B&T Sunshine Tour 2022 - Day 2

You never know how the day will go until well…the day goes. We started out looking for the Hatfield's in Pikeville but B was not really in the mood and we didn’t have a real plan so I didn’t complain. Later, in Tennessee though, we made a stop at a gas station and found a flier for a Hatfield-McCoy Self guided drive through that passes by grave yards and points of interest (killings?). If only we had had that the day before. It would have been a perfect tribute for a Pikeville visit. But we so loved the 23 South experience that we will be back and you gotta leave room to explore for the next time.

B was excited to get back on the road so off we went. Again taken by the beauty of 23 South, we traveled 3-½ hours to Ashville, NC. The cloudless blue skies were stunning against the Appalachian mountains. As I viewed the mountains to my right I kept seeing these stripes that waved along. I thought they were logs at first but turned out they were the tree’s shadows creating these flowing trails. It was gorgeous though trying to take pictures at 60 miles an hour wasn’t real successful.

I find that often I miss the best pictures because I’m in too much awe of what I see before me. This was particularly true of the blue ridge mountains so I downloaded a photo from the web taken by a Michael A Milton that does it justice.

Layers of blue shades lined the bright blue sky. The forests that cover these mountains are predominately made up of spruce and fir trees and they emit isoprene, a building block molecule for many compounds, into the atmosphere creating the blue hue! A moistness glistened my cheeks once again for the gorgeous sites of the world we have been blessed with to explore. I’ve missed it all for even longer than I thought. I flew from place to place for years to other wonderful places while missing so many glorious sites along the way. This trip was eyes open wide!

The Biltmore was a place we had hoped to hook up with B’s brother and his wife who live on their mountain in Vilas, NC. It didn’t work out this trip, but my husband was impressed by the estate layout so we planned to visit the house Day3. We shopped a bit and overheard a constant buzz of ‘You must come, We love to come for Christmas time at the Biltmore!” It was a full moon and a gorgeous night this night! I image it would be magical at Christmas.

Back in our room, we discovered that our nephew, Blake, and his wife, Kate, were only 90 minutes away. They were camping at a KOA in Blountville, TN off I-81. They had been traveling from upper California where they packed up their 6 cats, 1 dog and a snake in an RV to sojourn cross country to their new home in Maidens, VA! Unbeknownst to us, we must have crossed paths around Kingsport, TN earlier that day.

Smiles and sleep were coming much easier these days!

Going Dutch

"Grandma, I'm so hungry!" The savory warmth coming from the chicken stewing atop the old coal stove was more than this little one could take. Great-Grandma Sadie turned with hands stuffed in the front pockets of her cotton house dress contemplating my mother. She smiled and surprised her beloved granddaughter with a thick slice of home baked bread spread with sweet butter; topped with strawberry jam.

Picture this peanut of a girl seated too high for her feet to touch the ground and her torso barely tall enough for her chin to clear the heavy wood table. Her eyes widened and arms raised high towards her Grandma to accept her treat. She tipped her head up to allow the delicious fruit topping to drip down to her tongue then smear across her wide mouth as she stretched the bread and took a big bite. Uncle Dick meandered in, ruffled her hair lecturing "Eat the crust Patty. It'll put curl in your hair." "Uncle Dick! I already have curly hair!"

Grandpa Jim and Sadie's daughter, Grandma Helen lived on a farm. Every summer we would set up tables outside and invite family over for a huge picnic. The cousins would barrel towards the spacious front yard and team up for a rowdy game of softball. Even though my sisters and I were barely, if at all, in our teens, no one was excluded from the pick. I never saw balls hit so far or fly so high as I remember in those days.

Grandpa Jim had a bell he would clang to call us back to the house. At its beaconing, victorious or not, we would all run sweaty, hot and laughing up the hill ravenous for some grub! Grandma Helen served some of the absolute best shredded barbecue beef sandwiches stirred hot straight out of the oven. A delicious mainstay complimenting plates piled high with succulent pot luck choices of potato salads, devilled eggs, baked beans, Jello salads and lots of pies and cakes.

The pot that stewed the chicken and made memorable sandwiches landed third generation to my mother 40 years ago. To this day Patty remains a fearless and marvelous cook! When we were growing up, more often than not, Great-Grandma Sadie's old dutch oven held center stage at our family's Sunday dinner table. The lid with crusted sauce or jus along its edge, held in the heat of our main course while bread was warmed and drinks were poured and set at the table. The six of us would anxiously await the ceremonial lifting of the lid to inhale the evening's meal of pork and scalloped potatoes, roast with carrots, onion and potatoes, venison, squirrel or rabbit. We would then dig in and do what was cherished the most; share in each other’s lives.

Missy

Simply put, she came with the house. It was our first house and during our numerous visits prior to the purchase, there were glimpses of a skinny, gray stray. I was much too overwhelmed with the financial and uprooting challenges rapidly guiding our lives to give an animal (banned already due to my husband’s allergies) much thought. Persistence changed that as we were moving in.

It was summertime and the doors were open wide for furniture and other belongings making their way into our new home. The cat strutted in and out; entitlement in her sway. She was constantly underfoot and the balancing of boxes while shooing her out of the way became exasperating. To bend over and pick her up though was an affront and she would scurry right back outside to await her next victim.

After the move was complete and the doors kept shut, our confident stray would lie on the back porch or sit on the high brick out front as if to guard the entrances to our home. This was all very precious until meows and hisses screeched through the night as she courted and battled with other cats that dared cross her path.

Brian and I were still settling in when Barb, from across the street, came to welcome us to the neighborhood. She was such a nice lady and had loads of scoop to share! We already knew that the house had only one previous owner and we were aware that the purchase we made was part of an estate settlement. Barb filled us in with more detail.

She cleaned house for Margaret, a lone widow, and held their friendship dear. So dear that Margaret had shown Barb all of her secret money stashes. Just one year previously, Barb noticed an unusual quiet about this house from across the road. She meandered over and peered into the front window only to find poor Margaret dead on the living room floor.

Barb then proceeded to walk through the house showing us Margaret’s secret banking spots. Left with the impression that it may not have all been found, Brian and I (unbeknownst to each other) kept an eye open for any missed treasure over the duration of the next 10 years.

I inquired of Barb if she knew anything about the gray cat that’s been about; wondering now if it might have had a relationship with Margaret. Barb had not noticed the cat at all.

Ruth Hill from next door said “yes,” a gray stray had been visiting her house. Ruth would let her in, want to keep her, but to her dismay kitty could not be contained. She would eat Ruth’s food, then cry until she was let out.

Ruth was 67 years old. She had thinned black hair and beautiful black eyes. She was slender and had obviously been quite a ‘knock-out’ in her youth. She never had children. The love of her life, Arthur, passed away early in their marriage and no one could ever replace him.

I would see Ruth sun bathing out back through the rickety white picket fence. My neighbor would flaunt herself in halter tops and short shorts. I admired this woman’s grace and dignity uninhibited by a body pulling ever downward. This was uncannily similar to her abode with its missing shingles, peeling paint, and crumbling chimney.

Even in this condition though, beauty shined through. Roses - all varieties and colors hedged wildly around the perimeter allowing the house the same kind of aging charm as its owner.

Each night I pulled in the drive from work to find Ruth sunning or fussing over her yard. It quickly became a happy ritual to chat over the fence about each other’s day.

As the cooler weather approached, I could see that the cat was noticeably thinner than when we first arrived. She still wasn’t particularly friendly; more so, her cry was demanding as her big, yellow eyes dared me to ignore her.

Imploringly I began, “I can’t take it, Brian! I will not let this cat starve to death on our back porch! She won’t be allowed in the house…I promise! Just let me feed her and keep her outside.” I felt Brian’s eyes roll as I scampered to review the cupboards. I found a can of tuna fish and watched the famished animal devour it.

That done, happy days were filled with exploring all the nooks and crannies of the new house. I arranged and rearranged furniture and pictures until they suited our style. I loved our bedroom in the loft upstairs. What a luxury to have such a spacious room after living in an apartment with a bedroom barely a fit for a bed.

Though still aloof, kitty would now allow a few strokes to her back and to be held for the briefest of moments. I kept feeding her (but with the less expensive canned cat food). It wasn’t long before her hair took on a silky, healthy shine. She was put out every night and would still occasionally wander for 2 to 3 days without a sign.

The leaves were changing and a brisk wind was whipping outside as the daylight became more and more precious. We were pleased with the little white house and its awnings that helped to keep us cozy and warm regardless of the weather outside.

The cat had been gone several days again and the assumption was that she had decided to settle someplace more accommodating since we were still very strict about her evening shut out.

It was Brian who heard her; the softest, weakest “meow” at the door. As it opened, he called to me. Poor little kitty! She had been in a fight – maybe even hit by a car. She was mangy, dirty, glassy eyed and unable to use her front right paw. Thankfully, the vet was still open. We wrapped her in a towel and took her right in. Once cleaned up, the real damage was the broken leg. A splint was applied and she was returned to us with instructions to keep her inside. They would see her back in two weeks. $150 please.

We weren’t at all prepared with litter or a box but certainly relieved to see she was familiar with using them. With our pampering care, one might think she would warm up to us. Instead, she was just plain work; not appreciating a bit of it!

Each day though our now permanent stray grew stronger and moved about more daringly. We were happy to see that even though she could barely use it, she was trying not to drag her paw under which had been a concern. Progress was slow yet sure and within a few weeks, she regained full use of all fours.

Of course, we couldn’t just call her cat or kitty through all of this. We named her “Missy”. In addition, it didn’t seem right to force her back out into the dangerous night and Brian’s allergies seemed at bay, so she became ours; out during the day; safe and warm through the night.

She remained a cat with an edge; never too chummy, but we didn’t expect much else. We respected and enjoyed Missy just as she was for many happy years.

Written By Teri Lee
Events of 1988
Winter 2005

Elton John

We saw Elton John in concert last night. Eighteenth row. On the floor. Never have I been so close to a performer. My life has new breath!

We paid way too much for these tickets! I fretted quite a bit about that. I really couldn’t imagine getting our money out of it, but a friend made the choices with my blessing and we went through with the purchase.

We left my son at his cousin’s for the night. One of his rare overnights, which actually added to the value of evening. Because he has been adamant over the years that he would not spend the night anywhere but home, we were quite surprised at his matter of fact enthusiasm. (Not as surprised though as thrilled!)

We dropped him off and finally headed for the show. We were running late. I mentioned this to my husband. He asked me why I had hung around so long at my brother’s house. I barked back that it was very much in his capabilities to have pushed me along and said “Let’s go!” (Sounds like fun already, doesn’t it?)

We got into some horrible traffic and parked in one of the farthest lots. I was ready to move, but it took a couple minutes for my husband to transition. I tapped my toe until we finally got going. I glanced at my watch. We had seven minutes and I’m kicking myself that we spent all this money and I didn’t even care enough to try to be there for the opening act. I heard him. “I forgot the binoculars.” I didn’t look back. If he was going back for them, he was going alone. We kept up our pace.

We weaved through ten thousand or more cars. I walked faster. I was focused. There was nothing in between me and the arena except not enough time. I heard my husband behind me. “Hey, this is our neighbor’s car!” I’m wondering how he could ever pick out a neighbor’s car in this huge parking lot, let alone how he could do that and keep up! We continued onward; both, apparently, in our own little worlds.

We finally arrived and were pleasantly surprised to find the entrance very close to where our seats were. Even more pleasant was the pit stop to bathrooms with no lines of anxious fans. It’s a new arena and was obviously planned well.

We hurried to our seats. It was only a couple minutes past performance time. It was another 10 minutes before the show began. Lights! Elton! Music! Music that pounded through my soul. Music that brought tears to my eyes. I wept uncontrollably through the first piece, Funeral For a Friend. My mind took it all in and then took me through 1973…1983…1993…2001. I realized that Elton has been in me for close to 30 years. That each piece of music represented a time in my life. The tears that streaked my face throughout the concert were tears of lost innocence, of the times when life looked fresh and exciting and unbeatable. He went from high school graduation to marriage to our son’s birth ‘til today. He never had a direct affect on my life, on my choices; good or bad, but he was there marking all the phases of it with his songs and the statements he made in them and the dreams he held out to me. And I wondered where those dreams were now?

My husband held onto me during the concert through some of the songs. We hadn’t touched like that in such a long time. But, Elton swept away all the intimidations, all the frustrations, all the walls we had so carefully built one brick at a time. He took our souls and sent them on a journey through our lives and left us with an incredible positive energy that sent the crowd soaring….Rocket Man!

With all the animosty and negativity wiped from our minds, the trip back to the car was as man and wife. My soul was satiated with good, powerful dreams I had shared and realized with the man I love and I was at peace.

Thank you Elton John.

Written by Teri Lee
October, 2001

Rocky

We had discussed getting the movie a couple times but without follow through.

This had been a trying year for our family. Logan was 13 and in his first year of middle school. His mom was 48 and in her first acknowledged year of peri-menopause. There were times when Brian’s bug-eyed head turned to view first one of us and then the other; slowly and cautiously.

The school year ended in an academic slump and my son was doing all he could to please his parents while awaiting the dreaded report card to arrive in the mail. His basement ‘lounge’ was clean as a whistle. His demure smiles and loving concerns were sincerely disgusting! After six months of angry frustrations, he and mom were struggling to gain back some ground in their shaken relationship.

A couple of movies were purchased. “Grease” with John Travolta and that Australian sweetheart, Olivia Newton-John. Logan watched in amazement as John T. slicked back his hair and lifted his hip in dance! Not our best success in viewing entertainment together but certainly an opportunity for discussion.

The other movie was the original “Rocky” starring Sylvester Stallone. I must have been in my early 20’s when I first saw it. Now, some 25 years later, I was sewing and glancing up casually as the movie progressed. I had forgotten how this movie along with its powerful, pounding music had gripped the nation. My head lifted as I began to sense the testosterone level rise in the room. The boxers were being introduced into the ring. My son began to pace the floor excitedly; glued to the set, dancing back and forth, renewing the fever that made this movie an instant classic. Logan swung with Rocky, fell with Rocky, and rose to victory with Rocky!

When it was over, he could not contain himself. He had to talk about it. An excited, passionate admiration for this man who made good and beat the odds spewed from his lips and lit up his eyes. He didn’t want the feeling to end. Nor did I. This rebuilding of important family communication, seeing his mind expand and absorb was invigorating for us both. And before I knew it my own mind expanded and absorbed the fact that even though some of the old ground seemed worn and tried, this new gournd sure was fresh and exciting.

Written By Teri Lee
June, 2003

The Beach - A Son's Perspective

Thick Layers of Blood Sucking Insects

May, 2004 Written by L at Age 12

Every year since I was just a little boy, my father told me that we would go camping in the summer, and every year since I was just a little boy, we have stayed home during the summer. In the summer after my sixth grade year at Brookside Elementary, my dad told me that we were going to go to the Outer Banks of North Carolina for a camping trip.

Now for those of you who are not familiar with the Outer Banks, you must know that it is a beautiful place to look at from a distance. Let me attempt to describe it to you. Try to imagine living in a gigantic oven right next to the largest pool of water on the planet. You’re extremely thirsty and all you want to do is drink some of that water; but, you can’t because if you do, you’ll end up getting a large mouthful of salt. Now think about going inside your small tent (which is even hotter than outside) and being attacked by thousands of mosquitoes because one of the camp members never closed the tent flap.

Of course, when my dad told me we were going to the Outer Banks, I just kinda shrugged it off. Why would this year be any different than last year? I asked myself. After a while though, my mom started to get excited about going. “Oh, you’ll love it,” she told me. “Me and your dad used to go there all the time before you were born.”

Now I was starting to get excited. (I was told that it was a wonderful place to camp, I was not warned like you have been). So once everybody was packed and ready to go, we left home and headed out to North Carolina.

Part of camping is the trip to the campground, and lord forbid you fly to your destination! Oh, no my friends, you have to drive there. So now we have a 12 year old who’s just starting to rebel against his parents stuffed in the back seat of a Toyota Rav 4 being forced to listen to an Avril Lavigne CD over and over again. (I now have the ability to sing along with every song on her CD Let Go). As you can imagine this was not fun especially for ten straight hours.

Once we got there, it was pretty fun. The first thing we did was hit the beach. We had brought along a couple boogie boards so it was pretty hard not to have fun. So far we were having a great time until night came. I had heard stories of thick swarms of ravaging mosquitoes on the beach; but I had disregarded them. When we got back to our tent, we found that we had forgotten to close the flap. What we found inside was absolutely horrendous. The ceiling of the tent was lined with a thick layer of bloodsucking insects. It took us over an hour to completely rid the tent of the little beasts.

The next morning I decided I was going to go for an early stroll across the beach. I had no problem getting there because the beach was right behind the campsite. It was getting back that I had some problems with. There is a rule that you should follow when going to the beach. Always pick out a landmark to help you find your way back home. I did this. For my landmark I picked a sign that read

No Trucks On

Beach

Under Penalty of Law

It wasn’t until I had walked for about twenty minutes that I realized there was a sign that read

No Trucks On

Beach

Under Penalty of Law

about every twenty feet or so. So I ran back down the beach until I came to a place that looked like where I had come from. I walked over the hills that I was sure would lead me to my campsite. Well, instead of a campsite, I found myself in a field of odd looking flowers. I started to cross the field hoping it would lead me to some place of familiarity. Once I was half through, the field of flowers had grown so thick that I could not avoid stepping on them. After stepping on them, I really wished I hadn’t. They turned out to be small cacti.

So I pushed on down the field of cacti until I came to an outhouse. Not any outhouse; my camp’s outhouse. I started to leap for joy until I landed on another cactus, which pretty much just ruined the moment. I had finally made it back to the camp for another long night of mosquito killing.

The next day we went home. My parents were sad to leave but I was leaping (carefully) for joy.

To this day I refuse to do anything with my parents.

The Beach - A Mother's Perspective

I’m at the Oregon Inlet beach with my son, Logan, on the Outer Banks, North Carolina. He is surf fishing for the first time while I contemplate drawing the ocean. I’ve decided the waves are much too busy for my untrained eye-hand coordination to capture.

B brought me here about 18 years ago when we first met. Fresh love walked up and down the beach with us, romped in the sun with us, explored the Outer Banks with us. We camped a lot back then; weekends, holidays, vacations. We have scrapbooks and pictures of campsites with fishing tackle laid about. We jokingly titled our Oregon Inlet trips in B’s honor as Daniel Boone Goes to the Beach. It’s hard to believe that this is  Logan’s first camping trip with us at age 12-1/2.

As we walked the beach for the first time yesterday, we were looking for shells. (Okay, I was looking for shells.) Logan was loving the waves and merely biding time with me until he could swim and body surf again. As I picked up broken bits and pieces and an occasional half clam shell still in tact, there was a soft rap at my brain; some recollection trying to hone in. Yes, it was from before..when B and I walked the beaches picking up shells. All aspects of life together was special then; every encounter, every moment, every touch. Magic was all around us and in us. B and I walked through the waves day and night holding hands, talking about everything and nothing. And in the midst of all this magic was this feeling that the ocean held within it a most enchanted gift especially for me. My mind conjured up visions of mermaids and huge, beautiful conch shells. I was sure they would appear if I just looked at the right time and place. My eyes searched while my feet dredged the sand looking for a sign, a fleeting glimpse. Nothing ever came to light, but I never gave up hope. I knew they were there and when we left Oregon Inlet, that knowledge seemed to be enough.

So now I’m walking the beach again trying to recapture the essence of this feeling when “Mom! Mom! I saw a fish crawl out of the sand and run into the ocean!” and it hit me like a powerful wave. Out loud I laughed and asked for details. Inwardly, my body shook, my mind exploded and my eyes rapidly blinked back giant tears. There was no recapturing necessary. This was the right time and the right place to understand that reminiscent hint of my most enchanted gift.

Written by Teri Lee
Summer 2002