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Burningtown News, Sunday, November 29, 2015
Good Evening to All the People All Over the World,
PRAYER REQUEST
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
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Our
Pastor, Rev. Brian Holland will present a program on Christmas traditions
from a Christian standpoint, on Sunday, December 13,
at 6:00 p.m. in the Sanctuary.
Burningtown
Baptist will have a Christmas dinner on Wednesday, December 16, at 6:00
p.m.
--
Art Reception with Kay Smith- Wednesday, Dec. 2, 4-6 p.m. in the Macon
County Public Library Meeting Room- Enjoy summer in December~ December's
"Blooming Flowers" art exhibit will feature a collection of
21 vibrant flowers by local artist, Kay Smith. The oil paintings look
so real that one can almost smell their fragrant perfume or touch their
delicate petals. Everyone is welcome to join us for an opening reception
with refreshments and a visit with the artist. Visit kaysfineart.com
for more about the artist.
--
New
Movie "Aloha" starring Bradley Cooper, Rachel McAdams, and
Emma Stone on Thursday, Dec. 3 at 2:00 pm. & 6:00 p.m. in the Macon
County Public Library Meeting Room: A celebrated military contractor
returns to the site of his greatest career triumphs - the US Space program
in Honolulu, Hawaii - and reconnects with a long-ago love while unexpectedly
falling for the hard-charging Air Force watchdog assigned to him. Rated
PG-13 for some language including suggestive comments; 1 hr. 45 min.
Classic
movie "Blossoms in the Dust" starring Greer Garson and Walter
Pidgeon Friday, Dec. 4 at 2:00 p.m. in the Macon County Public Library
Meeting Room: Based of a true story- Edna Gladney lost her son when
he was very young. By chance she discovered the injustice within the
law towards children whose parents are unknown, and decided to open
an orphanage for these children, despite the stigma. She fought against
the unfair laws that discriminated against children born out of wedlock.
1 hr. 39 min.
Kristina Lynn Moe
kmoe@fontanalib.org
Macon County Public Library
149 Siler Farm Road
Franklin, NC 28734
828-524-3600
fontanalib.org
facebook.com/FontanaRegionalLibrary
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FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
DIGGER. A novel by Jim Kautz
When the aging archaeologist has dug his last flake of earth, will he
be able to uphold his long-time vow to defend his Christian tradition?
He has hoped to find archaeological proof of the biblical kingdom of
David-but he has not considered the effect his quest will have on his
faith.
Franklin, North Carolina. November 2015
Jim Kautz, an experienced archaeologist and professor of biblical studies,
traces the life of Paul Gartin from his conservative Evangelical youth
through his struggles with fundamentalism. Gartin is a respected biblical
archaeologist raised and educated in an environment steeped in fundamentalism
and deeply conservative Christianity. His life revolves around a quest
for archeological evidence supporting the biblical record.
Gartin's
odyssey takes him to the Middle East, where he meets graduate student
Martha Eichhorn, a beautiful and intelligent woman who challenges Paul's
philosophy and also his beliefs about love.
Encountering
resistance and open hostility to the idea of biblical archaeology, Paul
embarks on an audacious undertaking-to locate physical evidence of the
kingdom of David at Khirbet Hamam, south of Bethlehem. He secures financing
from a fundamentalist source that expects his findings to mesh with
their beliefs-and has little patience for contradictory evidence. Meanwhile,
ultra-conservative forces are tightening their control of the seminary
where he teaches. For his part, Paul must decide what to do should his
scholarly findings dispute his own faith and commitment to biblical
authority.
The
public seldom sees the struggle within the souls of theologians and
religious leaders when they carefully examine the Bible in the light
of science. Digger offers a deeply moving account of one man's struggle
with faith, traditional religion, and his scientific training.
James
R. Kautz grew up in the Washington, DC area. He received a PhD from
the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky and
studied anthropology at the University of Tennessee.
Kautz
did archaeological fieldwork in Palestine's West Bank, Israel, and Jordan.
He taught at Louisiana College, Carson-Newman University, and the University
of Tennessee. His historical and environmental travelogue, Footprints
Across the South: Bartram's Trail Revisited, was a finalist in ForeWord
magazine's 2007 Book of the Year Awards.
Digger
is Kautz's first novel, published at the age of 76. He lives in the
Appalachian mountains of North Carolina.
For
a limited time, subscribers to the Burningtown News may buy an autographed
copy by sending a $15 check to Jim at 2048 Rose Creek Road Franklin,
NC 28734.
--
Archie
Watkins will be singing at Iotla Baptist Sunday night at 6; everyone
invited. Love offering taken. Please add to Burningtown news. Thank
you. Barbara
ARTICLES, LETTERS, POEMS, PICTURES AND THINGS
"May I Tell You About My Daughters?"
Larry Alan Reeves, Region A Long Term Care Ombudsman
Southwestern Commission- Area Agency on Aging
My daughters are the source of great pride and pleasure in my life.
No one else even comes close to competing for my love, devotion, sense
of amazement and amusement, awe, wonder, excitement, enthusiasm, anticipation,
compassion, passion, unwavering commitment, unlimited forgiveness, and
a million other feelings and emotions. No doubt, those of you who are
parents/grandparents/step-parents/adoptive-parents/foster-parents/ "God"-parents
understand and are able to relate to my expressions of love and appreciation
for the two daughters it is my honor to call "my children".
I cannot think of anything that has the potential to change the way
I feel about my daughters. I am "in their corners" and available
to them as they need and desire. Whatever and whenever literally means
"whatever and whenever".
When the mother of my daughters and I sought to have children she developed
a serious health problem during our first pregnancy. She had a rare
and unusual complication. The results of the complication were the termination
of the pregnancy, a scary emergency surgery, and an extended time of
treatment with a prestigious medical center. We figured that we would
never be able to parent children. We were considering trying to adopt.
But, miracle of miracles, when the treatment period lapsed our first
was on the way.
At the end of nine months Rebecca Joye came into the midst of our world.
She was named "Rebecca" in honor of my Granny, Vera Rebecca.
"Joye" was her middle name, chosen because she was a joy that
we did not anticipate having to enrich our lives. The evening of her
birth I went to the market, purchase bags of miniature Almond Joys.
Instead of cigars I passed out Almond Joy candy bars, adorned with a
pink ribbon. The day after her birth I took a phone-book from Knoxville,
TN, chose the names of 10 people that I did not know, and placed a call
to their listed numbers. When the phone was answered I responded to
their "Hello" by saying something like, "I know you do
not know me. Before you hang up, may I tell you about my daughter?"
If I was given the go ahead, I proceeded to tell them about my "Little
Bundle of Joy" that was in the nursery of St. Mary's Hospital.
The response was fascinating. Most offered congratulations, some thanked
me for the call and wished us well, and only one accused me of being
in a drunken state.
Three years later, Sara Grace came into the world. She was named "Sara"
for her grandmother on her mother's side. We named her "Grace"
because we knew she was a special gift from the giver of all life to
us, with the responsibility to take good care of her and give her a
good start on her journey. It was fun handing out "Bit of Honey"
miniature candy bars with accompanying pink ribbons. Instead of calling
folks on the phone I approached 10 strangers saying, "May I tell
you about my daughter?"
As is the case with many parents, I have lots of stories to tell about
my daughters. However, all I will say at this point is that both are
gone to their own homes, grown, on their own, and have wonderful spouses
(Leejohn and Jeremy) of whom I am very delighted are sharing life with
my daughters.
-
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
www.regiona.org
larry@regiona.org
"I love the unimproved works of God." (Horace Kephart, 1906)
--
FEED
SACKS AND HAND-ME-DOWNS
By: Nita Welch Owenby
Back
when I was growing up, going to school was a necessity, not a choice,
at least until we got to the six or seventh grades. Education was the
important thing, but the clothes we wore came close behind. We kids
wore the same clothes year round, except that we needed a heavy coat
or jacket and heavy shoes in the winter months. Back in the mid to late
40s, there was little or no peer pressure, so we didn't pay much attention
to what anyone else wore. A few students had a little more than others,
but most of us were decked out in chicken feed sack clothes or hand-me-downs
from our older brothers and sisters. Having a patch on the seat or knee
of their britches was common for boys, and girls often had patches on
their dresses, or a sash that had gotten torn off at school and would
be hanging to the ground when we got home. Material things just didn't
bother us. We were basically a happy-go-lucky bunch of kids.
Wearing hand-me-downs from my older sisters made me feel like I was
really growing up. It didn't matter if Mamma had to take it up or let
it down a bit here and there. We three weren't all the same size. I
was the tallest, and always had a light streak around the bottoms of
my dresses where the fold had been after Mamma let my older sister's
dresses out. And since I was the youngest, my clothes got passed on
to relatives and neighborhood kids. If none of them were available,
Mamma would take them to my teachers at school to give to students who
needed them. Nothing was thrown away and everything was used and appreciated.
We only got one new pair of shoes a year and they were to wear to school
and church. I can remember Daddy taking me to Blumenthal's store to
buy my shoes. If it mattered to anyone that they were Jewish, I never
heard it mentioned, at least not in the presence of children. If a merchant
sold the best, everyone bought from them, and Blumenthal's sold the
best. Daddy even bought his overalls and work shirts there because of
the quality, and he could get them for tall, long armed men. If, for
any reason, the shirts were too short, Mamma would use another kind
of material and sew tails on them. The odd fabric was hidden down in
the pants when tucked in, so it didn't matter. I had to settle for the
brown leather lace-up shoes they sold because they lasted a long time.
I hated those shoes, but back then you didn't tell your parents you
hated something they bought for you. You took it and wore it. Having
shoes on your feet that didn't have holes in the sole was more important
than pride. The following year, when the shoes were well worn, they
were used to work in on the farm, even if the toes had to be cut out
to make them long enough, and it was back to Blumenthal's for a new
pair.
Once when Daddy was peddling apples, peaches, garden vegetables; whatever
was in season during that time of the year, he came upon a woman who
needed peaches to can, but she didn't have the money to pay for them.
She lived way back up in the mountains, had six kids, and Daddy had
sold to her for years. So, he asked her if she had anything she could
trade. She thought a while, went in the old rickety house and came out
with a big boll of hot pink silky material. Being pink, Daddy figured
that Mamma could use it for us girls, so he made the trade. When he
got home and showed the material to Mamma, she had just the right idea.
She got some cheap flannel material and made three hot pink jackets
lined with the flannel; one for each of my two older sisters and one
for me. They were beautiful, at first that is, until I outgrew mine
and had to start wearing Violet's. That lasted about two years, and
then I had to wear Mary Sue's. By the time I wore the third jacket out,
I swore I would never wear pink again for the rest of my life, and I
still don't.
I'm not sure about my older sister, Mary Sue; but Violet and I finally
reached the age when we could make our own clothes. They were still
made out of chicken feed sacks and we were proud of them. The flour
sacks were finer fabric and we used them to make our underclothes. None
of the cloth was wasted on making ruffles. The clothes were plain and
usually decorated by using two different colors of fabric, or rick-rack.
If a portion was left over, it was saved to use on the next dress, or
went into the quilt scrap box. We seldom got solid colored sacks, so
it was not unusual to mix floral prints and stripes together. I like
to think we started the fad, because today anything goes.
And I can remember the year I started getting two pair of shoes a year;
one for school and one for Easter. I think that was after Mary Sue graduated
high school and left home to work in Washington, D. C. The first time
I wore my Easter shoes, they hadn't been broken in and I started getting
blisters on my heels. We walked to church and about half way, there
was a big pile of rocks next to the trail. So, Mamma had me take off
my beautiful Easter shoes that I was so proud of, and placed them behind
a big rock in the pile to be picked up on the way home, and I went on
to church barefooted. It was a great disappointment, but Easter came
early that year, so I had the joy of going barefooted a little sooner
than I usually would have.
About two weeks before school started, Mamma would begin making dresses
for us. It was always so much fun to try and guess who the new one was
for. We had a pretty good idea, for about a month before school started
we would start picking out the sacks we liked best for our new outfits.
It was a disappointment if a mouse had chewed a hole in one of the sacks
and the Farmer's Federation, where Daddy bought the chicken feed had
stitched up the hole so the feed wouldn't spill out. But, genius that
she was, Mamma always managed to work around the hole and made the outfit
anyway. The Federation didn't do nearly as good a job at patching as
Mamma did. Every week we got sacks with different prints, so it was
a great joy to get enough to make a whole dress out of one color or
design.
If Mamma was fortunate enough to have a pattern, which was very expensive
on a farmer's budget, she would copy the pattern on newspapers and use
that until it wore out in order to make the new pattern last longer.
There was no such thing as buying one pattern for each of us. She would
just make the same pattern a little bigger for the older girls. With
three girls to sew for, she got so good; she could make a dress without
even using a pattern. They were all somewhat alike, but the different
prints of the fabric made all the difference in the world. I got the
small prints, Violet got the medium prints, and Mary Sue got the larger
prints. She even made my brother's and Daddy's shirts, but she was always
careful not to use the floral prints for them. But, with them mostly
wearing the shirts out in the fields to work, it didn't matter much
anyway.
So, back in my early days, words had a totally different meaning than
they do today. "Wear ever" meant you wore it forever, and
later the word "WareEver" became the name of a set of expensive
pots and pans. I guess, in a sense, they meant about the same thing,
but I'm sure the clothes lasted a lot longer than the pots and pans.
Mamma made sure of that with the clothes, but she was never fortunate
enough to have a complete set of pots and pans that even came close
to all looking alike, much less having the same brand name. Wrought
iron and aluminum were more like it, and they were used and treasured
for years, just as were our chicken feed sack clothes and hand-me-down
shoes.
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TOO
MANY SUES
By: Roy Owenby
A storm
caught me by surprise, but I didn't stop. When the sun came out, I realized
I had taken the wrong road. I kept driving, but no one was outside to
ask directions. Finally, I saw a woman walking by the road. She had
on red short-shorts, and she was carrying a six-pack in each hand. As
I slowed, I rolled down the window. "Excuse me," I said. "Can
you direct me back to the interstate?" She looked like a deer caught
in the headlights. "Don't know nuthin' about them big highways,"
she replied. "I got a big map at the house that my third husband
left behind when he flew the coop. If'n ya wanna give me a lift, you
kin look at it." "Hop in," I said. As it turned out,
I was in Alum Springs, Virginia, which was in the middle of nowhere.
My passenger, Billie Sue, lived in an old dilapidated house with a wrap-around
porch on Little Creek Road which ran along Little Walker Creek. I asked
her why they left Walker out of the road name, and she laughed. "Them
idiots that work for the state left it out."
Upon arrival, she asked me if I would like to come in for a beer. "You
got anything to drink besides beer?" I asked. "I got coffee
and milk," she replied. "Coffee would suit me just fine,"
I said. There was no bridge so we had to wade across the creek. We talked
while I sipped my coffee and waited for my shoes to dry. Billie Sue
was quite intelligent; she could even read a little. Her dogs lived
on the porch, all ten of them. They kept in hunting condition by chasing
each other around the porch. She had three daughters, Bobbie Sue, Johnnie
Sue and Jackie Sue. She called them her little darlings, and I could
see why. "Their daddies rarely come to see them," she told
me unabashedly. "Maybe it's the dogs," I replied. "You're
such a kidder," she answered. "We're gittin' ready to eat,"
she added. "Ya might as well join us."
Bobbie Sue was the oldest. She was in the fifth grade, for the third
time. She complained that her English teacher didn't like her. "Do
you know why?" I asked. "The woman just don't like the way
I talk," she replied. "You sound all right to me; I wonder
what you say that bothers her." She rolled her eyes. "Well,
for one thing, she don't like for me to say ain't." I could see
fire in her eyes. "So, don't say it around her," I advised.
"I ain't gonna do it," she answered. "That's the way
Mama talks and that's good enough for me." Billie Sue butted in.
I had a sneaky feeling she did that a lot. "That there teacher
just don't like the way we mountain folks talk," she added. "Where
is the teacher from?" I asked, trying to soothe an obviously sore
subject. "She's one of them flauntchy city women from Charleston."
I worked "flauntchy" through my mental vocabulary. It wouldn't
process. Well, I thought; I've just learned a new word. I decided to
drop the subject before I became the scapegoat.
Billie Sue told me that Johnnie Sue looked just like her daddy. She
pulled out a picture in an old frame and showed it to me. He had on
an orange jump suit. "He wrote from California that he's a pilot
in the Navy," she said with a sparkle in her eye. There was something
written under the pocket, but I couldn't make it out. "Do you have
a magnifying glass?" I asked. Jackie Sue pulled one out of her
dilapidated book bag and handed it to me. I held it over the imprint
just below the pocket. I could just barely make it out. In neat black
letters, it read, "San Diego County Jail." "Kin ya read
it?" Billie Sue asked. "What's it say?" I pretended to
squint at it. "It says, "property of the U.S. Navy,"
I lied. "I told ya," she said.
Now, Jackie Sue didn't look like the other two at all. She looked like
a mixture of every race know to man, or woman either, for that matter.
Still, she was cuter than a speckled pup. She was in the middle of the
first grade, and I could tell that she was smart as a whip. That kid's
going to go places one of these days, I thought. But first she's got
to get away from Billie Sue and Alum Springs. During dinner, she insisted
on sitting next to me. "I think that girl's takin' a liking to
ya," Billie Sue said. "I hope so," I answered. "I
like all your girls." "That's what all mama's boyfriends say,"
Jackie Sue snickered. I resisted the temptation to ask if she could
name them. Maybe I can get it out of her later, I thought; but I never
did. Some things are best left unknown.
On my second visit, I built a footbridge across the creek so Billie
Sue and the girls wouldn't have to wade across. That precipitated several
other repairs that needed to be done. All were simple to do; it just
took some work. To reward me, she baked a pone of cornbread and fried
potatoes and onions. I passed on the beer and asked for a glass of milk.
"Coming right up," she said. She disappeared out the back
door and returned in about five minutes. She was carrying a small bucket
of milk and she poured out a glass and placed it in front of me. "There
ya are," she said, "straight from the cow." The milk
was still warm. It tasted just like Grandma used to give me when I was
a kid.
.
On my third visit, I sat on the couch and wondered what one does for
entertainment around Alum Springs. Billie Sue suddenly said, "Wanna
go coon huntin'?" I didn't, but I said, "Sure." Soon
we were climbing the mountainside with the dogs baying in the moonlight.
I carried the lantern; she carried the flashlight and the twelve-gauge.
After a while, the baying sounded different. Billie Sue said with some
conviction, "My honeys have treed a big coon." After a long
hard trek, we reached a huge maple tree surrounded by excited dogs.
She shined her light up into the tree. "There he is," she
said. I stared up into the tree. "That ain't no coon," I said,
"that's a possum." "Not to worry, honey" she said,
"They taste just as good." She fired up into the tree and
then wrestled the dogs for the prize.
It was midnight when we returned. She slept with the girls, and I slept
on the couch, or at least I tried to. Something kept hurting my back.
I got up, looked under the couch and found a case of Skoal. I relocated
it behind the TV. The rest of the night was uneventful except for the
sound of dogs running laps around the porch. Billie Sue woke me at dawn.
"Git up, honey," she said, "I've made some delicious
possum stew for breakfast." My stomach suddenly turned over. "I
never eat breakfast," I said. "It makes me gain weight."
"Suit yourself," she replied. I did drink two cups of coffee,
though. I watched her eat with some trepidation. Every so often I saw
her spit something into a bowl. "What's that?" I asked. "Buckshot,"
she replied. I decided to head out before lunch. I figured she might
serve more of the stew. The last time I saw her was in my rear view
mirror. She was feeding the hounds on the porch. I think it was my part
of the breakfast.
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ACTIVITIES OF THE WEEK
Hey
Mr. Fouts!
Wanted
you to know I have started on my collection for your next pick up! My
hubby found an old broken necklace in a parking lot... it was sterling
silver so I got three dollars and fifty cents from the jeweler! :) I
will let you know when it gets more built up!
Happy
Sunday!
Lori Impagliatelli
EC:
Lori is really working hard to collect money. We hope everyone is looking
for a valuable piece of jewelry or money and will get it to me. Thanks
to Lori's husband is doing all he can to help her. Our thanks to both.
- -
JFJ,
MJ, and KJ traveled from Florida to spend Thanksgiving with us. JFJ
brought a container of coins that her father-in-law, Ken Jones, had
saved for me. KJ, my granddaughter, counted them. She sorted them out
so that it would be easier to determine the amount. This is how she
sorted them: 50 cents in pennies, $1 in nickels, $4 in dimes, $9 in
35 quarters and 25 pennies, and $1.28 leftover in dimes, nickels, and
pennies. This came to a grand total of $15.78. I would like to thank
Ken Jones who lives all the way down in Florida for thinking of the
poor man on Burningtown. KJ took a lot of pictures while she was here.
This is a panoramic picture taken from our front yard.
Last Sunday LF and I both went to church. Rev. Holland preached a mighty
good sermon about Thanksgiving. After the sermon we came back home for
dinner. ST brought some stuffed shells. I had never eaten any of those.
I found them to be very good. LF had cooked up some corn and green beans
to go with the shells. If you would like the recipe for stuffed shells,
ST will give it to you.
Jim Fouts and Marilyn Roper came up here Sunday afternoon. They came
in, sat down, and stayed a pretty good while. It sure was nice to have
them visit. Marilyn had several pictures she wanted LF to look at. Jim
brought me some money he had been collecting this week. There was one
dollar bill, nine quarters, four dimes, three nickels, and eleven pennies.
Bill
Fouts, Marilyn Roper and Sara Wilson had put the money in there.
LF and I went to Visitation for Jim Hughes on Monday. There were many
people there. When we came out, Mike Johnson was coming up the steps.
The big steps are on the outside. He handed me a gold dollar coin. Then
Guy Fouts handed me a green dollar. That was mighty nice getting that
there money from them. The both seemed to be doing all right along with
others that were standing around out there. I would have stood around
for awhile, but it was awfully cold.
We had a wonderful Thanksgiving Day. We gathered at GT and ST's house
to give thanks and eat a big dinner. Everyone brought food and it was
very good. Here is the list of who came: MF, LF, JG, LG, and CMG from
Asheville, Ruth and Ed Simonds, JFJ, MJ and KJ. MJ spent the night with
GT and ST and helped ST set the table by folding the napkins to look
like turkey tails. JFJ had taught her how to fold napkins like that.
Below is a picture showing what a wonderful job she did.
On Friday, WG came to visit his parents and the rest of the family.
It was great to see him. He is working hard and enjoying his work with
the Raleigh Police Department. LG took a photo of him and JG working
and that will be in next Sunday's news. WG, JFJ, MJ and KJ all left
this morning to head back to their homes. We'll miss them.
DEER PICKING FOOD FOR THANKSGIVING
LF took the picture of the deer on the day before thanksgiving. The
deer would not line up the way she asked them too.
We hope you had a wonderful week and a blessed Thanksgiving Day!
Remember
the poor man and his thankful little wife on Lower Burningtown.
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
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