David_Weatherly's Blog

They say timing is everything. The concept is more true than when it’s applied to catching the leaves at their peak color on the “ Blue Ridge Parkway.” For the past twenty

years, Roy Ackland and I have tried our best to get it right. We’ve come close many times, and a few times I think we actually nailed it. Yesterday was not one of those times. 

With a mountain forecast calling for a mixture of clouds and sun, we struck out early for the high country. By the time we were making our way up Highway 421’s steep grade, we noticed the mixture was way more clouds than sun. By the time we reached Boone, there was no sun. Experienced mountaineers know, weather in the mountains is subject to change, so we figured eventually the sun would nudge its way into the day. We didn’t know the sun had decided to take the day off.

On the Parkway we soon found ourselves driving deeper and deeper into fog so dense we could barley see past the hood of the car. As we crept along, the road’s yellow line was our only guide and the occasional break in that line would lead to a heart stopping, brake tapping reaction. After about an hour of white knuckled driving, and without the first second of video rolled in my camera, we began to think our trip was for nothing. We decided to head back to Blowing Rock for lunch and regroup. 

After lunch the weather appeared to be improving so we decided to give it another go. Conditions were still not ideal but we could finally see the kaleidoscope of color once hidden in the gray shroud of fog.  Yes timing is everything and as we found yesterday,  sometimes you just have to wait for it.

You can click here to see the story and a bonus clip riding on the Parkway.

 Below are some frame grabs from the video I shot.

If you ask most people to name the most famous American food, the answer will more than likely be the “Hot dog.”

The simplicity of a wiener, wrapped in a bun and smothered with our favorite condiments, makes it the ultimate in fast, convenient and tasty food. For this reason, hot dog stands, the purveyors of this epicurean delight, have become fixtures in the American landscape for well over a century. Every town has at least one such place, most have several. Each has its own take on what makes for a good dog. Some of these places have become local landmarks.

Over the years Roy Ackland and I have visited quite a few establishments that stake their reputations on their dogs. Quite often the variations in the food are slight. It’s the personality and character of the place and the people found there, that makes for a dining experience worth repeating.

What follows are a few samples of places we’ve visited. I hope you can use this as a resource for your own hot dog adventures. Feel free to add to the list. Send your dog ideas to david.weatherly@wghp.com. I can’t wait to hear from you. Keep watching this spot for updates.  

One of our earliest and most memorable hot dog stories is about a man name Jim Hunt.

Mr. Hunt served up his dogs topped with homemade chili and an extra helping of wit, from a small brick building in the Reeds community of Davidson County. For years,  stopping for a dog at “Mr. Jim’s,” was a must when we were in the vicinity. After he passed away, the place sat vacant for many years. Then some local fans, decided to reopen the place and keep his legacy alive.

 No sausage sojourn would be complete without a trip to “The Dog House,” on North Main Street in High Point. The story below was shot there many years ago, but it’s still the same today.

Winston-Salem residents have been very blessed. The city seems to have more than it’s share of good dog eateries. The most famous in that city has to be Pulliums. There is nothing aesthetically pleasing about Pulluims, neither inside or out. But a rich history of good food and friendly service keep customers coming back generation after generation.

Kermit’s is another favorite spot in the “Twin City.” Located near Bowman Gray Stadium, their claim to fame is a delicious deviation from the standard cheese dog. Check out the story below to see for yourself.

 The “Red Caboose,” in Winston-Salem, has to get the award for most interesting building. A real caboose serves as the kitchen and a boxcar gives diners a place to sit and enjoy hot dogs wrapped in buttered and toasted buns. Yum!

That reminds me, Greensboro has several great spots to visit too. In 1995, Roy and I visited one of the best known places, the aptly named Yum Yum’s.

You may have heard of the “Big Mac attack,” but folks in Burlington are prone to a similar malady called the “Zack attack.” McDonald’s could certainly learn a thing or two from Zack’s about what fast food is really all about.

Lexington is known for barbecue and even though many of the barbecue joints do sell hot dogs, when locals want a dog, they usually head to “Kearney’s Drive In.”  

 Most recently we visited a former alleyway in Salsibury that is home to one of my favorites.

Hap’s has a very simple menu, and whether you choose a dog or a burger, it’s the homemade chili that makes it special. Don’t expect to find a place to sit. There are no chairs. That’s OK though, as owner Greg Culp says, “You can eat more standing up.”

Doing a little research for this post, I found some interesting information about hot dog history at  http://www.factmonster.com/spot/hotdog1.html
. It’s amazing how such a simple sandwich has become a crucial component of our culinary culture.

 Please send me your pictures, and stories of your favorite hot dog stands. I’ll add them to the list and if we haven’t been there, we’ll give them a try. 

In 1982 I made my first visit “Down East.” My wife and I were on our honeymoon and we toured Carteret County, Harkers Island and Cape Lookout. In those days, few tourists ventured into these isolated spots, but if you did, you were greeted with curious grins and a thick island brogue. Surrounded by salt marsh, sound and sea, the hardy souls who inhabited these small spits of sand, had for centuries, scratched out a living, shopped, and even courted aboard the most viable form of transportation they had; a vessel many times made by their own hands.  Nowhere else in our state has the boat played a larger role.  

Look closely at the picture above and you'll see me riding with Roy in the original "Folkswagon," during a trip to Carteret County. Check out the one below of a much younger Roy from the same trip.

When Roy Ackland and I first started going down there in search of stories, it was hard to miss the distinctive smell of fresh sawn cedar as it mixed well with the salt filled breeze. The laughter of sea gulls was interrupted by the constant rapping of hammers.

Everywhere you looked were boats in every stage of construction. Some of these projects looked like the skeleton of a great prehistoric beast. Further along, they would begin to take shape, displaying the graceful lines so synonymous with the area. Each finished product was a tribute to the knowledge, hard work and artistry of its creator. This was truly the home of watercraft at its finest. 

Much has changed in the past twenty years. Tourism, development and the influence of outsiders have polluted the once isolated lifestyle with a more modern mainland mindset. The island accent has been so diluted it’s hardly recognizable.

Worst of all, the automobile has replaced the boat for most transportation needs. Few people make their living from the water now and thus gone is the demand for boats. Few even notice, the proud heritage of the waterman slowly sinking into the ocean of obscurity.

Jimmy Amspacher is a “Downeaster” through and through.

He grew up in Atlantic, the town not the body of water, and although he worked inland most of his life, a strong connection to the sea remains. Jimmy has always built boats, starting with the first one he ever owned. He learned the craft the same way those before for him did, by watching, listening and helping the island boat building legends as they plied their craft. Now he hopes to pass his knowledge along; maybe not necessarily to the next generation of islanders, but to anyone with an interest and appreciation for this watery link to the past.

 To do so, Jimmy Amspacher has built the "Great Marsh Boatworks" near his Marshallberg home.

Students can come, spend a week with him and leave with the basic knowledge of boat building, as he says, “the right way.” They’ll also take home a sea worthy craft to show for their efforts. The irony is, the same outside world that leaked in and displaced the local culture and custom, may be the very thing that keeps the art of boat building alive.

No, things will never be the same down east. The innocence and isolation are gone for good, but hopefully, through Jimmy’s efforts, a little bit of the boat building heritage can survive.  Maybe the echos of hammers will continue to rattle our eardrums and the smell of cedar, will tickle our noses, at least for a little while longer.

 Click here to see the "Roy's Folks" segment about Jimmy.

If you've been following the Vespa adventures of Brad Jones, AKA, "Scooter Man," then this next story will surely prove interesting. In fact, it was Brad who stumbled onto the man you're about to meet. While driving in High Point, he spotted him riding an usual looking contraption. Realizing the potential for a good story, he flagged him down to find out more.

Brad the passed the man's contact information on to Roy and me. We soon disovered his instincts about the story were even better than he could have imagined.

Peter Fonda he’s not, even though his gas tank is copied from the famous chopper in the movie “Easy Rider,” Charles Gurkin says he feels more like character from the old west as he tools around on what looks like one of “Harley Davidson’s” earliest attempts at two wheeled transportation.

With no mechanical expertise, he set out to build a bike that he could use to get some exercise without killing himself pulling the steeper hills around High Point. His first version used a battery powered electric motor, but the batteries just wouldn’t last long enough. Then he found a motor kit on “ebay,” salvaged several old bikes and got busy.

The finished product is a mechanical collage, cobbled together bits and pieces of whatever it took to make it work. It’s something straight from the mind of Rube Goldberg. While it may not be much to look at, the bike is a marvel of creativity and ingenuity. Best of all, it really works.  

Charles says his motorized bicycle get’s about 150mpg around town. That means even with today’s high gas prices, he can do a long way for just a few bucks. But saving gas isn’t really the best thing about his contraption. He says building and riding the contraption is the most fun he’s ever had. 

Charles Gurkin may be more like Peter Fonda than he thinks, discovering many of the ideals  from that famous movie. The freedom of the road on two wheels and “stickin’ it to the man,” as the Dennis Hopper character might say, by finding a way around the high price at the pump. As a fellow traveler on life’s highway,  I say ride on brother. Ride on…

To see the "Roy's Folks" segment about Charles Gurkin, click here.

To find out more about Brad "Scooter Man," Jones, click here.

If you have any comments or story ideas, please send them my way at david.weatherly@wghp.com. I would love to hear from you.

As you have already figured out from the title of this post, it’s cherry picking time in the mountains of southwest Virginia; more precisely, at the Levering Orchard.

The Levering family is celebrating a hundred years of living on and lovingly tending to their steep slab of land, located on the southeast facing slope of the Appalachian Mountains.

Frank Levering is the third generation of the family to work the orchard. His grandfather, Ralph Levering, settled here in 1908.

He and wife Clara were looking for a place to plant a few apple trees and start a family. Originally from Tennessee, Ralph made many trips to the east side of the divide, in search of just the right spot. He walked all the way from Knoxville to Asheville on one journey, without finding what he was looking for. Clara wanted something with a fifty mile view.  Not wanting to disappoint his wife, he took the train to Roanoke, Virginia and headed south, once again on foot. He found just the right spot, on the very edge of the state, overlooking the Piedmont of North Carolina. The place was perfect for an orchard. Thermals generated in the foothills rise up the slope, lessening the harshness of winter and giving a nice constant breeze in the summer. Best of all it had Clara’s view.

The orchard has been in continuous operation for the last hundred years.

When he was old enough, Sam Levering took over the place from his father, Ralph. Sam was no casual farmer. He had a degree in horticulture from Cornell University. Armed with great knowledge and an eagerness to try new things, he started adding other types of fruit trees. In 1972 he planted his first Cherry trees. Today you’ll find forty-four different varieties that are usually ready for the picking from June to July. About the time the cherries are gone, peaches come in season. Then it’s apple time.  

As I mentioned earlier, Frank Levering is the third Levering to tend the trees and raise a family here; although there was a time when it didn’t look like that would be the case. A talented writer, Frank left the farm after college to seek his fame and fortune in Hollywood. Like most young artists, he did what ever it took to pay the bills, including a stint as a cap driver. Eventually he made a name for himself and found success, writing a script for horror movie called “Parasite.” It would be the first movie for a young actress named Demi Moore.  The bright lights and the big city were no match for the strong tug Frank felt from his Virginia mountain roots. In the 1980’s he returned to the farm and could never imagine leaving again. When you visit the orchard, you’ll understand.

Find out more about the orchard and picking hours by visiting their web site, www.leveringorchard.com

Most of us have a squirrel or two around our home. But I doubt many folks have one like Gary Evers. A friend brought Rudy, as he’s now known, to Gary’s tree filled, Guilford County home, several months ago. At the time the little squirrel was barely old enough to nibble on a nut. Rather than just toss him out in the wild, the Evers family cared and nurtured the critter, bringing him into the house for safety every night until they were confident he could fend for himself. 

While inside, he made himself right at home, nesting among some fake flora atop a curio cabinet. Gary also says Rudy liked to sit on the arm of the recliner and watch NASCAR. I bet he’s a Kyle Busch fan. Get it “bush?” Anyway, the whole family got quite attached to the fuzzy tailed rodent and vice versa.

He lives outside now, but each day Gary calls him down from his giant oak tree for a snack and a little petting. He wonders what his neighbors must think as he looks up into the canopy and yells for the squirrel. He says he feels a bit like Opie from “The Andy Griffith Show,” Episode 66. That’s the one where Opie almost gets a trip to the woodshed for telling a tall tale about a strange man who walks in the treetops. As it turned out, the man was real, although he was a telephone lineman and not the magical mystical character the boy had described. Like Opie, Gary says he's often wondered if anyone would believe that he’s actually calling a squirrel named “Rudy” down from a tree. Now thanks to our story he has the proof.

The old saying, “A picture is worth a thousand words,” is certainly true. Since we started the “Roy’s Folks” series twenty years ago, Roy Ackland and I have tried our best to let the pictures and accompanying sound, tell the story of the “Folks” we feature. Occasionally though, pictures, sound and even all the words in the world are not adequate to convey a major element of a story. The airwaves can be a powerful tool to transmit emotion. It’s the next best thing to “Being there,” when it comes to sight and sound. But when the other senses, touch, taste and smell are involved, all forms of media fall far short.

This short coming became quite evident on a recent trip to a little farm just north of Hillsboro.  Annie Baggett is a lavender farmer. Every year, in mid June, her fields explode with vibrant color, the sound of buzzing bees, and a heavenly fragrance that frustrates our story telling capabilities. If only there was such a thing as “Smellavision.”

The true beauty of the herb can not be gazed upon; it has to be absorbed. Touch it and your skin tingles. Breathe it, and your spirit is soothed. Tate it and you’ll discover a combination of the previous two. We found out about the tasting part when Annie gave us a sample of lavender ice cream. Wow!

I have to admit; there has been a time or two when Roy and I were glad you folks at home could not smell the smells surrounding us. We’re happy to spare you more unpleasant odors of farm life, or the aftermath of Roy’s late lunch of pintos and cornbread. Some things are better off left to the imagination for sure. But when it comes to stories like the lavender farm, I just wish there was some way to send you just a whiff. When you think about it, there is a strange irony at work here. Why is it, a TV signal can transmit pictures and sound over the air, but even if you're down wind of our tower, you'll never smell a thing? Go figure…  

You can get a sample of the lavender smell with products which she sells through her web site, www.sunshilelvenderfarm.com

Click here to see, hear but not smell the "Roy's Folks" segment.

Around here when we hear about horsepower and drafting, our minds naturally go to NASCAR. But real horse power and drafting existed long before the gasoline engine was even envisioned. For centuries man has tamed large powerful animals, harnessed their power and put it to use. Horses for example, were refined through careful breeding to produce giant living machines, capable of amazing strength. They came to be known as draft or draught horses, taken from an old Anglo-Saxon term that meant to pull or draw.

At one time, every farm of any size had some sort of draft animal, be it a horse, mule or ox. Horses were also used to haul freight, pull passengers and make deliveries. But, last century, tractors, trucks and heavy machinery took the place of once common critters and today seeing a pair of working horses is rare. Teams of four or more harnessed together are almost unheard of. Well almost.

 If you’re in the Walkertown area of Forsyth County you might see quite a few of them. Jeremy Hancock  is one of only a handful of people in the county with the skill and training to handle large teams of horses. That could also read, teams of large horses, and I’m mean large. Check out Roy with a pair of their shoes.

Jeremy is  the forth generation in his family to breed and train registered Percherons. His great-grandfather, Bill Sell,  started with a pair he purchased in 1938. As a child, he was inspired by the strength and ability of these ton plus giants, when he saw them at the Circus.

Percherons are still used on the farm to do some chores but now they are mainly hitched for competition. Jeremy trains his team five days a week and travels with his family all over the country, hooking as many as six horses to his fancy show wagon. He hopes one day to get a corporate sponsor, sort of like Budweiser and its Clydesdales, and be able to show off his horses fulltime.

Every year the family invites fellow Percheron lovers to their farm for a field day. This Saturday June, 7th, folks from several states will gather there to do a little showing off. The best part, it’s free and open to the public. The event is going on at 3024 Sell Road, Winston-Salem, it’s really just outside of Walkerton, on the very farm where the family got it’s start.

Watching these horses work is like getting a glimpse of our past. If gas prices keep going up, who knows,  it may even be back to the future for some real horse power.

Why did the chicken cross the road? How many times have we all heard that tired old line? What I really want to know is; who came up with the stupid question in the first place? But I digress…By now, we all know the answer, the chicken crossed the road to get to the other side, but he may have had good reason to go over there.

A little over a week ago, Fox8 reporter, Chad Tucker gave me a tip about a rooster that had been spotted hanging around the old Surry County courthouse in Dobson. It was one of those tips that begged to be checked out in person, so Roy and I headed that way. The stately old building covers a city block and is surrounded by ancient oaks and a lush green lawn. On our first lap around the place, that’s about all we saw. But after the long drive were not going to give up that easily. I wanted a closer look. As I pulled the car into one of the parallel parking spaces, something out of the ordinary caught my eye. There he was strutting his stuff, with brightly colored feathers shining in the sun and a blood red comb standing at attention. We had found the “Courthouse rooster.”

No one seems to have clue where he came from. He just showed up one day. Funny thing is, Roy and I have seen this before. In fact we’ve done several stories about roosters that have shown up and started hanging around places not typically frequented by chickens. I recall one at a gas station Madison, one at a car lot in Virginia, and another at neighborhood grocery in Mount Airy.  There have been others. As my mind did the “Chicken Reel” down memory lane, I remembered one of our most unusual and maybe my favorite foul stories, shot way back in 1991. Below is a photo taken the day we shot the story.

In it you see Perdue the chicken (yes I said Perdue) standing on my camera, with much younger versions of the “Roy’s Folks” team. I don’t want to give away too much about the story, just watch the clip below and you’ll see why it stands out.

 I don’t know what it is about chickens that spark our interest. Maybe it's "Walt Disney" or growing up with cartoons like Foghorn Leghorn. Whatever the reason, we always seem to find a good story to crow about when there is a chicken involved. Maybe that’s why he crossed the road…

CIick here to see the rooster story.

f you have any good chicken stories or any other ideas, please send them my way. You can write me at david.weatherly@foxtv.com

My dad, now in his eighties, is a happy person. The joy found deep in his heart, is usually displayed in an outward and audible manifestation. He’s always whistling. He’ll be busy doing something totally unaware of the hushed tones breathed between his lips. My wife and I often overhear him and smile at each other, without ever letting on. When he was growing up, in the day long before IPods, satellite radio, or even TV for that matter, many people whistled. It was a way to pass the time. You don’t find too many whistlers these days. For some reason, it seems to be a dying art. This all could change if one of “Roy’s Folks” has anything to do about it.

 Phyllis Heil is known as the “Whistling Woman.” An only daughter with four older brothers, she was destined to learn to do things, much to the chagrin of her mother, that were primarily the domain of men; things like whistling. Back in those days proper young ladies did not whistle. Phyllis said her mother told her, “A whistling woman and a crowing hen, always come to some bad end.” So far, the old saying has been quite the opposite for her.

For most of her life, she only whistled for her own enjoyment, then one day a friend was surprised by her puckered perfection and coaxed her into whistling in church. In 2003 another friend told her about the “International Whistlers Convention,” in Louisburg, North Carolina. That year she decided to go and check it out. The next year, she went back and competed, coming away with a couple of third place trophies. Phyllis was hooked.  She’s toured the state performing for audiences both small and large and  has been recognized as the “International Whistling Entertainer of the Year,” for the past three years. She was even on the “Tonight Show,” with Jay Leno.

Below you’ll find some clips of her doing her thing. Keep in mind, watching her on video or listening to recordings is no substitute for hearing her and seeing her in person.

Unlike my dad, she has a musical range, the envy of any opera star. But like my dad, the melody that proceeds from Phyllis’ lips, flows like water from the well of her soul; from her lips to God’s ears. 

Click here to watch the "Roy's Folks" segment about Phyllis.

Find out more on her web site, www.thewhistlingwoman.com

You may remember “The Breakfast Club,” a movie from the mid 1980’s. In it, a group of teenage, social misfits get to know each other while thrust together in early morning detention.  The movie offers quite a contrast to another “Breakfast Club,” Roy Ackland and I visited recently. It too is a product of the 80’s and it also brings a group of people from various social and ethnic backgrounds together. But that’s about as far as the similarities go.

In 1988, George Miller (seen below) and a handful of friends, all retirement age, started gathering on Tuesday mornings, to eat and play Bingo at the McDonalds on North Fayetteville Street in Asheboro. Twenty years later, members of the “McDonalds’s Tuesday Morning Breakfast Club,” still come for the food, fellowship and fun. Of course, the dollar menu and senior citizen discount may have some appeal.

Around 8:30AM on any given Tuesday, you’ll find sixty to seventy well seasoned citizens, sipping coffee and intently watching their cards as Ed Smith calls the Bingo numbers. Ed first attended in 1989 and has seen many club members come and go. By “go” I don’t mean take out… Over a hundred have passed on, but new ones are always joining the gathering. Somehow there always seems to be just the right number of seats available for the crowd. Although, I suspect the Mickie D’s in heaven is starting to get a bit crowded.

For many of these folks, especially the widows and widowers, the “Tuesday Morning Breakfast Club,” is the most fun they’ll have all week. And that’s what it’s all about. McDonalds has built an empire by combining food and fun. Every Tuesday, in Asheboro, you might say, the “Golden Arches” provides these golden agers with a whole new kind of “Happy Meal.”

Click here to watch the "Roy's Folks" segment.

With gas prices soaring, many of us are looking for vacation destinations a little closer to home. I’m talking “One tank trips.”  If that’s what you’re looking for, then I’ve got a place for you. It’s right up Highway 29 in Danville, Virginia and from anywhere in the Triad, a fill-up will be more than enough to get you there and back. And though this trip involves one tank of gas, it really involves dozens and dozens of another kind of tank; the military kind. 

The American Armored Foundation Tank Museum was founded in 1981 with the mission to collect, restore and preserve as many military tank and Calvary artifacts as possible. Today it boasts over 117 tanks and artillery pieces, weaponry and uniforms from all over the world. The museum is open year round, but once a year they put on a special event knows as the “Tank Extravaganza.” This gives them an excuse to take the normally stationary giant chunks of steel, out for a spin; usually over the top of a few cars. 

While they can’t fire the big tank guns, there are plenty of demonstrations involving automatic small arms, firing real bullets. The hottest weapon, and I mean hot, has to be the one fired by Charlie Hobson.

 Charlie is an expert on flame throwers. He is one of the few people in the world, who can, or will demonstrate these fiery fountains of death. The Tank Museum is also one of only a few places where you can see him do so.  

When he pulls the trigger, the devilish device erupts with a blast of sound and heat. Watching, you can’t help but gasp and step back, as a wave of hot air, like the draft from an open doorway to Hell. I check my eyebrows. I can’t imagine being on the receiving end of that thing. It’s no wonder our enemies feared it.   

 See for yourself this weekend, April 26th and 27th at the Tank Museum in Danville.

Click here to see our "Roy's Folks" segment.

Roy Ackland and I were only about five years into our journalistic journey producing the “Roy’s Folks” series, when one of those “Consultant” types, asked me the dumbest question imaginable. He said, “Aren’t you guys about to run out of people to feature?” We just laughed.

Our area is very blessed with way more than our share of interesting and talented people. If Roy and I had another twenty years, I don’t think we would even scratch the surface. Take Davidson County for example; I can’t even count the number of stories we’ve done there. Throw a rock in any direction there and you’ll likely hit someone whom we’ve either featured or who we should; Dempsey Essick, Greg Ferrell, Chip Holton, Phil Christman, Bob Timberlake, the list goes on, literally. Now, add another name, Mike Hesalbeck.

Mike Grew up in Davidson County and admits to the influence, area artists shed on his work. He’s a modern day version of a true renaissance man. He’s a musician who loves the outdoors, hunts, fishes, and paints pictures of all the things he loves. About four years ago he had the guts to quit his “day job” to pursue his art career.

Mike Helsabeck is just the latest example of Davidson County’s artistic wealth. He’s also a sample of the still untapped talent pool. Whether it’s artists, craftsmen or just good old characters, that county is chocked full. If we’re ever looking for a good story, we know more than one will await us there. Why is that? I don’t know. The same question could apply to why so many barbecue restaurants are there. Maybe the answer it similar too, who cares, let’s eat.

Click here to see our feature on Mike.

Museums are designed to preserve things for safe keeping. Whether art or artifacts, museums are usually places to give us access to the rare and unusual. Most of the time this would mean tangible items that can touched, or at least, seen. A little brick house in the Alamance County town of Haw River has such a collection, but it’s not the items you’ll find there that make it worth wile. The items are simply there as a reminder of the mindset that once existed. 

A visit to the Home Front Museum is like walking into a house sized time capsule from the 1940’s. There you’ll get more than a glimpse of everyday life during the tough times  when the world was at war. America sent most of its young men off to battle but everyone else didn’t just sit around waiting for victory.  Instead those left behind scrimped, scrounged and sacrificed. They pitched in to do whatever it took to insure the defeat of our enemies. It was not easy. The necessities of life were scarce, everything was rationed.  

Roy Ackland and I produced a story about this place. While there, I learned a lot about the

spirit of the people who really knew what it meant to support our troops. The toil and sweat back home went a long way to aid both directly and indirectly the war effort. There was a common mindset that defeat was not an option because defeat would mean an end to our way of life.

You can thank the propaganda of the day for keeping moral up here at home and abroad. The government and media outlets, newspapers, radio and movie newsreels worked together to prop up winning attitudes during those years. Was it fear or pride that kept everyone motivated? All this got me wondering if this could ever happen again.

Could America ever come together again as a nation to win a war; even if our lives depended on it? I would hope so but I doubt it. There was a small glimmer of this in the days just after 911, but since then we’ve lost sight of a common purpose. Instead, we divide up into sides and spew hate and vitriol toward anyone who disagrees. We argue about whether or not we should have gone to war in the first place. I’m still undecided about whether invading Iraq was the right thing to do, but what difference does that make now? We are there.  Now what? To be honest, I’m also not sure how I feel about our continued involvement. If there is a victory in this war what would it look like? Ready or not tough questions await us all. Anyway, the purpose of my writing is not to spur debate about the current situation. It’s more a chance to ponder a different time with a very different mindset.

The Home Front Museum caused me to wonder how different things might be going now

if the Iraq war had taken place during the 1940’s. Would we all be complaining about our country’s involvement and the price we were paying at home, or in the blind innocence of the day, would we be putting our noses to the grindstone, working toward a defeat of those who wish to take away all that we hold dear? 

You can visit the Home Front Museum for yourself. Call 336-684-1002 for a tour.

I’m sad to realize that the closest most people get to nature these days is by watching it on TV. In this busy high tech world, how many of us take the time to, as they say, “smell the roses?” Think about it; when was the last time you stopped and took a close look at the beauty around you? I mean real close.

Springtime here in the Piedmont is chocked full of color. Area yards display well manicured green lawns and a brilliant array of blooms. While all that might catch our eye, an equally vibrant show can be found beyond all the landscaping. In fact, landscaping and development may be destroying some of nature’s most beautiful offerings.

In the early 1960’s Emily H. Allen noticed something in the woods behind her house. It was a small wild orchid.

The chance encounter with the specimen eventually set her on a mission to collect and preserve rare and not so rare wild flowers. In the years since, she’s filled the woods behind her Winston-Salem home with around five hundred different species. Some are quite delicate and hard to spot like the blooms on wild ginger, below.

Others are quite bold in their display like this Trillium.

Some have comical names like “Dutchman’s Britches.” It’s easy to see where the name came from.

Still others look like they came straight from a Doctor Suess book.

A chorus of birds sing the songs of spring and accompany our walk through her back yard where we glimpse what the woodlands here can offer. Her collection has become quite a treasure. Realizing this a few years ago, Mrs. Allen and her family decided to donate an easement to the Piedmont Land Conservancy. The PLC would establish an endowment to forever maintain her collection and guarantee it’s enjoyment by future generations. It all started when she took the time to stop and take a closer look at the world around her. So when you log off that computer, turn off the TV and head out the door, stop and smell the roses, or at least give them more than a passing glance.

Click here to see the "Roy's Folks" segment about Emily Allen.