps to reach the ramp onto the stage, but no one trips on those long, beautiful robes.

Thomas’s soprano voice nicely resonates with the eagerness and purity of youth. The arias Amahl’s mother sings are beautiful and moving. And a pair of dancers, choreographed by Holley’s colleague in the UNCG school of dance, Michael Job, enhance the chorus’s welcoming celebration for the kings.

Later, Holley calls individual performers downstage, almost like a curtain call. Some musicians in the orchestra play short solos. The mood is celebratory. Then, rehearsal is over.

Holley tells me Amahl and the Night Visitors is the ideal opera to introduce people to the art form.

“It’s short, it’s in English, it’s got beautiful singing, it’s got a wonderful orchestra, it’s got stunning visual arts, it’s got dance, it’s got choral music,” he says. “It’s the perfect opera in miniature form.”

And it’s magical.

While I know that you’re just as excited as I am to see Greensboro Opera Company’s next performance of Amahl and the Night Visitors, you’ll have to wait until a new production is scheduled.

Still, in October, you can take advantage of a very special opportunity. The company is presenting Don Giovanni, with music by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and libretto by Lorenzo Da Ponte.

Holley tells me the production will be a “semistaged concert version,” meaning the orchestra performs on stage, rather than being hidden in the pit. The singers, in full costume, perform the opera downstage, right in front of the audience.

For those of you whose command of the Italian language is like mine, never fear — an English translation of the lyrics will display above the stage during the performance.

Based on the Don Juan legend of a Spanish nobleman who takes pride in his ruthless ability to seduce women, the opera premiered in 1787 in the city of Prague, with Mozart himself conducting. Sources describe the audience response as “rapturous and jubilant.” Some critics call Don Giovanni Mozart’s “opera of operas,” one of three masterpieces he created with librettist Da Ponte.

“It’s a very exciting production,” says Holley. “The story of Don Juan is timeless,” he adds. “You find versions of it in many cultures.”

Here’s the lineup of performers.

Sidney Outlaw returns to the Greensboro Opera to sing the title role of Don Giovanni after playing Jake in Porgy and Bess Outlaw holds a B.A. in music performance from UNCG and a master’s from The Julliard School. He has performed internationally and is on the Manhattan School of Music faculty.

With a master’s of music from UNCG, Melinda Whittingon will sing the part of Donna Anna, a role she’s also performed with her home company, Opera Carolina, in Charlotte. She has sung with many operas, including The Metropolitan Opera in New York, and is an adjunct professor of voice at Davidson College.

Singing the role of Donna Elvira is Samantha Anselmo, who is pursuing doctoral studies in vocal performance and pedagogy at UNCG. Previously, she taught music and voice classes at the University of Southern Alabama. She has performed in two Mozart operas, Così fan tutte and The Magic Flute.

With a master’s degree of music in vocal performance from UNCG, Amber Rose plays the part of Zerlina in Don Giovanni. She performed recently in Opera Carolina’s production of Madame Butterfly and was the soprano soloist in Mozart’s Coronation Mass with the Masterworks Chorus of the Palm Beaches.

Another UNCG alum, Christian Blackburn, holds a master’s degree of music performance and is singing the role of Masetto, which he has previously performed with the North Carolina Opera in Raleigh. He has taken a step back from fulltime performing and runs a financial planning and advisory practice in Greensboro.

Donald Hartmann plays the role of Commendatore. He is both a UNCG alum and a colleague of Holley’s, earning his bachelor’s and master’s degrees of music, and serving as professor of voice in the college of visual and performing arts. He has performed more than 75 operatic roles in Europe, Canada and the U.S.

Holley is especially pleased that so many of his former students are returning to Greensboro to perform.

“That’s the beauty of the jobs I have,” he continues. “I wear these two hats — one as director of opera at UNCG; the other as general and artistic director of the Greensboro Opera Company.” In these roles, Holley not only trains young people who aspire to careers as singers, but also hires professionals to

perform with the Greensboro Opera.

“Almost all the singers who are doing Don Giovanni in October came through my program or are colleagues,” Holley says. “I would say the UNCG College of Visual and Performing Arts is the flagship institution of music in North Carolina.”

Holley muses for a moment.

“You know, opera in this country has a stereotype of not being accessible,” he continues. “People think of it being the fat lady with the spear and the horns and that’s not what it is.”

“Opera is the greatest storytelling on stage,” Holley says. “That’s what we do. We tell stories. We just happen to put it in a context that uses beautiful music, and music speaks to your soul in a way that words by themselves cannot.

A Magical Night Visitor

While the story of how the character Amahl came to life in Greensboro is special, an event at the closing performance of the opera this past holiday is astonishing.

The character, Amahl, made his first appearance on Christmas Eve, 1951, live, nationally broadcast in black-and-white on NBCTV’s Hallmark Hall of Fame. Composer Gian Carlo Menotti had insisted in his production notes that “the role of Amahl should always be performed by a boy.”

Twelve-year-old Chet Allen from Chillicothe, Ohio, was chosen for the part. He had been singing soprano with the famous Columbus Boychoir.

More than 5 million people watched the broadcast, making Amahl and the Night Visitors a Christmas tradition and young Allen a star. He landed other roles, but after his voice changed, his career was a disappointment. Bitter and divorced, he died after taking a fatal dose of antidepressants at the age of 44.

David Holley tells me that he sang the part of Amahl himself as an eighth-grader in Bernardsville, New Jersey.

“I didn’t even know it was an opera,” he laughs. “My grandmother taught me the part.”

Holley’s high school choir program was excellent — two directors he sang for had degrees from Westminster Choir College in nearby Princeton. Those directors had a strong influence on his musical career and were instrumental, he says, in his becoming a music director himself.

While student teaching for his degree in music education at Furman University, Holley realized he did not, in fact, want to be a high school choir director. Instead, he earned a master’s degree in opera performance at the University of Texas at Austin, then landed a teaching job at Howard Payne University in Brownwood, Texas, followed by a position at Southern Mississippi University in Hattiesburg.

Holley came to UNCG as the director of opera in 1992.

During his first semester, he got into a conversation with Bill McIver, who passed away in 2003.

Turns out, “Doc McIver” — as everyone called him — had played Amahl on national TV in 1952, the year after Allen. Like Allen, he had sung soprano with the Columbus Boychoir.

Just 9 years old in his first performance of Amahl and the Night Visitors, McIver would reprise the role for three more years, through 1955.

About that conversation, Holley says, “Things don’t happen just by accident.”

“I believe in God’s providence,” he adds.

“Bill had sung Amahl and I had sung it,” Holley continues. He felt a special connection with McIver. Moreover, his new colleague had worked with Menotti directly.

Holley asked McIver if he remembered what Menotti originally wanted in the staging of the opera. After all, it had been 40 years.

“Yeah,” McIver said. “I remember all of it.”

So Holley proposed they begin an annual production of the opera, with McIver stage directing and Holley conducting.

Their first production of Amahl and the Night Visitors was

first staged in 1993, and subsequently, on alternating years, through 1996.

The company performed the opera at Well-Spring Community in 2019, but, because of COVID, hadn’t staged it again until this past holiday season.

Which brings us to the astonishing event.

After the final performance of Amahl and the Night Visitors this past season, Holley was chatting with friends backstage. A woman approached and asked if she might interrupt.

“Yes, of course,” Holley said.

“My name is Margaret and I just wanted you to know that I am Chet Allen’s daughter,” she said.

Holley was dumbfounded.

“You mean, Chet Allen, the original Amahl?” he asked.

“Yes, he was my Daddy,” Margaret said. “I’m in Greensboro for a conference and I saw your ad for this production. And I knew I had to come.”

She paused, then added, “I still have Daddy’s crutch.”

Holley tells me he wondered what emotions must have welled up in Margaret’s heart when she heard the first few bars of music for the beautiful love theme between Amahl and his mother. He tells me he believes she was blessed by the production in a way he never could have planned.

“Remember, there are no accidents,” Holley says. “That was ordained.” OH

Ross Howell Jr. is a contributing writer. For more information on the Greensboro Opera Company and its productions, visit www.greensboroopera.org. Select productions of Amahl and the Night Visitors, including the original with Chet Allen and the subsequent version with Bill McIver, can be viewed on YouTube.

The Griffith Fine Art Museum at Red Oak Brewery

By CyntHia a Dams

“One day, Bill Sherrill said, ‘I need you here tomorrow at 1:30 on the dot.’ Was he firing me?” wondered Red Oak’s Anne Griffith. Due to illness, she had worked remotely even prior to COVID.

But now she was worried.

She found him “sitting at the sidewalk waiting for us to drive up.” A group stood outside the Lager Haus entrance where a large tarp concealed a sign.

With Griffith watching, fellow employee Joe Rickman stepped up, pulling the tarp away. She was shocked into speechlessness.

The sign proclaimed the future home of the Griffith Fine Art Museum.

The new museum was a testament to many things, including a collaboration between long-time friends.

“Bill had refused to put his name on it,” Griffith recalls

thinking. “I didn’t deserve it. He did. He had purchased it. It’s his collection. I feel like I didn’t do anything.” While she insists Sherrill had spent far longer collecting, even before knowing her, he argues that she shaped and refined his focus.

Sherrill is adamant. “Bullshit. I couldn’t have done it without her.” As his long-time art advisor, Griffith, who began working with Sherrill 30 years ago, was due the honor. Working in tandem, Griffith and Sherrill sourced more than 500 works of art, excluding sculptures displayed in the biergarten between the two buildings.

She says the true genesis of the museum and event center at the Red Oak campus began much earlier. The museum itself was five long years under construction — but decades more in amassing the collection still being inventoried at this writing.

Griffith shares a revealing anecdote about Sherrill from his youth. When he was in his 20s, journeying to Texas to purchase a

motorcycle, he returned with artwork instead.

Watercolors by artist Bogomir Bogdanovic in a Dallas, Texas, gallery caught his eye. Sherrill returned home with the artwork rather than the bike, having owned Indian, Honda and BMW bikes.

He kept the art, but not the motorcycles.

The two formally met in the 1990s when Griffith was eating at Spring Garden Bar and Grill at UNCG, one of Sherrill’s former brewpubs.

During lunch, Griffith openly admired the art on the restaurant’s wall, recognizing the work of her favorite North Carolina artist.

“I knew Jack Ketner and recognized the art as I had staged a show for him at Alamance County Firehouse Galleries,” she remembers. As early as the late ’80s and ’90s, Sherrill began collecting Ketner’s work.

Perhaps during her time as head of the Alamance Art Council, she had “almost certainly met Sherrill” during a Ketner opening. (Something which Sherrill confirms later.)

“I thought, ‘This is a man I want to get to know because he thinks like I do about art. A man who has good taste in art,’” she says. “He started talking to me about his life, and his history with artists and art.”

They came to better know one another in subsequent years, frequently comparing art tastes. At the time, she had left art administration and worked as a graphic artist. Her partner, Jimmy Allred, had begun working at Red Oak after losing a high-level state role, a political casualty, Sherrill explains.

“He came out to wash dishes at Franklin’s Off Friendly in a three-piece suit,” Sherrill recalls. “Of course, we put him to work, but not washing dishes.”

“Jimmy actually delivered the first keg of Red Oak beer!” explains Griffith, adding, “Bill kept telling me I was working myself to death . . . and that I should work for him.” She laughs at this, saying she jumped from the frying pan straight into the fire.

In 2005, Griffith was persuaded to come work at Red Oak after only one week’s retirement.

Initially, Sherrill installed a desk in a back room with the brew-

ers, where she was immersed in the daily business of Red Oak, the inner workings and logistics of the brewery. Griffith recalls trading six boxes of beer for a better desk and a better office.

“I learned the business from the bottom up,” she says, observing the daily workings of what was fast becoming the state’s pre-eminent brewery, assisting with graphics for the bustling business.

In turn, Griffith shared her art training, education and important art associations, including her close friend Ben Williams, the first curator of the North Carolina Museum of Art (NCMA). It was an auspicious connection as Williams was charged with creating the NCMA collection.

“When Kerr Scott was governor, he got a million dollars to build a museum of art, and Ben Williams was then in Paris,” Griffith explains. “He called Ben and told him to come home to build the collection.”

Sherrill visited Williams’ home in nearby Yanceyville and admired his personal collection. “He had a couple of Francis Speight paintings, which I grew really interested in,” he recalls.

“He seriously collected Speight later,” Griffith adds. “Bill and I both gravitate to those paintings.”

Together, Sherrill and Griffith logged untold hours visiting galleries, shows and museums while spending weekends searching auctioned works.

They made a pact to only buy what both liked.

As Griffith terms it, the collaborators were “hunting” for artworks. “We actually taught each other,” she says. Sherrill “was serious before I began hunting with him.”

“He would go to artworks and shows. He noticed art for sale in galleries when he traveled,” she says.

Flushing out their quarry, especially works by North Carolina artists, intensified.

The relationship between Griffith, an artist, and Sherrill, a hungry collector since young adulthood, grew familial.

Griffith cast a wide net via national auction houses, as well as longtime mainstay Leland Little in Hillsborough.

“We had Shannon’s in Connecticut, Swann Galleries in New York, Freeman’s, Gratz, Pook & Pook and Rago auction house” says Sherrill.

“Doyle, Brunk, Neil and Hindman,” she adds. Initially he relied upon art magazines to find works.

“Bill wasn’t much of a computer person,” she adds. “He’s become more of one in recent years. It’s something I mainly did.”

The art duo created a shorthand when scanning online art auctions, Griffith explains. “We finish each other’s sentences when discussing whether to buy or not to buy. It’s like talking to myself.”

“He’s right brain/left brain. Creating beer, creating flavors, is creative. But he has the right brain activity with the business side. Buying art uses his creative side, too.”

She believes “it’s rare to run into a right brain/left brain person . . . usually one side is much more dominant. Bill is a DaVincitype man.”

As the collection expanded into hundreds of artworks, sculptures and collectibles, it outgrew not only Sherrill’s home but even spilled into a tack room. It covered all available brewery walls and

offices at Red Oak and even the gift shop.

The sprawling private collection had finally “morphed into adding a museum,” says Griffith, who kept copious notes while cataloguing when not designing graphics.

Sherrill visited museums in the North and Southeast and out West seeking ideas on display and storage.

In 2019, with Boyd Chatman as lead contractor, Red Oak broke ground on a 12,000-square-foot building adjacent to the Lager Haus.

(Sherrill unreservedly praises Chatman, who has been involved with most of his buildings in the past decade. “He is one of the finest men I ever met.”)

Hampered by the pandemic, the new building proceeded slowly.

Months later, Griffith is still ambivalent about accepting the honor of museum naming.

“I was telling Jimmy that it has taken blood, sweat and tears — and fright — to put this collection together,” she finally concedes, collecting her thoughts during interviews before the opening night.

“Blood? Yes! We’ve both had splinters from 19th-century canvas stretchers. Sweat? We both have sweated moving that collection from place to place to place.”

There were occasional tears, too, such as when a rare painting from a California gallery arrived damaged beyond repair. They gasped; the actual work was as beautiful as they had hoped, but ruined.

Despite such disappointments, the collection was honed, steadily incorporating works from the South and northward, acquiring artists from Bucks County and the Hudson River Valley.

For most of his life, Sherrill had long found artwork irresistible.

The Winston - Salem native bought his first piece of art in Old Salem while a college student — a watercolor he has kept.

Sherrill says the spark to understand and collect artwork was first lit by another Anne, Anne Joyes (now Mondon), when she was a young French au pair working in Virginia, and he was in

the Coast Guard during the Vietnam War. He dated Joyes “10–15 years,” frequently visiting her in Giverny, France.

A 50-year friendship endures. He ticks off what he has realized through friendship with Joyes, whose sister Claire was married to Jean-Marie Toulgouat, grandson of American impressionist Theodore Butler. (Toulgouat was also Claude Monet’s great-grandson by marriage, and grew up at Giverny, where he painted.)

Both of the Toulgouats “were on the board of the Monet house at different times. It really got me into art, because Jean-Marie had a number of Monets and his grandfather’s paintings.”

“One thing I learned from Anne and trips to France is I loved Impressionist paintings.” Another thing he picked up is that “art is much more interesting if there are people in the paintings — if they tell a story.”

Now, there are three Theodore Butler works in Sherrill’s mu-

seum’s collection. One is of Toulgouat’s house.

Sherrill’s second art acquisition was by Toronto artist Wolfgang Schilbach. He still owns the picture of a house on the prairie, which hung in his bedroom.

After eventually going on to earn a graduate degree in hotel administration from Cornell University, he “spent all my nickels on things I liked.”

And he liked art. In a world teeming with unusual art museums combining unlikely things, a personal favorite is the German Museum of Bread and Art in Ulm. The Museum Brot und Kunst, as it’s called, houses Rembrandts and Picassos as well as fundamentals of bread making.

Now, Red Oak Brewery, just off I-40/85 in Whitsett, may be the first of its kind, too, pairing fine art — in the newly opened Griffith Fine Art Museum— with fine beer.

Red Oak has steadily expanded its footprint since opening the expansive Lager Haus in 2018. The two-story-high, sleekly modern facility incorporates museum space and an event center. Combined with the existing Lager Haus, that equals 24,000 square feet for the two public buildings — excluding separate offices and Red Oak’s brewery operations, which opened on the 12-acre site in 2008.

Sharing an entrance with the museum, which opened on April 25, the Lager Haus patrons, as Sherrill envisions, can experience an array of art after enjoying his signature Bavarian-style lagers,

which draw appreciative fans.

His vision is similar to that of late Napa Valley winemaker and art collector Donald Hess, who created the Hess Persson Estates winery and museum complex, operating adjacent to the winery operations and tasting room. (Sherrill visited several years ago while building his museum.)

The two eclectic collections and museums — that of Hess and Sherrill — also invite other comparisons.

At Red Oak, the admission is free and the soaring museum spaces are exceptional. Also, the respective museums showcase their founders’ private art collections, while operating a thriving, spirited business.

If it seems intentional, it was. Sherrill believes that art should be shared with the public.

As soon as he graduated from Cornell, he put his degree to work, creating and operating restaurants. His first, a fine-dining establishment called Franklin’s Off Friendly, April 27, 1979.

Memorably, the upscale Guilford College restaurant was run by a crack staff. (Dennis and Nancy Quaintance met at Franklin’s when Nancy worked there during a Christmas break.) Restaurant reviews were praising. Despite winning repeated acclaim from critics (Franklins’ wine list won top praise from no less than Wine Spectator magazine), Sherrill felt unfulfilled and stressed.

Friend Nancy Willis, a Reiki practitioner, gave a salient warning.

Absent change, Sherrill would die young.

“I tried too hard,” he explains. He shut Franklin’ s down in 1989, reconfiguring it into a brewpub.

Beer making emerged as Sherrill’s chief focus. He took a new tack, selling beers to others as well as his own bars and grills, all made in the style of Bavarian lagers.

“We’ve only used one lager yeast strain for 34 years,” he says, also hewing almost religiously to the laws of purity that originated in Bavaria in 1516.

Meantime, Griffith explains her friend and colleague was simultaneously “loving art and dreaming of a museum.” A longtime idea, Sherrill admits.

Sherrill sought out art at auction and during travels. Works spilled over onto every inch of available wall space in his home and businesses. Initially unsuccessful in trademarking the name of one of his early beers, “Oak Ridge Amber,” he noticed Big Oak Drive-In on a mountain trek. That inspired the name “Red Oak” for his expanding lager-making operation.

Red Oak Brewery is now the oldest still-active brewery in the state.

Soon, too, a museum wasn’t merely a desire — it was a practical necessity for a robust collector whose drive to acquire art was on par with his ambitions for beer and lager making.

•

What is it like when a dream — an audacious dream at that — to build your own museum comes to life?

“I’m never looking back,” Sherrill answers after a pause. “I’m always looking forward.

He pauses again. “I’ve got a couple of projects coming up.”

“Try not to believe your own bullshit,” he comments drily.

Possibly influenced by his Moravian upbringing, Sherrill is known as private and self-effacing. He bats away compliments.

“I am so much luckier than someone who grew up in poverty.” He points out all the advantages of his birth: a good education and middle-class upbringing.

“I started at the 30-yard line,” he repeats frequently, making it clear he takes none of it for granted.

But on the night of the museum’s soft opening in April, Sherrill’s mood was bittersweet.

He moved amongst 100 guests, including Leland Little, sculptor Billy Lee, writers, bankers, an art restorer, art framers, Red Oak staff and assorted friends, such as Dr. Neville Gates and Nicole Shelton. Wearing a white Nehru-collared shirt and jacket with jeans, he was affable yet subdued.

Notably absent that night was Anne Griffith, Sherrill’s longtime friend and collaborator — and the museum’s namesake. Too ill to appear, he felt her absence.

As people experienced the sleek museum for the first time, Sherrill mentioned that much of the museum’s realization was owed to Griffith. Nearby, a pianist played a baby grand installed on the first floor for the occasion.

“The museum?” Sherrill repeated in clarification, “I credit much of this happening to her.”

Pointing proudly to his friend’s portrait hanging on a museum wall, his eyes welled.

“Doesn’t Anne look like a movie star?”

Shelton understood that Griffith was among his most important friends. She noted quietly that it visibly pained Sherrill that she couldn’t share in the moment they had both worked towards.

•

Having said a “a well-run business is a boring business,” Sherrill says the business of art is also about putting in the hours. If done well, it grows rote.

The inaugural show, “Southern Artists,” was curated by the museum’s first director, Susan Harrell, who has appeared in these pages, and features many of the collection’s early acquisitions.

“The first show is all Carolina-based artists,” says Sherrill.

Apart from blood, sweat and tears, Griffith believes Sherrill’s creative drive willed the museum into existence.

Those closest to the colorful businessman also describe a creative defiance of convention that allowed him to beat the odds. If one does whatever it is you love, Sherrill frequently insists, “then you never have to work another day.”

The entrepreneur loves art in equal measure to his lagers. Now a private museum, namesake of a valued friend and art guide, proves the point beyond any doubt. OH

To Visit:

The Griffith Fine Art Museum is open Thursday and Friday 4–8 p.m.; Saturday from 1-5 pm.

Reservations can be made online at: redoakbrewery.com/ art-Museum-tours/ Free admission, restricted to ages 21 and over.

The Gathering Barn

A family creates a haven for togetherness and healing

By Cassie Bustamante • PHotogra PHs By a

my Freeman

On a 100-acre woodland in Meadows of Dan, Virginia, a newly constructed barn sits in an open field, nestled against the edge of the Blue Ridge Mountains. While on the outside it appears to be a standard barn, beyond its sliding doors sits the makings of an apartment, a sleeping loft, a garage and a breezeway made for entertaining. Rayhaven, as Greensboro residents David and Allison Ray have dubbed it, is a place they’ve built for gathering and healing, both for their family and others.

In 2020, amidst a global pandemic, Allison and David recognized that their 16-year-old daughter, Savanna, a competitive rower, was showing symptoms of a heart condition. How did they know? A pulse oximeter.

Because Savanna’s grandparents are getting on in years and live nearby, they’d purchased one to check their own readings before visits to protect everyone against COVID. One day, they thought it would be fun to see just how low Savanna’s resting heart rate would be as an elite athlete. The result? “Her pulse was around 110,” recalls Allison. Dumbfounded, they went around the circle — Allison, David, younger son Luke (now 16), then back to Savannah. Again, 110 beats per minute. Plus, Allison says, Savanna had been experiencing some dizziness, which they attributed to the extremity of her sport: “In rowing it’s very intense. Kids row and puke in a bucket and keep rowing. Grit is kind of a thing!”

A visit to her doctor confirmed that there were some unusual things happening in Savanna’s body. Her doctor immediately ordered an echocardiogram and, from there, she was sent to get an MRI. The results did not provide the Rays the answers they desperately needed.

“There was a lot of mystery surrounding it,” says Allison. “And the only thing you can really do is just wait.” That wait would be three to four months filled with uncertainty. “As a parent, there’s nothing worse.”

Almost overwhelmed by the magnitude of what she had just learned, she turned to something that had helped her so often before: the solace and solitude that, in the past, a stroll around Country Park had offered. There, surrounded by nature, she allowed herself time to weep and collect her thoughts.

“I was getting so caught up in work and superficial things,” she admits. While much of the world’s workforce had found their jobs coming to a halt, as a busy CPA, Allison was still tackling spreadsheets, no end in sight. “OK, if this is a lesson for me,” she recalls saying to the powers that be, “don’t use her to teach me . . . If this is my wake-up call, I am awake.”

Determined not to overthink or overreact, she stepped away from the computer, tuned out the noise of the world around her and leaned into what her heart told her to do. “I just remember thinking, well, either my daughter is dying and I have to be the best version of myself because this is precious time. Or we’re going to be fine and I need to — in gratitude — be the best version of

myself.” Either way, she says, “the answer was the same.”

For Allison, that meant slowing down and shifting her focus to “what matters — it’s family and love.”

She needed exactly what Country Park offered her that day — nature and a place to hike without people all around her. But as so many people sought a safe escape from home in the early pandemic days, trails became overloaded. And, with potentially two mystery illnesses on their hands — COVID and whatever was attacking Savanna’s heart — the Ray family decided to find a property where they could walk their own trails and spend time together.

With Allison’s ability to crunch the numbers financially and David’s work in residential real estate — everything from brokerage to rental property ownership — the idea of owning another property didn’t scare them. The couple spent months looking, which helped them really hone in on what was precious to them. Not only that, but their road trips to look for land offered a distraction from a potentially grim reality.

David says, it helped “to be looking to the future” — one that included their family wading in rivers, encountering woodland critters and stargazing beside a fire pit.

After looking as far as West Virginia, the couple realized they wanted something closer that they could easily get to for even something so short as a day trip. In Meadows of Dan, only 76 miles from Greensboro, they discovered a listing for 40 acres.

With the help of their Realtor, Karen Wilson of Five Star Mountain Realty, who knew the land and each parcel’s owners, the Rays were able to purchase several pieces around that original property, acquiring a total of 100 acres. “Our most premium piece was landlocked,” recalls David. “And we unlocked it by combining it with the things around it.” Now they have unfettered right of way and one mile of river frontage.

“The Dan River is known particularly for turning and this is a particularly tight turn, which is why we have so much frontage,” says David. Plus, he adds, another border features a tributary creek.

“It really came together nicely,” says David of the total property.

“It felt kind of heaven sent,” Allison chimes in.

And right around the time they closed on their new property, they received what David calls their “first not bad news.” Savanna’s heart did not seem to be failing. She was making progress in the right direction.

“It was a very optimistic day,” says Allison. “But in all of this, nothing is definitive.” They’d have to await a second positive report before the doctors would definitively say that she had really improved.

They found that family trips to the land, including with their

Brittany spaniel, Winter, brought them much needed joy.

David sits on the sofa of their New Irving Park home, Winter’s copper-and-white head lazily resting in his lap. “You want to see this lump on the couch turn into a real dog,” he says, “all you gotta do is take her up there.”

“She’s kind of a mini-human in Greensboro,” adds Allison. “And at Rayhaven, Winter is a dog.” Generally shy of lakes and pools, the family pet jumps gleefully into the Dan River, her exhilaration contagious.

“We would just all laugh,” Allison says about watching their beloved dog come into her intrinsic nature. “And we needed to laugh.”

What appealed to Winter the most was also what appealed to them — the freedom to roam riverside. And in the river — waders on or barefooted. While the property had once been owned by a logger who’d forged many paths, they needed cleaning up. “I have a chainsaw now!” Allison says proudly.

“Clearing trails,” she adds, “there’s a meditation in it.”

Once, the couple rode their ATV along a trail to continue clearing work, turned a corner and discovered that a large tree had fallen. Standing there, looking at the huge tree that blocked their path, they suddenly began to draw parallels with what their family was facing. “It’s not your plan,” says Allison, “but you lean into it and pace yourself.”

Of course, they knew that finding a builder in a small moun-

tainside community to create a rough barn-style home would be another challenge. Again, their solution seemingly came through divine intervention.

“We’re walking in the meadow on our property and our neighbor comes out and we start talking,” Allison recalls.

“And when we say neighbor, you can’t see his house,” adds David. “He comes through the woods because he’s wondering who’s trouping through the woods next to his house.”

That neighbor was Bonssi Vincenti, a commercial and residential builder who’d actually worked with Greensboro’s Landmark Construction for years and now runs his own business in Meadows of Dan. Just like that, they had their builder.

“He commuted in his tractor!” David says with a chuckle.

The Rays put a lot of thought into planning their barn, which they’d dubbed “The Gathering Barn.” Almost like a mud room, the entire structure had concrete floors throughout that accommodated wheelchairs and were dog-friendly. Rough sleeping accommodation were provided for stay-over family and friends and there’s even a sink for cleaning fish: “Purpose-built for gathering,” says Allison.

“For us, financially, this was a big leap of faith,” says David, adding that the couple decided to occasionally rent it, but mainly use it for themselves.

“A friend brought her youth group and they did their retreat up there,” says Allison. And, on Easter weekend this past spring, a young couple booked the property to tie the knot. Allison’s

chocolate eyes sparkle at thoughts of her own daughter’s future. “Savanna said, ‘Maybe one day I will have my wedding or rehearsal dinner there.’”

Overall, the barn is approximately 60 feet wide and 40 feet deep, divvied up into 20-foot-wide segments. On one side, tucked away behind sliding glass doors off the breezeway, sits much more than one would expect, essentially the makings of an apartment: two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, kitchen, laundry and even an office space. “We worked so hard on engineering every inch of that space to have maximum usage,” says Allison.

On the other side is a largely open space they’re now using as a garage for their ATV. It also has the rough bunk space that sleeps seven to eight. Downstairs in the bunk side is where you’ll find the industrial sink and another large bathroom — including a big shower to hose off the dog.

In between both, the breezeway holds a table and chairs for playing games or enjoying cocktails from the rolling bar Allison had Vincenti build from plans she drew on a napkin.

But the real heart of the home-away-from-home is the fire pit just beyond the barn’s back door. Whether it’s in the morning with a cup of coffee or with a glass of wine looking up at the evening sky, the family can often be found relaxing in the seats surrounding it.

In fact, Allison recalls seeing several shooting stars, which she calls “angel winks,” when they were first scoping out the property. Because there’s such little light pollution, they can even see the

Milky Way from the comfort of their Adirondack chairs.

While the Rays managed to eke every possible intended use out of their barn and forge new paths on the land, they relied on beloved friend and interior designer, Lee Miller, owner of Luckenbach Designs — named after her maiden name — to make it feel like a home. Allison met Lee years ago and hired her to help with their New Irving Park residence. Quickly, the two became close — kindred spirits, according to Lee.

Before planning the design, Lee took a trip to see the property with the Rays, specifically the spot where the barn would sit. “The minute I saw it,” she says of the view from there, “I just got tingly.”

Soon, Lee was on a roll, accumulating pieces in the Rays’ Greensboro garage — everything from art to furniture, even bedding.

“She’s got a great eye,” says Allison of her friend, whom she refers to as a “Red Collection maniac.”

“Every time I am going up, I am carrying a trailer full of stuff,” David recalls with a laugh. That “stuff” would be placed in a shipping container intended for construction supplies.

But Lee understood the needs of her friends and knew just how to marry practicality with aesthetics while sticking to a budget.

As it turns out, The Gathering Barn ended up being a place of purpose for Lee, too. “But it’s her story to tell,” Allison says.

Meanwhile, Savanna’s health also kept moving in the right direction, though the Rays still didn’t have a diagnosis. And tragically, her pediatric cardiologist passed away suddenly. Savanna had just turned 18 — officially an adult.

Thanks to a friend’s referral, the Rays found Savanna a cardiologist, Dr. Steven Klein, who saw her rather quickly. “I call him Saint Steve,” says Allison. As it turns out, Dr. Klein was also a rower and the first medical professional to really grasp Savanna’s feelings toward her sport throughout this process, asking her if she’d grieved for what was lost.

“She was one of the rowers that was being considered at college level and she was doing it with a bad heart,” says David. “And so it was like, it was a double whammy because she’s like, ‘How good could I have been?’”

At that moment, “Savanna just burst into tears and sobbed,”

Designed on Purpose

“Nobody ever thought I would live,” says Lee Miller, looking back. Unknown to her, she’d contracted sepsis, a potentially lifethreatening condition in which the body dramatically overreacts to an infection. When a coworker hadn’t heard from her, she grew concerned and showed up with the police and Lee’s brother, Eric Luckenbach. The group discovered Lee on the couch in her Irving Park home.

Eric thought she was already gone, but the policeman shook Lee. She opened her eyes once — enough to let them know she was still alive in there.

says Alison. “And it was super healing for her — and for me to see that healing in her.”

Dr. Klein was able to finally offer them a medical diagnosis: myocarditis, an inflammation of the heart muscle that is usually caused by a viral infection. While it can lead to sudden death — especially with athletes — it usually will resolve itself over time.

And has Savanna’s cleared up? “She has some autonomic body regulatory things that can still cause some dizziness,” says Allison. “But we did, just a handful of months ago, get a definitive — and her best — MRI of her heart functioning, where she’s squarely in normal zones.”

These days, 20-year-old Savanna is enrolled at UNC-Chapel Hill, where she’s studying public policy. At the time of this writing, she was off on a European adventure, studying abroad. Over the summer, Luke, who Allison says was “very endearing to her throughout all of this,” joined her to travel Prague, Munich, Salzburg, Switzerland and Italy. “The two of them are bebopping around.”

The kids still head up to the barn with their family, but often enjoy time spent with their own friends there. And sometimes a family member will reach out and ask David and Allison if they can head up for a day because they just need a moment to recharge, a place to reset.

“A mountain breeze and the sound of water,” says David, “those are just healing things.”

“And so it was that in its origin story and it continues to be that,” says Allison. “That’s the family legacy.”

Rayhaven, indeed, helped the Ray family through one of the hardest moments of their lives. And now, when Allison starts to feel the weight of the world on her shoulders, she goes back to the moment the seed was planted.

“I can see it, I can taste it, I can touch it. I remember exactly where I was on the loop at Country Park, and it is like a reset for me. And then I know what I need to do. I head up to the mountains.” OH

For more information on Rayhaven, including booking your own stay, visit rayhavenretreat.com.

After emergency surgery and a long hospital stay, “By the grace of God,” Lee says, “I lived.”

While Lee was in the hospital, Allison joked that she couldn’t go dying on her because she had to see the barn through. And, one day, she had to design Savanna’s wedding. “The beauty of the place is very much a credit to what she did and the heart and soul she put into it,” says Allison.

“I just feel like I was saved for a reason and I think part of it was the barn,” says Lee. “And part of it was to learn more about my role in life. If I can pour myself into doing things for other people, that’s really what counts.”

ALMANAC September

By a sHley walsHe

September rouses you from the gentle spell of summer.

One day, between the blackberry harvest and the mighty swell of crickets, the charm took hold. Languid and blissful, you sprawled beneath the dappled shade, eyes heavy, honeysuckle on your tongue.

Rest now, summer cooed. It’s much too hot to fuss.

And, just like that, you were under. Swaddled in sticky-sweetness. Wanting for nothing. Enchanted by the lazy lull of summer.

Until now.

Something has shifted. It’s a feeling, both subtle and seismic. At once, you’re wide awake.

The air is crisper, cooler, lighter. Colors are more vibrant. Even the birds have changed their tune.

Wake up, a skein of geese clamors overhead. There’s little time to waste!

Their frequency is a code. An ancient language. A precious remembering. Everything will change.

The light. The trees. The pulse of the season.

Look to the maple tree, the honeybee, the frenzied gray squirrel. Life is racing toward some dark unknown. Put your ear to the warm earth and listen. This is the threshold, the quickening, the no-going-back. The final kiss of summer.

And so, you feast with all your senses. You savor the fragrance of ginger lilies, the taste of wild muscadines, the spirit of goldenrod at magic hour. You kiss summer back.

A single leaf descends with a singing wind. Stay open to the beauty of this moment. Stay open to the knowing that everything will change.

Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.

— F. Scott Fitzgerald

Harvest Moon Magic

Your eyes aren’t playing tricks. When the full harvest moon rises on the evening of Tuesday, Sept. 17, it will appear larger and brighter because it is, in fact, as close to Earth as it can be. What makes this supermoon even more spectacular is the partial lunar eclipse that will reach maximum coverage around 10:44 p.m. While only a small portion of the moon’s surface will be obscured by Earth’s shadow, this partial eclipse marks the beginning of an eclipse season. An annular solar eclipse will occur on Oct. 2. Although its “ring of fire” won’t be visible from North America, don’t be surprised if you feel its powerful energetic effects.

Seeing Stars

Look! The asters are blooming. Derived from the Latin astrum, meaning star, September’s birth flower transforms the late summer landscape with jubilant constellations of white, pink, blue or purple blossoms. Often mistaken for daisies, the aster is actually related to the sunflower. (Study its bright yellow center, composed of tiny florets, and see for yourself.)

According to one Greek myth, asters sprouted from the tears of a virgin goddess named Astraea, who wished for more stars in the sky. Instead, the brilliant “stars” began spilling across the quiet earth, as they’ve done every autumn since. Magic for the eyes. Magnets for the late-season butterflies. OH

Thank You for Pawticipating

Sponsored by:

Second Place: Roux

First Place: Ellie Jane Johnson

Third Place: Ella

Please verify times, costs, status and location before attending an event. Although conscientious efforts are made to provide accurate and up-to-date information, the world is subject to change and errors can occur!

To submit an event for consideration, email us at ohenrymagcalendar@gmail.com by 5 p.m. the first of the month one month prior to the event.

Weekly Events

SUNDAYS

BARRE CLASS. 10 a.m. Strengthen, tone and stretch your way into the week. Tickets: $10. Grandover Resort & Spa, 1000 Club Road, Greensboro. Info: grandoverresort.com.

SIT, SPEAK. 4:30–5:15 p.m. Megan Blake, The Pet Lifestyle Coach, provides free group training and real time practice as you learn to connect more deeply with your four-legged, best friend. Free. LeBauer Park, 208 N. Davie St., Greensboro.

KARAOKE & LINE DANCING. 4–7 p.m. Two of your fav activities merge for one evening of fun with DJ Energizer. Free. Center City Park, 200 N. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: greensborodowntownparks.org/calendar.

TUESDAYS

PELVIC HEALTH YOGA. 8:30–9:30 a.m. This Vinyasa-style flow class works toward lengthening and strengthening the pelvic floor and surrounding muscles. Free, registration required and donations accepted. Triad Pelvic Health, 5574 Garden Village Way, Greensboro. Info: triadpelvichealth. com/classes.

TRAILHEAD SWEAT SESH. 6–7 p.m. Throughout the month, sweat and flow to a variety of YMCA-led fitness classes, spaced out along various spots of the Downtown Greenway. Free. Info: downtowngreenway.org/event/ spring-into-motion-free-fitness-classes-5.

WEDNESDAYS

LIVE MUSIC. 6–9 p.m. Evan Olson and Jessica Mashburn of AM rOdeO play covers and original music. Free. Print Works Bistro. 702 Green Valley Road, Greensboro. Info: printworksbistro.com/gallery/music.

FAMILY NIGHT. 5–7 p.m. Enjoy an art-driven evening with family and friends in the studios. Free. ArtQuest at GreenHill Center for NC Art, 200 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: greenhillnc. org/events.

MUSIC IN THE PARK. 6–8 p.m. Sip and

September 2024

September

7

High Point Museum: Fashion Back Then

snack at LeBauer Park while grooving to local and regional artists. Free. Lawn Service, 208 N. Davie St, Greensboro. Info: greensborodowntownparks.org/calendar.

THURSDAYS

JAZZ AT THE O.HENRY. 6–9 p.m. Sip vintage craft cocktails and snack on tapas while the O.Henry Trio performs with a different jazz vocalist each week. Free. O.Henry Hotel Social Lobby, 624 Green Valley Road, Greensboro. Info: ohenryhotel.com/o-henry-jazz.

WALK THIS WAY. 6 p.m. Put on your sneakers for a 2–4 mile social stroll or jog with the Downtown Greenway Run & Walk Club, which is open to all ages and abilities. Free. LoFi Park, 500 N. Eugene St., Greensboro. Info: downtowngreenway.org/events.

EASY RIDERS. 6–8:30 p.m. All levels of cyclists are welcome to ride along on a guided 4-mile cruise around downtown. Free. Lawn Service, 208 N. Davie St, Greensboro. Info: greensborodowntownparks.org/calendar.

KIDS’ KLUB STORYTIME. 10:30–11 a.m. Yarn spinners from the Greensboro Public Library entertain little ones with stories and singalongs. Free. LeBauer Park, 208 N. Davie St,

Greensboro. Info: greensborodowntownparks. org/calendar.

THURSDAYS & SATURDAYS

KARAOKE & COCKTAILS. 8 p.m. until midnight, Thursdays; 9 p.m. until midnight, Saturdays. Courtney Chandler hosts a night of sipping and singing. Free. 19 & Timber Bar at Grandover Resort & Spa, 1000 Club Road, Greensboro. Info: grandoverresort.com.

FRIDAYS

MASTERPIECE FRIDAY. 10 a.m.–noon. Parents and caregivers are welcome to bring their kiddos to spend an enchanting morning exploring the wonders of storytelling and crafts. Registration: Non-members over 1, $8; Household Level Members, free. ArtQuest at GreenHill Center for NC Art, 200 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: greenhillnc.org/events.

FRIDAYS & SATURDAYS

LIVE MUSIC. 7–10 p.m. Enjoy drinks in the 1808 Lobby Bar while soaking up live music provided by local artists. Free. Grandover Resort & Spa, 1000 Club Road, Greensboro. Info: grandoverresort.com.

SATURDAYS

YOGA. 9:30 a.m. Don’t stay in bed when you could namaste in the spa studio. Tickets: $10. Grandover Resort & Spa, 1000 Club Road, Greensboro. Info: grandoverresort.com.

WATER AEROBICS. 10:30 a.m. Make a splash while getting a heart-pumping workout at an indoor pool. Tickets: $10. Grandover Resort & Spa, 1000 Club Road, Greensboro. Info: grandoverresort.com.

September Events

September 1–30

THE ART OF INCLUSION. Indelible presents four artists who create works that embrace melancholy while offering the possibility of transcendence. Free. GreenHill Center for NC Art, 200 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: greenhillnc. org/events.

INTERPRETING AMERICA. A collection of photos from the archives provide commentary on life in America from the late 19th century through the 21st century. Free. Weatherspoon Art Museum, 500 Tate St., Greensboro. Info: weatherspoonart.org/calendar.

September 1–15.

CENTRAL CAROLINA FAIR. Experience thrilling rides, exciting games, and mouthwatering fair food while making memories. Greensboro Coliseum parking lot, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com/events.

September 1–14

SCULPTED GLASS. Delve into a thought-provoking exploration of American history, politics and contemporary culture through an exhibit of glass artist John Moran’s work, titled American Idols. Free. Starworks Exhibition Gallery, 100 Russell Drive, Star. Info: starworksnc.org/ starworks-events.

September 1–8

ARTISTS AT EDGEWOOD. 10 a.m.–5 p.m. Meet the 30 artists-in-residence at Elliott Daingerfield’s restored historic cottage in Blowing Rock. Featured artists change weekly. Free. Edgewood Cottage, Main Street and Ginny Stevens Lane, Blowing Rock. Info: artistsatedgewood.org.

September 1 & 15

BLUEGRASS & BRUNCH. 11 a.m.–1 p.m. Enjoy live bluegrass and folk music while munching tasty treats from vendors. Free. LeBauer Park, 200 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: greensborodowntownparks.org/calendar.

September 1

COLTRANE FEST. 3 p.m. The John Coltrane International Jazz and Blues Festival features a weekend lineup of artists performing in the legendary saxophonist’s hometown. Tickets: $30+. Oak Hollow Festival Park, 1841 Eastchester Drive, High Point. Info: coltranejazzfest.com.

September 1

Oak Hollow Festival Park: Coltrane Fest

DON OMAR. 8 p.m. The “King of Reggaeton” reigns supreme on the Latin music scene. Tickets: $61+. Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com/events.

September 4

GEOCACHING. 5:30–6:30 p.m. Learn the ins and outs of geocaching, a hobby that will get you moving outside. Free. Woven Works Park, East Lindsay Street and North Murrow Boulevard, Greensboro. Info: https://downtowngreenway. org/events.

READING THE WORLD. 7–8 p.m. Discover contemporary authors’ works in translation, such as this month’s selection, a French satirical novel, Standing Heavy by Gauz’. Free. Online. Info: scuppernongbooks.com/event.

September 5

WYNTON MARSALIS. 7:30 p.m. Presented by the Greensboro Symphony, this world renowned musician, composer, bandleader and educator performs a night of jazz’s full spectrum. Tickets: $39+. Steven Tanger Center, 300 N. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: tangercenter.com/events.

THE AIN’T SISTERS. 8 p.m. Think Indigo Girls meets Dream Theater with a little

Birdcloud mixed in as this eclectic musical force takes the stage. Tickets: $15+. Flat Iron, 221 Summit Ave., Greensboro. Info: flatirongso. com/events.

September 6–8

N.C. FOLK FEST. Times vary. Enjoy a threeday celebration of cultural heritage through live music — featuring 45 local, global and roots artists — dance, handmade crafts, food and family fun. Free. Downtown Greensboro. Info: ncfolkfestival.com.

September 6 & 28

PIANO MAN. 7–9 p.m. Mike Evans tickles the ivories for a night of pop music from throughout the decades that complements your spirits. Free. Grapes and Grains Tavern, 2001 Yanceyville St., Greensboro. Info: grapesandgrainstavern.com.

September 6

FIRST FRIDAY. 6–9 p.m. Head downtown for a night of live music and happenings stretching all the way from LeBauer Park and the Greensboro Cultural Center to the South End. Free. Downtown Greensboro. Info: downtowngreensboro.org/first-friday.

BRANDY CLARK. 8 p.m. The Grammy- and CMA-winning artist known for songs such as “Dear Insecurity,” which features Brandi Carlile, performs. Tickets: $7.50+. UNCG Auditorium, 408 Tate St., Greensboro. Info: vpa.uncg.edu/events.

OMAR DILLARD. 8 p.m. Classically trained and culturally inspired, “The Soul Violinist” delivers a smooth R&B string experience. Tickets: $66.98+. High Point Theatre, 220 E. Commerce Ave., High Point. Info: highpointtheatre.com/events.

STORY TIME. 10–11 a.m. The youth librarians team from the Greensboro Public Library engages young children through playful storytelling. Free. Woven Works Park, East Lindsay Street and North Murrow Boulevard, Greensboro. Info: downtowngreenway.org/events.

ATUL PUROHIT. 8 p.m. The Gujarati folk singer from India known for his Garbas performs. Tickets: $35. Special Events Center at the Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum. com/events.

FOLK FEST AFTER PARTY. 11 p.m. If you haven’t had enough live music, the Keith Allen Circus invites you to keep the party going. Tickets: $15. Flat Iron, 221 Summit Ave., Greensboro. Info: flatirongso.com/events.

September 7–30

CRIP*. This group exhibition features contemporary artists who engage with experiences and understandings of disability. Free. Weatherspoon

September at Weymouth Center

september calendar

Art Museum, 500 Tate St., Greensboro. Info: weatherspoonart.org/calendar.

September 7–8

VETERANS SERIES:

The Write to Heal:

Discovering Veterans’ Voices.

Sundays: September 8, 15, 22, 1:00 - 3:00 p.m.

Led by award-winning authors Joseph Bathanti and June Guralnick, the series will have a special focus on the power of writing for members of the United States Armed Forces (active duty or reserve), National Guard, and military veterans and their families.

JAMES BOYD BOOK CLUB

Tuesday, September 17, 2:00 p.m.

The September Book is Shadows of Saigon by Mark R. Anderson. The James Boyd Book Club reads and discusses the work of North Carolina authors – past and present.

COME SUNDAY JAZZ

Sunday, September 29, 2:00 - 4:00 p.m.

Award winning Rebecca Kleinmann and her multinational quartet present their original sound inspired by Brazilian Jazz. Bring your own blanket, chairs, and a picnic, and enjoy our cash bar with mimosas, beer, wine, and non-alcoholic beverages available.

Also! Beginning in October, join us for an immersive theater experience, Long Words, that will aim to tell the story of the Boyds and the history of Weymouth!

Scan the QR code for subscription tickets and additional information!

555 East Connecticut Avenue, Southern Pines, NC

MONSTER TRUCKS. Times vary. The Hot Wheels Monster Trucks Live Glow Party is rollin’ into town, with stunts and tricks to delight fans of all ages. Tickets: $25+. Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com/events.

September 7, 14 & 28

BLACKSMITH DEMONSTRATION. 10 a.m.–4:30 p.m. Watch a costumed blacksmith in action as he crafts various iron pieces. Free. Historical Park at High Point Museum, 1859 E. Lexington Ave., High Point. Info: highpointmuseum.org.

September 7

ONE NIGHT OF QUEEN. 8 p.m. Tribute band Gary Mullen & The Works rocks the house with the classic hits you know, such as “Bohemian Rhapsody” and “We Are the Champions.” Tickets: $25+. Steven Tanger Center, 300 N. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: tangercenter.com/events.

THE FASHION BACK THEN. 11 a.m.–4 p.m. Drop in to discover how early American settlers turned natural fibers into clothes and household decor while trying your hand at it and donning fashions of the times. Free. Historical Park at High Point Museum, 1859 E. Lexington Ave., High Point. Info: highpointmuseum.org.

September 10 & 17

YOUNG ARTISTS KOLLECTIVE. 4–5:15 p.m. The YAK Club provides budding artists the opportunity to experiment with materials and processes. Registration: Non-members, $45; Members, $40.50. Sept. 10, Grades K–2; Sept. 17, Grades 3–5. ArtQuest at GreenHill Center for NC Art, 200 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: greenhillnc.org/events.

September 12

HOT GLASS, COLD BEER. 5:30 p.m. Enjoy glass blowing demonstrations while grooving to the tunes of Colin Cutler. Tickets: $5. Starworks Exhibition Gallery, 100 Russell Drive, Star. Info: starworksnc.org/starworks-events.

September 13–22

RENT. Times vary. Experience the “Seasons of Love” as this Jonathan Larson musical brings New York City apartment living to the Greensboro stage. Community Theatre of Greensboro, 520 S. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: ctgso.org.

September 13

STEPHEN E. SMITH. 6 p.m. The author of nine books of poetry and prose and winner of

several literary awards discusses his latest work, a memoir entitled The Year We Danced. Free. Scuppernong Books, 304 S. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: scuppernongbooks.com/event.

LIFE IN THE FAST LANE. 7:30 p.m. Eagles tribute band Out of Eden recreates the hits you love, such as “Take It to the Limit” and “Hotel California.” Tickets: $45+, Carolina Theatre, 310 S. Greene St., Greensboro. Info: carolinatheatre. com/events.

TRAVIS TRITT. 8 p.m. The country legend whose career spans three decades hits the stage for a night of familiar twang. Tickets: $39.75+. Steven Tanger Center, 300 N. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: tangercenter.com/events.

BOOMBOX FEST RELOADED. 7:30 p.m. Enjoy a night of high vibes with Moneybagg Yo and friends. Tickets: $65+. Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com/events.

UMESH BAROT. 8:30 p.m. Enjoy a night of Garbas from the Gujarati Indian folk singer. Tickets: $30. Special Events Center at the Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum. com/events.

September 14–30

MAKING CONNECTIONS. This installation of works from the Weatherspoon’s own collection showcases the gallery as an academic museum with deep connections to its campus, Greensboro and broader communities. Free. Weatherspoon Art Museum, 500 Tate St., Greensboro. Info: weatherspoonart.org/calendar.

September 14

BOOK RELEASE & ART SHOW. 1–3 p.m. Black Mountain poet Clint Bowman and Greensboro artist Perry Boswell collaborate for an afternoon of poetry and conversation to celebrate Bowman’s debut book, If Lost. Free. Bitters Social House, 307 State St., Greensboro. Info: bitterssocial.com/specials-events.

BEE GEES TRIBUTE. 8:30 p.m. The Australian Bee Gees join forces with the Greensboro Symphony for a night of disco hits that’ll have you “Stayin’ Alive.” Tickets: $50+. Steven Tanger Center, 300 N. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: tangercenter.com/events.

LIMITED ENGAGEMENT BAND. 7–10 p.m. This incredible cover band takes you on a musical journey through the ages. Cover charge: $5. Grapes and Grains Tavern, 2001 Yanceyville St., Greensboro. Info: grapesandgrainstavern.com.

BOULEVARDS. 8:30 p.m. Rock out with a night of psychedelic punk-funk. Tickets: $20. Flat Iron, 221 Summit Ave., Greensboro. Info: flatirongso.com/events.

WELDING & METAL FABRICATION. 9 a.m.–3 p.m. In this intermediate workshop — a follow-up to the Starworks Welding Basics Course — students will advance their skills to the next level. Registration: $250. Starworks Cafe & Taproom, 100 Russell Drive, Star. Info: starworksnc.org/starworks-events.

September 15

SYNTH TIME. 5–7 p.m. Grab a blanket, bring a friend and immerse yourself in a sonic experience by Modular on the Spot Greensboro, featuring synthesizer music. Free. LeBauer Park, 200 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: greensborodowntownparks.org/calendar.

THE DRIFTERS & CORNELL GUNTER’S COASTERS. 7 p.m. Enjoy a night of doo-wop and rock as these two Rock & Roll Hall of Fame groups take the stage. Tickets: $30+, Carolina Theatre, 310 S. Greene St., Greensboro. Info: carolinatheatre.com/events.

COLORING THERAPY. 1–3 p.m. Local artist Darlene McClinton teaches technique and skill while you connect with nature, reset your mind and take your coloring to the next level. Free, registration required. Morehead Park, 475 Spring Garden St., Greensboro. Info: downtowngreenway.org/events.

September 16 & 23

SCULPT & SWEAT. Noon–12:45 p.m. Neighborhood Barre leads a rejuvenating lunchtime class, where those of all fitness levels can seek to sculpt and refine their bodies. Free. LeBauer Park, 200 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: greensborodowntownparks.org/calendar.

September 17–22

MAMMA MIA! Times vary. A trip down the aisle set on a Greek isle, accompanied by the songs of Abba? Say no more. Tickets: $33+. Steven Tanger Center, 300 N. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: tangercenter.com/events.

September 17

MAXWELL. 7 p.m. Known for his smooth and soulful hits, the singer takes the stage with special guests Jazmine Sullivan and October London. Tickets: $43+. Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com/events.

September 18–22

N.C. COMEDY FESTIVAL. Times vary. Catch comedians from around the state in this festival of laughs that takes place at two neighboring venues. Tickets: $7.50+. The Idiot Box, 503 N. Greene St., Greensboro; Next Door Beer Bar & Bottle Shop, 505 N. Greene St., Greensboro. Info: idiotboxers.com.

A Retrospective of Maud Gatewood

June 28, 2024 – January 5, 2025

Free Admission

Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday: 11am–5pm Thursday: 11am–7pm Sunday (May–October): 11am–4pm

BlowingRockMuseum.org

159 Ginny Stevens Lane

Blowing Rock, NC 28605

Maud Gatewood, Untitled (Molly Skating), c. 1982, acrylic on canvas. Collection of Lee Fazzi & Christine Burns-Fazzi

September 18

ARTTASTE SALON. 6–8 p.m. Savor artworkinspired dishes cooked up by Chef Maria Fangman, participate in a salon-style conversation led by art historian Katherine Shields and enjoy the tunes of pianist Joyce Kemmerer. Tickets: $75. GreenHill Center for NC Art, 200 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: greenhillnc.org/events.

YAPPY HOUR. 5:30–7:30 p.m. Bring your four-legged-and-leashed bestie to an evening of splashing, treats, prize drawings and mingling with community organizations and canine-centric companies. Free. LoFi Park, 500 N. Eugene St., Greensboro. Info: downtowngreenway.org/ events.

FURNISHING PIONEER. 10 a.m. Larry W. Cates, reference librarian at the Heritage Research Center, and Marian Inabinett, curator of collections at the High Point Museum, dive into the life and work of Peter Thurston, often credited as “High Point’s first furniture maker.” Free. High Point Museum, 1859 E. Lexington Ave., High Point. Info: highpointmuseum.org.

LARRY LOFTIS. 11:30 a.m. The New York Times-bestselling author of The Watchmaker’s

Daughter and The Princess Spy will give a talk at the High Point Literary League meeting. Members only, but membership enrollment is open. High Point Country Club, 800 Country Club Drive, High Point. Info: hpliteraryleague.org.

September 19

OPEN MIC. 6–7:30 p.m. Writers of all genres are invited to read from their original works for five minutes at “a very cool monthly open mic” held on the third Thursday of each month. Free. Scuppernong Books, 304 S. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: scuppernongbooks.com/ event.

CAMPAIGN MADNESS. 5:30–8 p.m. Explore political campaigning throughout history while playing games at this after-hours event. Greensboro History Museum, 130 Summit Ave., Greensboro. Info: greensborohistory.org/events.

OPEN MIC. 7–9 p.m. Take the stage to sing a song, tell a joke or read a poem, or enjoy others reveling in a few minutes of fame. Starworks Cafe & Taproom, 100 Russell Drive, Star. Info: starworksnc.org/starworks-events.

September 20–22

RODEO. Times vary. The Carolinas’ first Professional Bull Riders Team, Carolina Cowboys, returns for a rip-roarin’ ride during Cowboy Days. Tickets: $20+. Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com/events.

September 20

ROYAL BINGO. 7 p.m. Brenda the Drag Queen hosts an evening of Green Queen Bingo for ages 15 and up. Tickets: $12+. Piedmont Hall, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com/events.

KILLER BEAZ. 7:30 p.m. The comedian known for his hit Discovery Channel Show, Moonshiners, will have you laughing out loud. High Point Theatre, 220 E. Commerce Ave., High Point. Info: highpointtheatre.com/events.

SPEED FRIENDING. 5:30–7:30 p.m. Looking to make new friends and spark great conversation? Register for your age group’s time slot and come away with new buds. Free, registration required. LoFi Park, 500 N. Eugene St., Greensboro. Info: downtowngreenway.org/events.

W. CORNWALLIS

LADIES CLOTHING, GIFTS, BABY, JEWELRY, GIFTS FOR THE HOME, TABLEWARE, DELICIOUS FOOD

September 21

NATIONAL DANCE DAY. 1–9 p.m.

Professional dancers representing a variety of cultural styles and genres invite the community to join them; food trucks and vendors on-site. Free. LeBauer Park, 208 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: greensborodowntownparks. org/calendar.

KIDS’ KLUB DANCE. 11 a.m.–noon. Kids ages 3–8 are welcome to move and groove in a fun, explorative way with members of the Greensboro Ballet. Free. LeBauer Park, 208 N. Davie St., Greensboro. Info: greensborodowntownparks.org/calendar.

VILLAGE FAIR. 11 a.m.–4 p.m. Play early American games, practice quill pen writing, see the blacksmith work at the forge and shop a museum pop-up shop. Free. Mendenhall Homeplace, 603 W. Main St., Jamestown. Info: highpointmuseum.org.

September 22

GREENSBORO PRIDE. 11 a.m.–6 p.m.

Don your rainbow attire and celebrate the LGBTQIA2+ community with a street fest including a parade, vendors and eats. Free. South Elm Street, Greensboro. Info: greensboropride.org.

LORNA SHORE. 6:30 p.m. The American deathcore band out of New Jersey returns to the stage with its new album, Pain Remains. Tickets: $37.45. Special Events Center at the Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com/events.

TANNAHILL WEAVERS. 7:30 p.m. Enjoy an evening of Scottish traditional music from one of the world’s premiere Celtic bands. High Point Theatre, 220 E. Commerce Ave., High Point. Info: highpointtheatre.com/events.

September 24

KEB’ MO’ & SHAWN COLVIN. 7:30 p.m.

Enjoy a night of blues and folk as these two artists come together for an unforgettable concert. Tickets: $45.50+. Steven Tanger Center, 300 N. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: tangercenter.com/ events.

September 25

JAZZ NIGHT. 6:30–8:30 p.m. Sip and sway to the soothing sounds of Soul Noises. Free. Starworks Cafe & Taproom, 100 Russell Drive, Star. Info: starworksnc.org/starworks-events.

September 26

OLD-TIME JAM. 7–9 p.m. Bring your own

instrument and join in the harmony and fun of a pick-up jam sesh. Free. Starworks Cafe & Taproom, 100 Russell Drive, Star. Info: starworksnc.org/starworks-events.

September 27–29

APPLEFEST. Enjoy three days of live music, rides, silent auctions, raffles and entertainment benefitting Little Pink Houses of Hope, an organization that supports breast cancer patients and their families. Tickets: $10+; cancer survivors and children 12 and under, free. 7618 Laurens Lane, Gibsonville. Info: facebook.com/events/367937659300036.

September 27

SCYTHIAN. 7:30 p.m. Named after Ukrainian nomads, this band plays roots music from Appalachia as well as Eastern Europe and Celtic lands. High Point Theatre, 220 E. Commerce Ave., High Point. Info: highpointtheatre.com/events.

KARLA DAVIS JOHNSON. 7–9 p.m. As seen on The Voice, this local singer-songwriter delivers a night of soulful sounds while you sip. Free. Grapes and Grains Tavern, 2001 Yanceyville St., Greensboro. Info: grapesandgrainstavern.com.

THE MOMMYHEADS. 8 p.m. The indie-pop group is joined by pop-rock Lemon Sparks.

Tickets: $12+. Flat Iron, 221 Summit Ave., Greensboro. Info: flatirongso.com/events.

STREET NIGHT MARKET. 6–10 p.m. Buy local, buy used and support Black-owned busi nesses at the new Gate City Street Night Market on the last Saturday of each month. Free. Along the Downtown Greenway at Elm and Bragg Streets, Greensboro. Info: greensboro-nc.gov/ government/city-news/city-calendar.

DANCING WITH THE SISTERS. 7 p.m. Leaders of the Sister Circle International com munity perform at a night of entertainment and philanthropy. Tickets: $41.36+High Point Theatre, 220 E. Commerce Ave., High Point. Info: highpointtheatre.com/events.

GABRIELA MARTINEZ. 7:30 p.m. The pianist joins the Greensboro Symphony and Wiley Sykes on castanets for a night of “Celebrating Hispanic Heritage.” Tickets: $35+. Steven Tanger Center, 300 N. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: tangercenter.com/events.

now!

people and pets, too. Schedule

traps

September 28

Gabriela Martinez

GREENWAY RUN & BLOCK PARTY. 4–7 p.m. Run, walk or jog in the 15th Annual Downtown Greenway Run & Block Party, and then stay for the vendors, food trucks and entertainment. LoFi Park, 500 N. Eugene St., Greensboro. Register: runsignup.com/Race/NC/Greensboro/ Run4theDowntownGreenway.

September 29

AVATAR CONCERT. 1:30 & 6:30 p.m. As Avatar: The Last Airbender plays on a big screen, a live orchestra plays the iconic soundtrack. Tickets: $39+. Steven Tanger Center, 300 N. Elm St., Greensboro. Info: tangercenter.com/events. OH

We secure your home from roof to foundation. We also remove: Birds, opossums, raccoons, rodents, skunks, squirrels & snakes

3712-E Lawndale Dr., Greensboro NC 27455 www.neighborhoodbarre.com/location/nb-greensboro/ greensboro@neighborhoodbarre.com

Living Information For Today (L.I.F.T.)

L.I.F.T. is a social support program that helps surviving spouses adjust to the loss of their partner. It gives participants the opportunity to socialize with others who share similar feelings and experiences. This program is both entertaining and educational, with speakers on a wide variety of topics.

For more information on the L.I.F.T. program, please contact Hanes Lineberry Funeral Services at 336-272-5150.

GreenScene

Greensboro Newcomers Club Spring Tea

Greensboro Country Club

May 23, 2024

Kate Huddelson & Nancy Runner

Kristina Smith & Kim Dietz

Sue Franco & Claudette Martin

Cassandra Goodwin & (Belle Hamer -pink hat & Debbie Elkins-blue ball cap) & Linda Williams

Cherry Saint

Leslie Migliorato

Roberta Zinan & Joy Greco

Ramilya Siegel & Barb Cronin & Donna Howard

Donna Lamb & Angela Parham & Isabella Kelter & Loraine Entz

Peggy Bardelli & Barbara Partlow

Jean Jacobs & Pat Pfaf

GreenScene

2024 Campus Greensboro Day

Piedmont Hall

July 25, 2024

Photographs by VanderVeen Photographers

Southern Idioms Live On

You can’t understand us, we know it, but we just can’t help it

By Cynthia a dams

Personally, I’m tickled that YouTubers — such as former art teacher Landon Bryant — can make a living doing pure T nothing. (There’s a Southernism for you, Landon.) That is, nothing but talking, then explaining whatever was said.

This native son breaks down such terms as “mash” (as in the brake, button, alarm or gas pedal) versus “press.” He explains “liked to” (as in “liked to die” or “liked to have gone to meet my Maker”) to those beyond his hometown, Laurel, Mississippi — population 17,000.

Southerners have our own linguistic mashup. For example, I married a ferner, Southern for anybody who isn’t a native. Technically, a ferner could be from, say, Yonkers.

A primer: Yes’m is a contraction for “Yes Ma’am”

Bob wahr is just “barbed wire.”

Tin cints is just a dime. Except when “putting your tin cints worth in,” meaning offering your opinion. (Tin cints is about what most opinions are worth.)

There are directional Southernisms, too. “Over yonder” and “right cheer,” for example. In this context, cheer means here.

In another context, cheer means a seat.

“Why dontcha take a cheer?” doesn’t mean you are being offered a chair as a party favor. It means sit a spell.

Slang also perplexes. Nabs. Not the verb, as in “help me nab the bank robber.” Originally, short for a Nabisco snack, anybody who knows Sheetz from Shinola knows we’re talking about Toast Chee, a homegrown Lance snack.

Perversely, Southernisms aren’t always shorthand but sometimes longer. A form of linguistic face saving. Example: “I might coulda done things your way, but it warn’t up to me.” (A roundabout admission of messing up while passing the buck.)

Oftentimes, just more colorful. My grandmother was driven to distraction — meaning infuriated — by a neighbor who was “careless with the truth.” She declared he’d rather “climb a roof to tell a lie than stand on the ground and tell the truth.” Such deceit

nearly caused a “conniption fit.” A conniption fit exceeds being driven to distraction.

Euphemisms exacerbate and blunt truths: A chronic screw up is “a day late and a dollar short,” or “a brick short of a load.”

Southerners especially evade mortality, finding death unnatural. “Elmer died” seems callow. Softening the blow: “Elmer went to his reward.” “Was called home.” “Met his Maker.” Or, “Elmer passed.” Just try to find a Southern obituary containing the word “died.” If you do, show me.

“Who’s laid out at the funeral parlor?” translates thusly: “Whose death requires paying our respects?” (An open casket not only invites but demands it. Custom dictates praise: to wit, “I can’t believe he/she looks so natural.”)

Thanks to “extreme embalming,” socialite Mickey Easterling presided unnaturally over her own New Orleans funeral, cocktail and ciggie in hand. Mourners “held up” well.

In the South, our favorite sons and daughters linger longer, thanks to TV. Singer Jimmy Dean, DOD 2010, still pitches sausage that is just as smoky as his voice.

Memphian Leslie Jordan’s YouTube soliloquies considered all things Southern from sweet tea to mullets. Jordan died in 2022, yet his videos? Never.

Dearly departed Julia Reed (2020) gaily mined Southern speak and culture. My friend, John, and I delight over Reed’s bon mots.

Over a stack of her books — But Mama Always Put Vodka in her Sangria on top — we recently raised a glass. We took her passing hard.

That death? Well, it liked to have killed us. OH