Trust the man who searches for truth, but not the one who's found it
I received a phone call from my 3 year old neighbor, Noah. It showed as his mama's cell phone, so I suspect there was a bit of cahoots going on. First thing he asks, and yes, this is a completely true story, was, "Hey Ed. Are you at work?" "No, Noah. I'm home watching a movie." [Kill Bill Pt.1] "Ed...come play water with me." So there I was, 11 AM on a beautiful day, running back and forth in the sprinklers like I was 47 years younger. That's right...make me grow up!
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I may blog from Thailand, especially if I can get some protester pictures, but mostly I intend to go deep underground and push the daily trials and tribulations out of the back of my mind. And I intend to get a daily massage. Word.
I am still on 3 types of medicine. But since 2 of them are fun and make the world all warm and fuzzy, I don't consider it work. Anyway, the only "mandatory" prescription I have is for cholesterol and it seems to be working. Egad! I sound so aged. Stop me if I start musing on hip replacements.
Y'all are going to see some great pictures below. I ran across this guy's work when googling "Whiteville, NC" and thought to myself, what better way to show my appreciation for his work than to post it on my blog without permission or compensation. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I'm thinking that theft comes in second. 'Sall I'm saying.
Anybody who also reads Appalachianist's blog has run across Sage's musings...rambling stories...keen insight...whatever. Anyway, ol Sage used to stomp around my neck of SENCland (South East North Carolina) as the Wilmington paper referred to it. He was familiar with Riegelwood, which is where I grew up. He even mentioned Lake Waccamaw. Growing up I remember hearing about a type of fish (shad, crappie, or perch) that was easy to catch. You just went out on the lake and started smacking the water with your paddle and they would come to investigate. They would school up right on top of the water and all you had to do was scoop them out with a landing net. I searched google and Bing, but could find no corroboration, so you'll just have to take my word for it.
One more thing I remember about living in SENCland. The county seat was held in high esteem. I have not lived anywhere since that I have even heard the term "County Seat", much less where everybody knew where it was. But in Columbus County North Carolina, everyboody knew that Whiteville was ours. That culrural awareness of it's place in the scheme of things did not, however, save it from being small and boring.
Was going to rhyme for you, but the Rhyme-o-tron wouldn't fire up this morning. However, on the new Trucker's album "The Big To Do" there is a song told from the perspective of a dancer in a strip club. Might take you a couple of readings to see it, but this is one of the most beautiful things I have read in some time. I hope it will suffice:
The pretty girls from the smallest towns
get remembered like storms and droughts
that old men talk about for years to come
I guess that's why they give us names
So a few old men can say they saw us rain when we were young
Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read, out
Ramblin' Ed