Mooresville, NC home re-discovered

The boys, all three of them, had a day off from school for Veterans Day yesterday. I decided to take us all to Charlotte for the day. There were several possibilities but it became apparent that the NASCAR Hall of Fame was the crowd favorite, even if it wasn't my first choice. The boys had a great time there. When we finally left there we still had some time available before we needed to start back home. We decided to seek out the fire and rescue museum, which was purportedly only a few blocks away. It took us only once around the block to realize that the "for sale" sign on that block was for the old C.F.D. Station 4 facility, which had once contained the museum; no longer. We were kind of bummed.

I decided to head north on I-77 (we had come to Charlotte via US-321, Gastonia and I-85) and see if I could find the house we lived in for a few years when I was 10-13 or so. Despite all the development around Mooresville, NC, I found the right street right away. According to my mom, it didn't even have a name back when we lived there, it must have been a rural route. Now it's Deerwood Lane. The houses that had been there when we were there looked remarkably familiar; there were several newer homes too. I drove to the end of the street and found our house. My folks had had it built new. Yes, it did look smaller than I remembered it.

There was a man mowing the lawn on a riding mower as we pulled up. I stopped the car and got out and waved him down. I gave him a very brief introduction and mentioned that I had lived in the house nearly 40 years ago. He got a puzzled look and stared off for a second and said that his family had been living there for nearly 40 years. It didn't take long to confirm he and his wife were the ones who had bought the place from my parents when we moved to Durham. Incredible. We then started in on some serious catching-up. He has three sons, one about my age. I mentioned that my dad had died a couple of years ago. They had lived in Morganton, NC before coming to Mooresville (about 45 minutes from our home in Black Mountain).

Small world. I had forgotten the camera (and phone) in our mad dash out the door in the morning, else I would have gotten a picture. I intend to write to him and follow-up and see if I can coax him into taking a picture for us. Most of the pictures I have of that house are on slides that I have not ever tried to convert to digital images. I may have to get busy on that sooner rather than later.



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Tractor pull

While Eli had a band event last weekend, Brigg and Calvin and I (and Faye too) went to a farm/tractor show at the ag center near the Asheville Airport. It wasn't quite as captivating as I thought it might be, but we had a fun time.

John Deere rules

Mighty big tires

Big red tractor!

In the band

Here are a few pictures of Eli in band this fall...

The Warhorse Classic band competition on 10/22

Getting ready at the Avery High School competition.

Opening ceremonies at a OHS home game.

Apples

First there are buds and flowers, sometimes with snow...

Then there are little green apples...


Then there are red apples...

Then there are picked apples in the bucket...

Then there is pie, preferably a la mode...

And it was good. We also made applesauce last week, but certain children didn't like the texture. I'm contemplating a food mill.

Poetry, part 2

This evening Eli was working on the poetry project again. His assignment included writing an "I don't understand" poem. He wrote this without any help from anyone:

I do not understand
Why people don’t take the time
To look at the world around them.
To see what wrong things are happening.
To see the people who are hurting.
Why nobody helps anybody else.
Why there’s no more trust among friends.
All the bad decisions we’re making.
The wars over seas and on the home front.
I do not understand
How we can survive, let alone live
In the turmoil and the chaos
Spreading throughout our society.
But what I do not understand the most,
Is why nobody ever seems to care.
Why nothing ever gets done
To try and change things,
And how even if you told them to,
They still wouldn’t listen.
So what can we understand?

Talk among yourselves...

Poetry

Eli has been trying to finish up a big unit on poetry at school. He's had to write in several styles/formats. One was a "poem to a person." He had a little help from me in tidying this up, but he chose to write to Briggs about the night Briggs was born:

This is a poem to my brother, Briggs.
I remember the night you were born.
Early in the evening my mom said, “It’s time!”
She called the midwife who came over pretty quickly.
Then we called my friend, Mrs. Prather, whose job was to keep me company.
Soon afterward my mom, my dad and the midwife
Went to the bedroom where you were born.
I talked with Mrs. Prather about what was going on and slept some.
Later, after everything had calmed down, early in the morning,
they let me into the room to see you.
You were really tiny, wrapped in a blanket, with a cap on your head;
Your eyes were closed.
I crawled onto the bed with mom and you.
She was tired but happy.
You were quiet. (That changed.)
Mom and dad made me sit on the bed in order to let me hold you.
I felt overwhelmed. I felt proud and excited and happy.
I felt like a big brother.
It was a big night for both of us.

Later in the evening I let Briggs read the poem. He was pretty proud. I think we all were.

Nutella: the gateway chocolate

I bought a new tub of Nutella on Tuesday. I had a hankering for a toasted sesame bagel with Nutella. Our local grocery had both, though they only had a large-size tub of Nutella. They had the smaller size on sale a couple of weeks ago and still have not been able to restock.

Shannon came into the church kitchen while I was spreading the Nutella onto my bagel, and stirring my coffee. As she eyed my plate and analyzed that I was doing, it was obvious she was hungry too, and so I offered her a bagel and the option of some of the Nutella. She had heard about it but had never tried it. I later saw her walking around the office with a goofy grin on her face; and she talked about it all morning. She’s hooked.

Fast forward to the evening. I had brought the leftovers home and stowed the bagels, but inadvertently left the Nutella on the counter. Calvin and Libby got home; Libby went back out to a meeting. I was home with all three boys. The most one can hope for in this situation is quiet, which was finally achieved with Eli in the basement and Briggs drawing at the dining room table and Calvin playing with toy cars in the living room (not quite our three boys, three floors separation perfection, but good enough for Tuesday afternoon). But even then one has to be on guard that something nefarious is not afoot in the midst of the quiet. At one point I heard Calvin make his way to the laundry room, presumably to the toilet (sheepish departure from the living room, laundry room door closed). I didn’t think too much of it. In a few minutes I asked Briggs if Calvin was still in the toilet; he reported that he was and that the door was locked. Still it was fairly typical scenario. Calvin finally came out and walked through the living room back toward his cars. I noticed some sort of schmutz around his mouth. Thus:

Me: Calvin, did you eat something?
Calvin: No, Daddy.
Me: Did you eat a PopTart. (There had been some chocolate ones lying about.)
Calvin: Nope.
Me: Did you go poop?
Calvin: No.
Me: Did you go pee?
Calvin: No.
Me: What’s on your mouth? (By this point I was walking toward the laundry. I had Calvin by the hand.)
Calvin: blank stare
Me: Did you eat some chocolate? (Not that I had put anything together yet and I didn’t really think there was chocolate lying around.)
Calvin: No.
Me: Did you make a mess in my kitchen? (Even if he hadn’t eaten anything, he still could have made a mess with something and gotten it on himself.)
Calvin: Nope.
Me: Did you make a mess in the laundry room?
Calvin: No.

By this point Calvin was pretty sure he was off the hook because he had not done any of the big things that would get him in trouble and so he started walking away. But at the same moment I had arrived at the laundry room and seen the tub of Nutella, lid off, with a baby spoon sticking out of it. More than 1/3 gone. Libby and Calvin a couple of months ago had worked out that this was “chocolate peanut butter.” And I knew he liked it, even more than regular peanut butter. (I know, maybe he's not really my child, right?) So there wasn’t any way I could really punish him; he wasn’t really in trouble. But the whole scarfing-it-down-with-the-door-to-the-laundry-room-closed-with-a-sheepish-grin-on-his-face image has me just a little nervous. Note to self: Nutella needs to stay in the cupboard, even though Calvin knows where it is and knows how to move the trash can off the kitchen stool, and then move the kitchen stool into position beneath the correct cabinet and then climb up on the stool and then onto the counter to get it.

Pssst, hey kid…wanna try this?

Coast Guard

My dad was in the Coast Guard for a while. That's about all most of us ever knew. He didn't talk about it much.

About six months ago Eli started asking questions. Had my dad not died a couple of years ago we could easily get the answers. Alas, it's now becoming detective work. My first step on Eli's behalf was to contact the National Personnel Records Center to get my dad's discharge paperwork from the USCG. We now know he served fro three years. He studied electronics at the Groton, CT training station. He was part of the Coast Guard's Fifth Office in Norfolk, VA. He had completed a half year at Guilford before enrolling (afterward he went to NCSU to finish his degree). His total stint was 3 years and three days, 1952-1955 (about 1/2 that time was in school and the other half was at sea). Following his service he was transferred to Reserve duty for 8 years.

The most tantalizing bit of information on the form is the fact that he served on the USCGC Conifer (WAGL-301). It was a 180-foot cutter. I have a feeling this may be the most interesting fact for Eli. I've had a few minutes to do a little exploring about the boat, and found some information on-line. I'll do another post after I've shared it with Eli.

One of a kind

We took this picture of Briggs when he was just a few months old. We were at the city park near the Carillon in Richmond. Eli was roaming around exploring and we placed Briggs in this swing seat. "Kilroy was here," ran through our minds.

Then there's this version, fast-forward seven years or so. We're on a steam train at the Tennessee Valley Railroad Museum. The image struck me as soon as I saw Briggs do it. Luckily the camera was on and I was ready. "Kilroy was here, too."

Ordination

I just read that Scott Anderson will be re-ordained in the PC(USA):

The high court for the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) early this month cleared the way for a re-ordination ceremony for Scott Anderson, who is executive director of the Wisconsin Council of Churches (and held a similar post in California). Anderson set aside his ordination in 1990 when a congregation revealed that he was a partnered gay man.

I'm all for the turn of events in the PC(USA) that have led to this action. But I wonder about "re-ordination."

I was ordained in 1986 a deacon in the United Methodist Church. I was also "credentialed" by my annual conference and appointed or assigned to continue divinity school. After I finished up divinity school I was appointed to serve first at Trinity, Durham and then Jefferson, Goldsboro. A year or so later it became apparent that I was not going to be a good fit for continuing as a United Methodist pastor in eastern NC. So I surrendered my credentials. But I did not end my ordination, at least to my thinking. I'm just orthodox enough or Catholic enough to think that ordination is a sacramental thing, something that one does not un-do. I doubt that's majority opinion among other Methodists, and it does not seem to be the case with Presbyterians. (And now, as I am editing myself, I recall that deacons and elders in the PC(USA) are not re-ordained if they rotate off a stint in those offices and then are selected again later in time; they are re-installed.)

I have no illusions about trying to pastor a congregation with the ordination that I hold. I fully recognize that a second component to filling the role of pastor at least in the United Methodist Church is to be credentialed.

But the whole Scott Anderson thing struck me not because a gay guy is being ordained. But rather than anyone is being "re-ordained." For me it's kind of like being re-baptised; you don't do that. Did he really get himself un-ordained a few years back; or is it really necessary that he be (or is it possible to be) re-ordained? I believe the answer is "no" to both questions.

I believe that something indelible and irrevocable and unrepeatable happened when I was ordained. As far as serving as a pastor in a UM church, there's another component required. But the fact of my ordination remains. I am living out my vocation not as a pastor but as a pastoral musician, so I feel okay about being faithful to my calling.

There's probably more to what Scott Anderson will go through in the next few weeks; for some reason the word "Byzantine" come to mind when I think of Presbyterian or Reformed polity. There are no doubt intricacies of which I am not aware. But just that language in the article struck me. And I needed to climb up on a soapbox.

I'll get down now.

Russia-love

I just finished reading Ian Frazier's "Travels in Siberia." I tried "On the Rez" a few weeks ago and didn't get beyond page 4. (I had been in search of the former at the librarylast month, and didn't find it, so settled for the latter.) This book was a totally difference experience for me. I found myself, near the end, trying to gauge my progress so that I would end up with plenty to read right before bed-time, but not so much that I couldn't finish a chapter. Last night I mis-judged and wound up with a little left over this morning. But as it turns out there were notes and a bibliography and an index as well as thank-yous in the final pages. So I was able to finish the book this morning at breakfast and still get to my office not-too-late! It was kind of like planning the eating of a meal so that you have just the right amount of each, meat, veg, starch, so that you finish up everything at the same time, or like having your burger and fries and ketchup all finish up together. Once in a while my reading of a really good book elicits this same desire, for it to wind up when I'm ready for it, and not before. (Please be gentle in judging my eating and reading quirks.)

I realized as soon as I read the words that I share the "Russia-love" malady with Frazier. I'm not really sure when it set in. It could have been when I started collecting stamps, 40 years ago. It was definitely infesting my soul (though still un-named) by the time Libby and I hosted a charming pair of Russian girls (ages 9-10) as part of a mission-exchange when we lived in Richmond. The girls brought with them darling little trinkets that we (but mostly I) still have. The idealism I once imposed on that nation has now been tempered, but my desire to visit is no less strong.

I was struck by Frazier's experience of traveling across Siberia by van in comparison with our recent visit to Chattanooga. His experience of litter, restrooms, hotels and urban areas in generally was in marked contrast to what we, and pretty much any person traveling in the US can experience. I think he called the general tenor of the nation "incomplete grandiosity" near the end of the book; contrast that with what might be termed America's "adolescent swagger."

Don't get me wrong, I have no interest in traveling through Siberia. But a trip to western Russia is definitely on my bucket list. In the interim this book was a wonderful surrogate. I could have done without that mercifully short "telescoped" writing about 3/4 of the way through. But I haven't enjoyed a narrative travelogue so much since I devoured Robert Kaplan's oeuvre a few years ago. I'll have to try again with "On the Rez" and Frazier's other books here soon.

TN Vacation: Aquarium

Since the schedule for Saturday got shot out of the water, we let a visit to the aquarium holdover until Sunday. It was well worth it, and well worth the near $100 for all of us to get in. There are actually two buildings, River Journey and Ocean Journey. I thought the River building was the more dramatic of the two: the seemingly endless descent through layers of river water was pretty cool. The attempt at "surround" in the Ocean building was nice, but not as all-enveloping as the Seattle Aquarium.

Saturday night we went back downtown to walk along the riverfront, hoping it would be calming and somewhat interesting. It was a lot more spacious than Richmond's riverfront and it's like they planned for people to be able to visit and park, with lots and meters and such. We arrived near the aquarium buildings and found a water cascade park area. One could begin at street level and descend a water ladder (a couple of hundred feet long, descending maybe 30 feet toward the river) of sorts and finally arrive at a very shallow, but graciously proportioned wading pool. The whole thing is an artistic installation celebrating Cherokee culture and mythology. People of all ages were there and our boys enjoyed it tremendously. And except for the $1 to park, it was free!

TN Vacation: Railroad Museum

The plan was to ride this historic train at 1030AM and then drive downtown and catch the Incline Train, grab lunch and then visit the Aquarium. Sadly that was not to be. The TVRM oversold seating on the train. The only saving grace was that the tickets could be used any time that day and there were 4 other opportunities. When we finally got back after the longer-than-expected sojourn at the top of Lookout, the ride was nice. It didn't go far, but did include seeing the turntable spin the loco around and a visit to the shops. The so-called museum car didn't have a whole lot going for it, and was hot, hot, hot. We've now ridden historic trains in VA (several), WV (several), MD, NC (several) and TN.

TN Vacation: Incline Train

View of 3 of the 6 (supposed) states (TN, NC, GA) one can see from the top of Lookout Mtn.

We took a weekend jaunt to Chattanooga last weekend. Friday when we arrived we dove into the pool then had supper, drove around (into GA, just to say we went there) and called it a night.

Saturday we went to the Incline Train which climbs Lookout Mountain and reaches a maximum grade of 72% near the top. It was hot at the bottom where we started, and we had to wait through three cycles of the train to get aboard. But the view up top was nice enough.

A new window

The upper sash for one of the dining room windows was broken when we purchased the house. The upper pane of glass was totally gone. There was a storm window there, so we didn't worry too much about it. We had found a replacement window in the shed when we were looking at the house, presumably for this broken window. We made it part of the purchase agreement. But then once we got into the house, we hemmed and hawed about how to go about fixing the window. On the one hand we dreamed of being able to afford having someone repair the broken sash and replace the pane of glass. But we never got around to it. For the past 3 winters we've but plastic sheeting over the window to keep the worst of the cold air out, but with only so-so effect.

This spring Libby finally came around to my point of view (I had gotten to this point about a year ago). We agreed to go ahead and put the replacement window in. I saved the old window, including the lead weights for the sashes. (I had understood that usual experience was that these would be lost. But upon opening up to make the switch, the weights were right there in an open cavity.) Too, I learned just why the windows in this house are so drafty: the way things are put together at least on this window, there is a one-inch gap around the frame, nothing filling it, so nothing but exterior siding and interior paneling between us and the elements. I had fun-with-foam filling up those gaps.

The removal of the old window and putting the new in went smoothly. I spent today caulking and otherwise sealing the thing up and putting things back together (all of the trim was salvageable). Next is priming and painting. I'll be very interested in how this new window holds out the cold weather this winter, compared to the original windows on the house. Much as we like the look of the original windows, even with the storm windows over them, they are drafty in winter.

Day on the lake

Eli, Briggs and I spent today at Lake James. We had borrowed a canoe and other equipment from my buddy Andy G. Andy's directions were spot on and we were on the water by 1030AM.

We headed for a large island in the middle of the lake. The island had several small coves; we pulled into three of them and ate at the third. After lunch we continued our circumnavigation of the island. Both Eli and Briggs helped with the paddling. Eli had earned the canoeing merit badge at Scout camp three weeks ago, and then had taken canoeing as one of his activities at Camp Rockmont. He's got the essentials down pat!

We saw some neat boats, including a dredging barge. We were able to work on the skill of turning the canoe so as not to get too wobbly from the wakes from the larger boats!

By then it was beginning to look a little bit cloudy. We headed in; luckily no storm. We drove around a little and explored the area, thinking of places we'd like to explore next time (a train trestle bridge, Catawba River, etc.)

Lake Lure

We decided to make a run down to Lake Lure on Saturday. We had driven through the area right after we moved here, but had never gone to the beach at the lake. That was the plan for yesterday. We had a nice time. The beach is very clean. There is a small splash area with fountains, plus a couple of water slides. Briggs tried those out yesterday, his first time. The weather was okay: partly cloudy and not overly hot. We wondered if we would get rained on and run off. We had a picnic lunch under the shelter. Unfortunately all the tables were occupied by other families; most seemed to have staked claim to their table for the day, shutting them out for anyone else. That kind of blew. The rain held off there; it poured at home later in the evening. All in all a nice day trip.

Lake Lure is in the Hickory Nut Gorge in Rutherford County and is surrounded by Chimney Rock (soon to be an official state park) and Rumbling Bald Mountain. You drive through Bat Cave, NC, Chimney Rock, NC on the way south to Lake Lure.

ATL Braves #9998

Briggs and I went to Atlanta Thursday to see his first MLB game. I purchased the tickets on-line and thought I had us in the shade. Section 325 at 115PM was smack dab in the middle of the sun and hotter 'n hell! The back of the second deck for us next time! Actually by 3PM it looked like our seats had been taken over by shade, but by then we had found seats in the 400's.

We watched innings 1-2 and then went walking during 3; came back and sat in the fourth level, in the shade, for innings 4-5-6. We walked around some more during 7 and sat for 8 and the top of the 9. The Braves were ahead coming into the 9th, so when Colorado failed to score again, the game was done after the first half of the inning. It was kind of cool because the team is homing in on win #10,000.

We parked on Pryor Street, in the YMCA lot which was only $8, and worked really well. it's a bit further to walk (about an extra block), but the guy seemed genuinely friendly and the lot was secure. I got a little rattled leaving town, but a straight shot all the way back up Courtland to JW Dobbs Avenue should work fine next time.

The main thing, though, was that Briggs had a blast. There were a couple of home runs, so he got to see some fireworks from the Coke bottle; he ran around in Sky Field; he threw some (24mph) pitches downstairs.

I never watched pro ball as a kid. But have now seen MN Twins, B'more Orioles and ATL play at home. Briggs is trying to claim the Twins game because he was in utero at the time!

It was about 215 miles from Black Mountain, and right at 3.5 hours driving the speed limit (Thank you, Alice P.). Fast food at Gainesville is not right of the highway, so we lost some time there; pick another place for a quick lunch. The game was done at 420PM; we were on the road by 440PM. Downtown was starting to pick up tempo (in a perverse, opposite kind of way). We added about 45 minutes to the return trip because of rush hour traffic.

Around the Folly July 2011

A couple of random pictures from early summer. We have a purple martin family in this bird house. Libby took several pictures trying to get one of the occupants. This is the best. There are also blue birds in a house on the back fence. One of the young was struggling to learn to fly last week; I had to pick it up and put it back in the house a couple of times before it really took off and stayed out of the way of the lawn tractor! And a shot of two goofy boys rolling around in the grass.

Historic train in Buncombe County

Working on clearing the right-of-way for the spur

Libby found information about the Craggy Mountain Line recently. Apparently a non-profit is seeking to restore 3.5 miles of a Southern Railroad spur and equip it with historic vehicles. The non-profit has been going since 2001. Last month they set one of the vintage passenger cars back on trucks for the first time in 75 years. The line is based in Woodfin which is a bedroom community north of Asheville.

Some history of this line: the Asheville and Craggy Mountain Railway was intended in 1889 to travel between the city and this mountain north of town; it was never completed.

The new non-profit group has some ambitious plans including a park and museum as well as rides on the restored cars. Late last year the group finished phase one of their plan, which was restoring track. It seems like the spur will run from the center of Woodfin to the French Broad River.

Matt Tate of the Weaverville Tribune has been documenting the group's progress. Rocky Hollifield seems to be the key player within the non-profit's organization. It looks like they have a slew of rolling stock in various stages of restoration. At least one car is from Asheville's old trolley system; another is a C&O caboose. I'll try to take the boys over one day this summer to see if there is anything to see yet.

Car 119, recently completed restoration

Composting

We wound up with a couple of spare 55-gallon barrels recently. We're going to place one under a gutter down-spout. The other Libby wanted to turn into a compost container. I found a nice design for one that would rotate here. I took Briggs and bought the wood and hardware, and then got Eli to help me put it together. It took me about 3 hours to finish it. It works okay, even if there are some flaws in the construction (I would have preferred that crossing on the back side to be centered). Time to fill it up!

Raised bed

One of a mere handful of berries this season

We have had strawberries in the front garden pretty much since we moved in. They have been crowded out, though, by other plants. We decided to put them and perhaps some other food plants in a raised bed. I built the frame over the weekend, and added the dirt yesterday. We put it down near the big vegetable garden near the apple trees and play set. I am going to fill in some dirt around the outside of the base, and amend the (store-bought{gasp}) top soil. More later...

The new bed...

Weather coverage

Photo from Alabama, from Huffington Post

I was getting a little perturbed this morning by the coverage of recent weather. The storm that blew through Joplin, MO was called the "single deadliest storm in US history." I wondered, "whatever happened to the events in Alabama and other southern states in late April?" I also tried to keep in mind that coverage in the early days after such an event can sometimes tend toward the hyperbolic. On the surface it smacked of racism and disregard of the poor or of the South. I was wrong.

Alabama experienced a series of tornadoes. There were 312 reported, with 226 of those taking place in a single 24-hour period. The storm in Joplin was a single twister. The death toll in the Southern storms was 337 in 7 states. (That's second only to a weather disaster in 1925 when 747 people died.) There are reports of more than 100 deaths from the storm in Joplin.

Reporting of news sometimes worries me. Coverage of abducted white children getting more airtime than those of black kids; news from the 'burbs taking precedence over events downtown.

But in this case, I think I have to climb down off my high horse. And I'll be praying hard for those affected, and those involved in rescue and restoration.

Photo from Joplin, MO, from MSNBC.com

Stormy weather

We knew it was coming. But at 5PM it was sunny. By 6PM it was black with cloud cover. Then suddenly the wind, then hail. We were in Richmond 14 years and experienced hail once; so far we're in Black Mountain 4 years and have had hail three times. It poured for about 15 minutes then switched to rain. The whole time with the wind. It was pretty incredible. At one point I asked Libby if what we were hearing was indeed a train moving through the area, or something more ominous; it was indeed a train. Ultimately the power went out and stayed out for about 6 hours. A tree snapped down the block. Because it affected only a small number of people we were slower getting power back. The family got to enjoy a very quiet evening at home while I had a rehearsal at church. According to Briggs it was the best-night-ever!

Camping

After Scouts a couple of weeks ago, Eli, Briggs and I were talking about camping. Briggs' meeting had dealt with setting up a tent. We realized we had not been camping since getting to the mountains more than 4 years ago, and committed to a camping adventure. What I discovered a while back and quickly got reminded of is that in NC the State camping areas are all (at least all that I have looked at) primitive. That's different from Virginia, where the State parks and camping facilities are very, very nice. Here in NC the private campgrounds are the more refined. I suspect capitalism is involved; but that's another article. It was kind of nice in VA to know that the State Parks would be very nice. Here you really have to hunt down, research and vet camping facilities to know what you are getting. I finally found a camping facility that suited me: Bear Den Family Campground, nominally in Spruce Pine. They had drive-in tent sites and water and electricity available at each site. When we got there, it proved to be nicer than expected: the bath-house was very clean and the ancillary facilities (canoeing, swimming, basketball, etc.) were in very good shape.



We had a very nice time. Eli was especially helpful during set-up and striking camp. The past few years he has done more and more camping with Scouts and as part of his time at Rockmont. He knew what had to be done and was able to carry out jobs in ways I hadn't seen before. It was Briggs' first camping trip, and he managed to be helpful as best he could. He really enjoyed having basketball available.

The place was pretty deserted; there was a couple camping next to us, and that was pretty much it in our part of the grounds. The camp hosts were friendly but kept out of our hair. We spent the first evening exploring and trying out the pond and basketball court. We cooked over the campfire rather than gas; we took our own wood (which made loading the car tighter!). The weather cooperated, though we woke to cloudy weather. After breakfast and a little bit more exploring, we struck camp. We went gem mining at a place in Spruce Pine; the boys got some cool rocks. Then we stopped by the NPS mineral museum nearby. Finally we hit the road for home, via the Parkway. Since we had not other plans or schedule, we struck off for Mt. Mitchell when we got near it, even though it was quite evident that the view was socked in. For me and Eli that was the best part. We usually try to visit when the weather is nice and clear and you can enjoy the view. Briggs was very tired and had no interest. but toughed it out and made the ascent with us and discovered iced-up water at the summit. We got to experience it totally deserted and with 50 mph winds and zero-visibility fog.

We noticed that the Parkway between Mitchell and almost-Asheville had been repaved. A sign told us: "your recovery dollars at work." It was nice to enjoy that leg of the trip sans bumpiness.

There is a season

Basketball finished up today with a pizza and awards ceremony. Such as it was. Libby reports that everyone got exactly one piece of pizza, and the coaches gave out the awards to their own team. Very low-key, in the extreme. Everyone got the same mini-trophy; it's all good as far as Briggs is concerned. He had a good time, though, and that's the main thing. They also received their team photos. He really liked his coach. They had sign-ups for baseball this morning too. Practice starts next Saturday. Reminds me of the line by Sinbad, "man, I won't sleep 'til June!" Last week Libby reported that Briggs commented on the lawn under the goal at home, "Mom, why is the grass missing here under the goal?" Go figure, son.

A car is born

A pine wood derby car that is.

Pack 50 had its Pine Wood Derby last week. It went very well. Briggs asked that his car be designed like it was for both NC State (in honor of Bud and Greg) and Duke (iho Libby). He assisted all along the way. I weighed it at the church at 5.0 ounces; when we got to check-in, they registered 4.7 oz. Arrgh.

We were still in the midst of a lot of sickness around the Folly. Briggs had missed four days of school and his last basketball game on the morning of the derby. A flu-like bug had eased somewhat, only to give rise to some sort of eye infection that caused his eye to swell. Hence the odd features on his face. But he was determined.

In the first three of his heats, his car came in 2nd, 3rd and 4th. He blew by me at one point after the third race and stated quite certainly that in his next, and final heat, his car would place first. I wasn't holding out much hope. But Briggs was certain. And of course he wound up being correct. His last heat, his car came in first.

Birthday

Calvin turned three last month. Everyone was busy and had been sick off and on for a week, so it was all we could do to mount an effort. We also managed to enjoy a version of Mid-Winter Love Festival : 14 February - Libby's Birthday). The theme this year was snacky treats from around the world, concluding with a bottle of chocolate wine. It's still sitting on the counter.