Burningtown News, Sunday, February 21, 2016


Josh and Kristen Lynch welcomed Kasen James Saturday around 1:00 p.m. I hope to have a picture of Kasen by next Sunday. Kasen is my great-great nephew. Kasen is a grandson of Wayne and Barbara Lynch. Everyone is doing fine.

Please remember the following in your prayers this week.

Lucy Mason   Ken Shepherd   Nell Duvall Welch   Lori Impagliatelli   Harry Henry   Melba Martin   Melba West   Meredith Jones   Clarence Scott
Linda Campbell   Pamela West   Bob Bryson   Sue Martin   Oweila T F   Sue West   Beatrice Deweese   Wayne Powers   Charles West   Tom Needham

Please let me know if there are names listed above that should be taken off. Thank you.


Mary Lou Moses died last Tuesday morning. She is survived by her husband Eddie Moses. Mary Lou used to attend Burningtown Baptist Church. Dixie Welch is her Aunt. Her funeral was on Friday.

Clayton Ramsey died Friday, February 19, 2015. Clayton was well known in Macon County and throughout the State. He taught school for many years at Franklin High School. He was Principal of Macon Middle School. His funeral will be February 28, 2016 at First Methodist Church. Bryant Funeral Home will publish more information this coming week.


Rev. Brian Holland will bring the message on Sunday morning, February 28 2016, at 11:0, at Burningtown Baptist Church.


From Iotla Baptist Church

The Inspirations… Will appear in gospel concert

Date: Thursday, February 25, 2016

Time: 6:00 PM

Place: Iotla Baptist Church of Franklin
For more information call 524-7167



EC: I did not hear from Donna Mathis this week.

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They Will Only Give Me A Fifteen-Year Warranty!"
Larry Alan Reeves, Region A Long Term Care Ombudsman
Southwestern Commission- Area Agency on Aging

My mother called me on the phone. She said, "Larry, Dad wants you to come to see him as soon as you can." It was late in the evening when she called. I told her to tell my grandfather that I would be able to come to his house the following morning. Throughout the night, I kept wondering as to the reason he wanted me to come so promptly. I did not have a clue. My mother did not give me a hint as to what he wanted.

I arrived at his house around 8:00 am the following morning. I found him sitting on the front porch, waiting for me. His first words to me upon approaching him were, "Where have you been? Nearly half of the day is gone." Before I could respond he said, "I need you to take me to town." As quickly as a 100 year-old man could move, he brushed past me on the way to my truck. Once he and I were settled we headed towards Waynesville. Leaving the Iron Duff Community behind I asked him where we were going, as I needed to plan our trip. He said, "My freezer went out and I need to buy another one". In my mind I started a list all of the places in Waynesville that sold appliances, freezers in particular.

We went to Haywood Appliances, Sears, Lowes, and Massie's Furniture. All of them had freezers. However, he was not satisfied. The more that we looked, the more dissatisfied he became. He got pretty upset, in fact. Finally, I said, "Granddad. What has you so upset? We've been to every store in Waynesville that sells freezers. We've looked a several different models, sizes, and brands. You have not indicated that any of them were suitable for your liking. The prices they are asking are very similar, not much difference at all. I do not know where else to go. Do you want to go over to Asheville?" He focused his steel-blue eyes on me and said, "Well son, the problem is they will only give me a fifteen-year warranty on them freezers. Now what am I going to do in fifteen-years when that runs out and my freezer quits?" I could find no comeback to my 100 year-old grandfather who was worried about a freezer going out on him in fifteen years.

I look forward to calling on someone when I am 100 to take me to buy something with only a fifteen-year warranty. I look forward to saying, "Now what am I going to do in fifteen-years when it runs out?"
Larry Reeves
Long Term Care Ombudsman
Region A, Southwestern Commission
125 Bonnie Lane
Sylva, North Carolina 28779
(828)586-1962, ext. 223
FAX (828)586-1968

"I love the unimproved works of God." (Horace Kephart, 1906)


By: Nita Welch Owenby

My Grandpa Deck Welch was as good a man as God ever put on this earth. He was more than just a grandpa to me; he was my friend, companion when I was lonely, and one of the greatest teachers I ever had. Though he was bent and crippled with arthritis by the time I came into the family, it never stopped him from being and doing all he could. He was loved by everyone, we kids swarmed around him like bees to hear his stories, and I was sure that he could walk on water if he had a mind to.

The stories he told were far more exciting than any comic books, though few of us could afford those books back then. I have a feeling he would have made TV show producers ashamed of themselves, but at that time TV was still a thing of the future and I held him in awe. Today I wonder just how much of Grandpa's stories were true, and how much was wonderful mysteries that filled his mind as he spoke, but it didn't matter to us kids. He was our entertainment. On Sunday afternoons there would be a dozen or more of us kids at his and Grandma Cordie's house, eager to hear a new story, or even an old one told over and made more exciting by "additional things" he forgot to include the last time. Often, he would silently laugh as he told the stories about days when he was growing up, people he used to know that had passed on, and how life used to be long before out time.

Since Grandpa moved slowly, due to his drawn, bent body, he couldn't get out and play with us. But, he did the next best thing. He would sit in his chair under the old maple tree in the yard, and we'd play "Hide the Hickory." That expression came from the fact that a hickory switch was powerful good for whooping backsides if kids got caught doing something they shouldn't, or for maybe not doing something they should. And back then, a whipping wasn't considered "child abuse." More like backside abuse to teach children to mind their P's and Q's. If we didn't get one or two switching a week, our parents thought we were sick and we had to take Caster Oil or drink Boneset Tea, and that was worse than a switching. One neighbor we had said that every morning when he got up, he just went ahead and whooped all three of his boys and got it over with for the day. But I'm getting away from my line of thought. Grandpa would pick one of us to hide the hickory and the rest of the kids had to turn their backs and hide their eyes. He usually chose one of us younger ones as we were not too good at finding a hiding place, and he silently indicated where we should hide the switch by pointing. Then the rest had to hunt, and he would tell them if they were "hot" or "cold." Whoever found the switch won, and got to hide it the next time. I guess that would bore kids today, but back then we didn't know what boredom was. We had to work hard through the week, and Sunday was a time of going to church in the morning and enjoying family and friends in the afternoon.

When I was about four or five years old, both of my older sisters were in school and I was left at home alone, so I always turned to the companionship of Grandpa. One cold February day I got so tired of winter, because I wanted to get outside and play in the sunshine. Grandpa sensed that I was not my usual happy self. He and Grandma were living with us then, and he was sitting in his easy chair, turned toward the double windows so he could look out and enjoy the view of the outside, though he was long past getting out there and taking advantage of it. He called me to him and asked what was wrong with his Pet. That was what he always called me. I told him I didn't like winter because it was cold and nasty and I couldn't go outside. Grandpa never laughed at my childish statements, but he pulled me up on his lap, and I could feel his body rocking as he silently enjoyed the amusement he got from my words. He always thought out what he was going to say, and as he slowly spoke, the lesson he taught me is something I have always held dear in my heart.

"Pet," he said, "do you know that we have to have winter's cold, nasty weather so we can have spring and summer?" This made no sense to me as a child, but I knew if Grandpa said it, it was true. I told him no, and he continued to explain in words that a little child could understand. He asked me to remember how it was in spring when the trees put out new leaves; produced fruits, and all the flowers started coming up out of the ground and blooming into a new life of beauty. Stilled puzzled, I said yes, but Grandpa's stories were always exciting and this one just didn't seem to be getting anywhere. Then he explained to me that the trees and grass and flowers work very hard each spring as they come out of the ground, or give out their beauty in new leaves and fruits. He told me how hard they work to give us all these wonderful things that we love and enjoy. Now, what he said was beginning to make sense to my young mind. Then he explained that after all this work the trees, grass and flowers do during the spring and summer, they got tied, just like we do when we work hard. He said, "Pet, they have given us their all for this year, and they need to rest so they can be with us again come spring. And, God gave us winter so everything can take a rest and make plans for what they are going to do when they wake up in spring."

Well, the story wasn't all that exciting for a child, at the time, but I knew that if Grandpa said it, it meant that I should be glad we had the miserable winter weather that I still didn't like.

Grandpa died when I was ten years old. That was my first experience with death, and it just didn't seem right that God would take him from me and all the others that so loved him. There was a big snow on the ground when Grandpa died, and that didn't seem quite right either, but I was old enough to know that God knew what He was doing. I finally came to understand that I was sure God put Grandpa here on earth for a special purpose, he had served his purpose, and God needed him in Heaven. But, I knew Grandpa would always be with me. He taught me the beauty of what most of us see as a dull winter. But in doing so, he also taught me the beauty of life and gave me my love of nature.


By: Roy Owenby

Have you ever noticed that people sometimes convey contempt by being nice? In a sense, this defies all logic, but it's true. Hotel desk clerks have honed this approach to their fellow man down to a science. So have bank tellers, hospital personnel, convenience store clerks and government employees. Social Services employees are another group that does especially well at it. They deal with people who have low self-esteem, and as a consequence, they almost always get away with it. I think it gives them a thrill to exercise power over the unfortunate. Instead of their haughty attitude, they should be saying, "There save the Grace of God, go I." My sister and I experienced this first hand at an office in Franklin right after our dad died.

I experienced this again on one occasion when I accompanied my mom on a Medicaid visit. For Mom's sake, I endured it for quite a while. I should have called the woman on it before my anger reached the boiling point, but I didn't. After about fifteen minutes of this holier than thou attitude, I let the lady have it with both barrels. I don't know who was shocked the most, the perpetrator or Mom. When she started to threaten me, I asked to speak to her supervisor. She ran into an office in the back to make sure her side of the story was presented first.

After making sure that I waited a good while, the supervisor came out. The offending clerk was nowhere to be seen. Naturally, she didn't believe that her subordinate had been rude to Mom and me. I told her that I want to speak to the director. Instead, she went back to her office, retrieved the offending clerk and stood behind her while all those pages of bureaucratic paperwork were processed. Butter would have melted in their mouths, but I could see the resentment in their eyes. Recently, I read a book entitled Deer Hunting with Jesus. The author, Joe Bageant, pointed out this perennial problem in one of his chapters. He had experienced this same bad behavior from social service personnel in Virginia. In my most recent career, I have assisted a long list of people who often live on the edge and have ailing kids and parents. Many of them have complained to me about this type of treatment. Now, this is not a diatribe against all Social Service employees; many of them are very helpful and kind to their clients. Unfortunately, too many of them have ice water in their veins.

Now, most of us country folk are accustomed to eating in our local restaurants where the waitresses call us honey and darling. Not so with pricy restaurants in the big city. "Good morning, sir, how may I help you?" Those waiters are especially good at saying the right words with ice hanging from every syllable. The words are perfect and yet the voice oozes with contempt. If by chance, you call them on it, they will pretend that they don't know what you're talking about. They sometimes feign shock and surprise that someone would think such a thing. Part of the problem is that they have done it so much and so often that they aren't sure they are doing it.

Hotel desk clerks are another group who excel at this approach to humanity. And of course, the pricier the hotel, the haughtier the attitude. They approach their customers as if the world owes them a living. Too, I'm convinced that most of them are in cahoots with the taxi driver, maitre'de, and all the other leeches that milk hotel customers for excessive tips and get their share of kickbacks. Most of the time when I treat them the same way, they start warming up, but not always. Usually, I think they're just funny and ridiculous. Occasionally, one of them gets under my skin and I blast him or her thus proving that I can come down to their level. Now, I understand that many of their customers are stuffed shirts who are arrogant to the nth degree. Still, one would think they could recognize those types and save their icy attitude for them, but unfortunately, the opposite is usually the case. As soon as the character in the $900 suit steps up to the counter, the clerks automatically become sycophants. Icy certainly, but toadies nonetheless. The expensively dressed customer likes this kind of behavior because it makes him feel like he is part of the in-crowd of upper crust society. Never mind that he still owes for the suit on his credit card. Genuine politeness by these types is often considered a sign of weakness.

This nice as ice attitude is not always confined to the public sector. I know people who are like this all the time. Listening to them, one would think that life had dealt them a bad hand of cards. Unfortunately, the opposite is often true. Typically, they are upper or upper middle class or at least they think they are. I have also seen people who are as poor as church mice act in this manner. I can't help but believe they have formed some sort of psychological barrier in their mind that somehow helps them believe they're superior.

As far as I'm concerned, no human being is superior to another. Unfortunately, societies have fostered this type of social strata for thousands of years. The fact that mankind is now much more educated doesn't seem to help one bit. In fact, many of those who become educated set themselves up as better than those who aren't. And the icy attitudes are part and parcel of these social divisions. The jobs of hotel desk clerks and snooty waiters allow them to pretend they are part of the upper crust. This of course, arises out of the human need for power and recognition. For the most part, waiters and hotel clerks are just inanity personified, but looking down one's nose at sick, elderly or unemployed people from behind a desk is a different matter. A few months on the other side of the desk might teach some of them a lesson.

I was a friend of a successful writer for many years. He was, in fact, highly educated and well-to-do. When he talked to people, his education was obvious; and yet, he was warm, friendly and down-to-earth. He was born on a dirt farm in Oklahoma, but he never forgot his roots. His success brought him in contact with a lot of snooty people. He called them "The phony people." Like my deceased friend, most of us are turned off by those who pretend to be our betters. Too bad this pretentious population never learned the lesson of Luke 10:30-37.



We had a good Sunday on Valentine's Day last week. LF went to church. ST came up here about 15 minutes before LF did. Then LF came, then GT, and little later Jim Kautz came. We had Lasagna, salad and some of the Stack Cake LF had made. We talked around the table for a while and then went to the living room and talked some more. Jim stayed with us until about 4:00 p.m. and then he went home. They did not have choir practice because Jim and Dana Clements have gone to Panama Canal I think).

JG and LG went to Asheville and were not here to eat some of LF's stack cake. She had given JG some of it on Saturday night. They visited with John and Maria Langlois. Below is a picture of:

Maria Langlois and Lynne Garrison

LG and I went to the Retired School Personnel meeting at Angel Medical Center Wednesday morning. They gave door prizes before we left the meeting. Three people at our table won a prize. There were three people at our table. Bob Poindexter won a Museum bag, Claudette Leatherman won something, but I don't remember what it was, I won a lunch bag. LG took a picture of us, but it did not turn out.

LF went to church Wednesday night. I did not go. She did not know what they had for supper but our pastor continued his series on Revelation. Mary Green sent me 3 pennies. She had found them in Highlands.

I stopped by out at Jim's Shed this morning. He said he was doing fine. He gave me one twenty dollar bill, one five dollar bill, six one dollar bills, eleven quarters, six dimes, six nickels and seven pennies. People who had put the money in were, Bill Fouts, Benard Higgins, Mitchell Owenby, Marilyn Toper, Bill Fouts again, Mike Fouts, Tom Welch, Steve Rowland, Jim Fouts. Jim never says he had put money in, but I think he does put some in now and then. Others whose name I did not get probably put some in.

LF and I went down to the dumpsters this morning to haul some garbage away. Then we went up to Sew Creative. LF had taken a sewing machine foot up there to be fixed. The manager of the place said it did not need to be fixed. She hasn't tried it to find out if it is working or now but she will next week.

Alan Mashburn, who works at Ingles and was one of my students at Franklin High School said he had not received the Burningtown News in several weeks and did not read it because his name wasn't in it. I told Alan I would see that his name got in the news this week. I may have to put Alan's name again next week. Alan and Marshall were very good friends. Maybe he will tell me a good story for the BTN if I get up to Ingles this week.
JFJ got here around 1:00 p.m on Saturday. She didn't have much time to get ready to go to Martha Lamb's funeral. It was at 3:00 at Highlands Presbyterian Church. She did make it. I think JFJ is gonna stay up here until Wednesday. We are thinking about going over to LG's home for dinner today.

Below is a beautiful picture Ralph Preston, Staff Photographer sent.



We hope you have a wonderful week.
Remember the poor man and his inspired little wife on Burningtown. We will be thinking of you.

MF, Editor
LF, Operations Editor
ST, Circulations Manager
RO, Feature Story Author
NWO, Feature Story Author
AM, Arts Illustration Editor
RP, Photographic Editor
JK, Assistant Photographic Editor
DB, Copier
JB, Assistant Photographic Editor