Blog Archives

What Does the Morning Sunrise Say to You?

4/30/2019

The sun is ready to rise on North Carolina's Alligator River. Time to wake up, sailors.

The morning sunrise. What a glorious time of day it is. I've been an early riser most of my life, starting when my rural-born mother would be brewing coffee and frying bacon early and the combined aromas were something anyone would wake up for. Then later, when I served for nearly a decade on active duty in the military, the timing of getting up was locked in for life. And while I know many of you probably miss most sunrises due to sleeping later, there is nothing to compare to the beauty of an awakening day as all of nature comes alive as the sun warms the earth.

As I was working in the barn in the early morning mist today, I thought about all of the sunrises I experienced in many different places in my life. They started, of course, in my hometown of Newport News on Virginia's Hampton Roads. I remember awakening to see weak rays of light start shining through the abundant Chinese elms that lined our park-centered street, enhanced by foghorns blowing on ships in harbor heralding their arrival or departure or their anchorage in the low mist on the water. On some occasions, we might walk up to the nearby harbor and watch as the giant fiery orb rose over Fortress Monroe and the Chamberlin Hotel, bringing life and action to the busy Port of Hampton Roads. It was inspiring.

In the summers, I will never forget the beautiful Atlantic sunrises at Nags Head. I often slept on our enclosed oceanfront porch below our huge storm picture window. There is no way I could sleep even if I wanted to as the sun shone brightly as it come over the protective dune. More often than not, however, I was already up and either sitting on the seaside small dunes or down by the water watching the seagulls come alive just before the sun came up, starting out on their never ending quest for food to keep them flying. Those sunrises were beautiful even when the sun couldn't penetrate the clouds, but on a partly cloudy day it was amazing to watch as the sun turned the clouds from gray to purple then pink before changing to orange and yellow as it rose out of the sea rose. And, of course, a beautiful red sunrise meant that stormy weather would soon be on the way.

In college, if the weather wasn't freezing, we'd often roll our beds out on the screened porch where the sunrise over the gray desert mountains was breathtaking. Then later, in Army training, it was beautiful even while we were marching through the pine barrens and sandy soil of New Jersey to the rifle range, turning the dust clouds into colorful formations as the sun shone through the piney woods.

I've moved seventeen times in my life and no matter where I have lived, I always looked forward to the sunrise. And today, living on a rural homestead in the Sunshine State, I still marvel at the sunrise. So what does it mean to me? Well, in addition to being a reference point for all of the places I've lived and stages of life I've experienced, it gives me hope. After the end of a long and dark night, the sun gives us light and it does in a way that is particularly beautiful from the outset. It tells us that a magnanimous God has control of all things in life on this earth. If we are smart, we'll praise Him for the beauty and please Him for giving us this beautiful source of light which also is a major element for life. The majesty of it all is that He has given it to us because He loves us and wants us to live in His image.

So, what does the sunrise say to you? Take the time to think about it and formulate what it means to your life. It should result in a positive impact on your life since beautiful things do that. Get up and watch it, the meaning will come to you if you just take the time to witness it not just take it for granted. Have a blessed day.

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"For the Beauty of the Earth"

4/29/2019

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Beautiful old country church in the country by photographer Chad Heggen.

For the beauty of the earth, For the beauty of the skies,
For the love which from our birth over and around us lies,
Lord of all, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.
- From the hymn of the same name

One of my most loyal readers sent me this picture and as soon as i looked at it I knew I had to use it for a blog. The words of the beautiful hymn used as the title for this blog with the first verse shown above just sprang to mind because small, old country churches are one of my most favorite things to see when I drive around the rural area where I live. And beautiful hymns and beautiful churches just open my heart to the the Spirit of the Lord whenever I see beautiful pictures of here music of faith. My mind starts going in quick motion as I try to imagine the history behind a small, old country church like this one. What could the story be and what is it trying to tell us?

The beautiful and simple elegance of the church speaks out that it has been around a long time and while we see a fairly modern headstone for a cemetery in the picture, I imagine there are many older ones there where the inscriptions have faded away. It's time frame is also given away by what appears to be an outhouse on its left under a tree. I would guess it was built sometime in the 1800's. It could be in the wide expanses of the Midwest farm belt, but also somewhere like Eastern North Carolina where large farming areas go as far as the eye can see. We can also tell that it looks very well taken care of and is likely still active to a small congregation of rural folks nearby. Many such churches can be seen throughout rural America today when you get off the interstates and take the smaller, slower roadways. They offer so much beautiful scenery, history and nostalgia, true Americana of this land when the population was smaller, people could deal with people based on their word and honor and love of God and country were a major goals in family upbringing.

I hope we never come to a time when we bulldoze over small rural places that offer so much charm, character and individualism, for as we grow, pretty old white clapboard churches and old country houses with big welcoming porches and large shade trees give way to modernistic, cookie cutter buildings with lots of glass, steel, and tightly closed structures that mark a landscape where almost everything looks just like the last place you visited. There's just something about open windows, fresh air, the sound of birds singing and children playing and laughing that brings heart and soul to our surroundings. And nothing was more wonderful than attending Sunday church in a facility where everyone knew each other and sang hymns out loud with great joy, then going home to one of those old fashioned and welcoming homes for a wonderful Sunday dinner, then often an afternoon nap before ending the day with a neighborhood game outside in the fresh air.

So, in a nutshell, this picture is of Americana with all the traditional values that used to be so prevalent among us and kept us in line but also happy as we grew up. Keep the Spirit alive by remembering these things. They are important for the soul.

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SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN: The Trials of King David

4/28/2019

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David paid a heavy price for his sin with Bathsheba

Then David confessed to Nathan, “I have sinned against the LORD .” Nathan replied, “Yes, but the LORD has forgiven you, and you won’t die for this sin. Nevertheless, because you have shown utter contempt for the word of the LORD by doing this, your child will die.” - 2 Samuel 12:13-14 (NLT)

Every child who grew up with Sunday school in the Christian faith knows the story of David and Goliath. The young but brave shepherd boy who tended sheep became a steady hand with a stone and slingshot and he helped Israel avoid a bloody battle by killing the mighty giant warrior of the Philistines, Goliath, with a single, perfectly aimed shot. His fame grew, God favored him in stature among others and decided he should be anointed King of Israel while King Saul was still sitting on the throne. Saul was previously anointed as King but he fell out of favor with God when he repeatedly didn't follow His advice and, despite many opportunities to change his ways, repeated the same mistakes of love of power and self-adulation again and again.

The Old Testament book of Second Samuel tells a grand story of David. The first ten chapters cover his rise in favor due to his leadership and bravery in battle advancing God's wishes to see Israel as the favored nation of God. But David had two problems which caused him to sin and make major mistakes, and the final fourteen chapters of Second Samuel chronicle his errors in his ways. What were they? Well, while he was a great leader and consolidated the two portions of Israel, Judah in the South and Israel in the North, he was a bad parent. He never instilled the love of God and the willingness to sacrifice for Him in his sons. And he was also a sinner when it came to lust of a woman who he should have left alone. When he spotted the beautiful but married Bathsheba bathing from his veranda, he inquired about her and summoned her to him where he committed adultery and impregnated her quickly. What's more, Bathsheba was the wife of his best soldier at arms, Uriah the Hittite, and he attempted to cover his covetous ways by bringing his warrior home from battle, offering him a break from the horrors of war and a night with his wife. David was sure that this would keep his secret, for Uriah would assume he was the father when the child was born.

David's scheme didn't work, however, for Uriah, ever the duty-bound soldier instead slept outside the palace gates with the guards, unwilling to enjoy the comforts of home while his men were camped outside the gates of the enemy they were fighting. And it was then that David became treacherous, sending word to Joab his general to put Uriah in the most dangerous place in battle near the enemy walls and, upon retreat, leave him and his men stranded. Uriah was killed in this situation and David was complicit in his death. And while God, who had anointed him as the King, forgave him for his transgressions, He told him he would be punished for his evil ways. First, the child born of the illicit behavior died of a sudden disease which sprang up and second, David's own sons turned against him, with Absalom fomenting insurrection within the Israelites against his father, who had to flee Jerusalem for his life when the Army of the tribes of Israel marched forward against David.

So, what is the message that this sends to us? Actually it's a very simple one. When God blesses us, we are to use those blessings in a way that are pleasing to Him and that means putting him first in our lives. David's lust for another man's wife and his involvement in what amounted to murder to remove that man so that the wife could become his own was an act like spitting in God's face. And his inattention to his own family, children of many different mothers which likely caused a disjointed family anyway, resulted in his own flesh and blood lacking love and respect for him. Unlike his bravery and devotion that he displayed for his nation, it was woefully lacking with his children and the result speaks for itself. What an amazing story Second Samuel unfolds and what a wonderful lesson it teaches all of us. And that is the reason why God allowed the action to unfold as it did and if we follow His words of wisdom throughout, it will make us stronger and more devout in our willingness to serve Him as our Lord.

Dear Lord, We thank you for the wonderful story of David, both the good and the bad, which should be a wonderful example to us of why we need to live our lives for you. Help us to always remember what it means and to live our faith accordingly. In Jesus' name, Amen.

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Days 4-6 of It Was "The Long Road Back" Via a Central Carolina Stopover

4/26/2019

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Working replica of the CSS Albemarle ironclad, docked on the Roanoke River in Plymouth, NC

The last morning I would awaken on the Outer Banks dawned on Thursday, April 18th and I took my final early morning walk on the beach. I then had a pre-travel breakfast and departed toward Roanoke Island, using the beach road to get one last look at the old family cottage, the remnants of Jockey's Ridge and the crowded beachfront area near Whalebone which used to be wide open and vacant. Crossing the Roanoke Sound, I took a ride through Manteo to see just how much the town changed and then set out across the Croatan Sound on U.S. 64. It was a beautiful, but windy morning as I traversed the Alligator Wildlife Refuge, looking as it has for centuries. As I crossed the Alligator River and said goodbye to Dare County, my next stop would be the small river town of Plymouth. I wanted to see the replica of the Confederate ironclad CSS Albemarle which was docked there and made mention of in my most recent book, "The Long Road Back." It was in Plymouth where, during the Battle of Plymouth, my great-grandfather John Allen Etheridge was wounded, then sent home to recuperate before later being sent to the front lines during the Siege of Petersburg and was captured and spent the rest of the Civil War at the dreaded Point Lookout, Maryland POW Camp.

Plymouth was the second traditional small Southern town after leaving Dare County. On the way there I drove through Columbia to get a feel for another town that was used in my book but I knew I had to see the replica ironclad in Plymouth. It was easy to find, following a direct roadway into the traditional small downtown that brought back memories of Manteo in the old days. And I was glad to see that rather than tearing down and replacing the buildings, they have been fixed up and it looked great. Who needs all the concrete and glass when you can have a touch of Americana right in your local backyard? The same was found with many of the old white clapboard houses with inviting front porches. Many, just like a lot of the farmhouses on the open road, were given new siding, roofing and other touch ups and memories of the 1950s surfaced in my head.

Right at the end of the downtown area was the local museum, the repository for the ironclad replica of the CSS Albemarle, tied up on a pier at the dock on the fast-moving Roanoke River. I thought back about how it must have been to operate the craft under very hot conditions and cramped quarters as well as what the battle for the city must have been like back in the spring of 1864. I was pleased to see how North Carolina has restored and maintained so many sites from those Civil War days. It's about heritage, not hate and it is history. Whether you like it or not, learning about how things really were are the best way to learn from the past and not repeat the same mistakes. Sadly, many today don't seem to care.

Leaving Plymouth and driving toward Rocky Mount, all was well until a large tractor trailer truck pulling an oversized trailer carrying sand or dirt for construction had flipped on its side, blocking traffic for quite a period of time. It was while waiting and listening to the radio that l learned that the next morning would likely bring a major weather risk for massive thunder boomers and possible tornadoes. Going to visit my sister in the Research Triangle area for the afternoon and one night, I realized that I was headed right into the heart of the danger zone. I hadn't seen her in a number of years and I knew I needed to do that, so I kept on trucking, arriving at her house in the mid-afternoon.

I was hungry after eating nothing since breakfast, so the two of us opted for an early dinner at a place I always like, Cracker Barrel. She enjoys it as well since it is one place you can count on to maintain its quality everywhere. Then we went back home and I enjoyed the beautiful blossoms in her back yard. The azaleas were in full bloom and it almost looked like a public garden with all of the colors, the birds singing and the pines whistling in the breeze. It was a hot afternoon and the sky had a strange milky color, an omen of what would be coming. We just talked and talked with the TV on mute, showing the area weather with updates in captions. The storm likelihood was growing, so I called home and my Charyl suggested I wait until Saturday morning to travel. She said the same weather pattern would be in Florida, so that decided it. The last thing I wanted to do was find myself stuck in traffic on I-95 with a twister approaching. Worse still was the likelihood of heavy winds flipping a tractor trailer with its high profile to straight line winds while weaving down the highway. That settled it, I decided to stay another day.

Friday morning dawned with an eerie sky, a kind of milky green which is common when severe storms are expected. The air was still in the morning and the clouds began to thicken. Checking the weather maps on the computer there was a curved line forming from Western North Carolina to the Gulf of Mexico off the coast of Florida which was the leading edge of the storm. As the line moved slowly eastward it showed darker colors meaning more moisture and turbulence. We got through the morning okay but in early afternoon, the winds began to gust and squall like showers began to grow. I knew my wife was at work in Florida so I decided when the leading front passed my home area, I would call my neighbor back home. As the more dangerous looking part of the front passed on the screen, I called him and he told me they had several strong gusts and a short burst of rain but it had quickly calmed down. That reduced my worry about the home front but joining my sister in front of the TV, the red blips signalling rotation in the clouds began popping up all over the area. It was a nerve wracking period until about six p.m. when we finally got the all clear. At last check some seventeen twisters touched down with the big pines causing some significant damage to homes and parked cars. At the time no one had been killed but I believe there was one casualty, a young boy killed when a tree fell on his home. I was thankful that no twisters came within three miles of our location but felt sorry for those not so fortunate. But there was something amazing that happened to take my mind off the storm.

To my surprise, my sister came into the room with an envelope full of pictures. Some were of me as a boy and others were of my father and mother at varying times of their lives. I always wondered where they were, for I remember seeing them in my childhood days but I thought they were all lost. Mom had sent me some pictures before she died but I had no pictures of her and I told my sister months earlier on the phone about that. So, she went through those that she had and gave me many which I will now reproduce and return them to her. Those pictures are so important to me and now I have them and feel very blessed. It was the icing on the cake of my whirlwind trip back to Nags Head and my past. And the extra day with my sister gave us the time to discuss so many things about our childhood and bounce our memories off one another to determine who was most accurate. I think it ended in a draw.

On Saturday morning I got a head start on a busy traffic day on I-95. The weather was cool, breezy and filled with sunshine, a much better option than I would have found the day previous. I was amazed at the speed that people drive while tailgating and it's a wonder that many more aren't killed than statistics show from highway fatalities. But my fortune held up, for we were only slowed a couple of times, never to a complete stop, all the way to Florida and I was tired and glad to get home. The two big dogs, Val and Sal, were waiting at the gate and my dear wife ran out as well. I know she loves me and was glad to see me but I also know that she was glad to have her animal caretaker back in town. Oh, the life I lead as the oldest two-legged resident of our landlocked Ark. It's truly a great place to be and a wonderful place to return after my visit to the land of my youth. I'll work on my sciatica, however, before I do that much driving again.

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Day 3 of It was "The Long Road Back." The Book Signing and More

4/25/2019

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My readers came in small groups, spread out over the entire afternoon.

PART 3 IN MY SERIES ON MY RETURN TO NAGS HEAD AND THE OUTER BANKS

Wednesday, April 17th dawned as another beautiful day and, like clockwork, I was on the beach with my camera at the ready for another fantastic sunrise. I never get tired of watching the sun rise over the Atlantic for each one is slightly different from others. It might be due to sea conditions, more or less clouds in the sky or even the addition of birds flying out to sea, but they are all beautiful and they bring back fine memories of my days of youth on that unique and fragile shore. I stretched out the early morning hours by taking a walk and enjoying the flight of the birds, vying for whatever scrumptious morsel they might find in the water below with their keen eyes.

Next, I enjoyed a hearty breakfast after working up an appetite in the briny sea air, then got my things together for the afternoon book signing, for I knew when I left this morning I wouldn't be back to the hotel until after the gathering. I headed north, deciding to check out what Duck and that general area looked like now. All I can say is wow! The quaint little town that I visited not long after the Great Ash Wednesday Storm of 1962, a tiny place with a few duck carvers and a shop or two was now a boom town. It no longer carried the charm that unique small villages have but now resembled so many other tourist spots up and down the coast. I had to keep reminding myself that this is now and not what I remembered but I had to admit that was difficult to swallow. I guess I'm just getting too old and set in my ways.

And talking about change, I even rode down to the approach to the Wright Memorial Bridge and it looked like a different world. All of the pines and live oak trees that made a forest along the road from Currituck Sound to the oceanfront was built up with shopping centers and much more where there had been beautiful trees. And as I returned to the point where we used to look down at the sea and smell the salt air it was now a beach city, crowded with heavy traffic even in April. Somehow the joy that overcame me as a boy as I smelled the salt air for the first time each season while trying to keep our Laddie, the family Collie shepherd, from hogging the window was lessened. The luster was gone but again, that was a long time ago.

Just after noon I walked into Muse Originals OBX and introduced myself to the shop owner and hostess for the afternoon, Ami Cannon Hill. What a quaint and beautiful little shop she has in the old historic Kitty Hawk Fire Station. Ami is in the picture above, on the left side looking over at me and probably being blinded by my chrome dome. She and her family were so gracious and helpful, things couldn't have been better and I am very thankful.

Those wishing to meet me and either get the books already in their possession signed or buying one started trickling in around one in the afternoon. It wasn't a big crowd but there was a steady flow spread out until after three and I just talked from my heart and answered questions that they might have. I'll highlight a few who came since in many cases I felt like I already knew them from my Author Page on Facebook. Traveling the longest distance for the signing was Wendy Rose Boice and Gary Gaunt, both from my native Virginia. Wendy lives in Front Royal (I believe that's correct) and Gary in Warrenton. The two of them work together on the Lovin' the OBX page on Facebook and clearly love the place and my old stories as well. Also coming early on was Penny Mingee Crawford and her husband from my hometown of Newport News. They are also beach lovers and frequent the Outer Banks often and I was honored to have someone from the old hometown make the trip. I also met for the first time my cousin by marriage, Fay Beasley, who lives on the Banks and is the granddaughter of that wonderful couple who were right next door to our cottage, Sherman and Evelyn Culpepper. While I didn't know Fay in my youth since she was considerably younger, she brought some pictures of her grandparents to see if I recognized them and yes, I did, and I believe I teared up a little. Belinda Miller, an artist in her own right who paints Outer Banks motifs on glass and is an avid fishing enthusiast, stopped by on her way to Ocracoke. Lynn Wagner stopped by on her way (I believe) to Ocracoke as well as did Bill Hinkle and his son from Manteo. Bill is an excellent photographer and I love his work. And I can't leave out Carolyn Riggs and her husband from Camden County who really got me laughing with what she said when we met. She reminded me of my story in "Summers at Old Nags Head" about my mother's prowess as a point guard for Manteo High. Back in those days in the late 1920s, the girls played basketball outside on a court lined with oyster shells and Mom said she always came home with torn up knees after playing Camden. It seems the had a very strong and big girl on that team who, when the referee wasn't looking, would throw Mom down in the shells if she was guarding too well. Carolyn wanted me to know that the folks in Camden don't routinely act that way and we had a good chuckle together. I was also pleased the Bobbie Murray, the lady who bought the Culpepper and graciously let me park and visit my old stomping ground was there with her business partners, Barry and Emily Bourne from Richmond, another wonderful couple. And there were others who came throughout the afternoon but those mentioned are highlighted since they just stuck out as we talked.

At the end of the day, I was tired but I had one more important thing I wanted to do. My Aunt Sylvia's grandson, Bobby Culpepper, who she raised from an early age was still living on the beach and we got together that evening for a nice visit. The last time I saw him previously was at her funeral at the Nags Head Baptist Church in 1991. Bobby was a young man then, fifteen years my junior, but when we met we recognized each other, hugged and spent the next couple of hours updating each other on our comings and goings. It was a great way to end a long day, the last full day I would spend at Nags Head.

Tomorrow I will close out the saga by covering the trip home over the next three days for things happened that forced my plans to change but, as I think you will see, the changes resulted in a most positive result. I'll see you again tomorrow right here as we close out my living version of "The Long Road Back." I just thought using my book title made sense for this series of blogs. Now go have a marvelous day and be blessed.

Both books displayed here are available in both paperback and e-book here: https://www.amazon.com/James-Dick/e/B00HFCMOVO (just copy and paste to your browser)

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Day 2 of It Was "The Long Road Back" and More: A Special Day

4/24/2019

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The cottage was sound but oh, what a difference in the entire area.

PART TWO IN A SERIES ABOUT MY RETURN TO NAGS HEAD AND THE OUTER BANKS.

Tuesday, April 16th dawned beautiful but crisp. I awoke refreshed after a good night's sleep following the long drive up from Florida, put on shorts and a sweatshirt and headed down to the ocean in the pre-dawn light to savor the sunrise as it rose from the deep blue Atlantic. It was one of my favorite times as a child and standing there as the horizon began to lighten preparatory to the sun rising, the memories of the old days were flooding into the forefront. About twenty other people staying in the hotel were there with cameras as well and the calm sea and the sound of seagulls starting their daily sustenance search filled the skies.

After a great breakfast, I walked on the beach, walked up the Wright Memorial to take some more pictures looking down on the beach, stopped at a few tourist shops to find a few gifts to take home, then headed down to the Pelican Cottages (the former home and cottages owned by that wonderful man so kind to me as a boy, Sherman Culpepper and his wife, Evelyn). Mrs. Culpepper sold the cottages to Bobbie Murray in 1989 before moving to Chapel Hill to live with her daughter.

As I drove in and parked at the foot of the oceanfront cottage, Bobbie walked up to me and we climbed the walkway together to the covered seating area at the top of the rise. She was very gracious and I enjoyed the view of the ocean and the briny air which became apparent at the top of our climb. She asked me a few questions about the good old days and I gave her all the knowledge on those subjects I had. I presented her with an autographed copy of "Summers at Old Nags Head" for her kindness to me and then I walked around taking pictures. Looking down at my old family cottage from up high, it looked very much like it did many years earlier except for the valley like location of the cottage. I could see that one could not see the ocean from the porch nor get the wonderful breezes from sea which would blow by up high. All access to the beach requires walking on a wooden walkway, the dunes must not be walked upon. So, while the cottage was on the oceanfront, you couldn't see the ocean, smell it or receive the breeze directly and it was probably twenty degrees warmer than up the dune and over and down to the beach. I tried to visualize what that would mean during the hottest summer months. Frankly, the ambiance was ruined and the crowded nature of properties nearby, plus their size, would have not been pleasing to a boy the age I was in the 1950's. But, then again, boys today can't experience what I did so I suppose it means they would never have my expectations of what a beach should be like.

I also took pictures of buildings across the beach road, including the former home of my Aunt Sylvia and Uncle Hal which had been restored and looks very much like I remember as a boy. And the cottages that were called the Dunbar Cottages as a boy next to her former home were also still there with their same physical appearance, yet remodeled and up-to-date and maintained in the old style of the 1940s and '50s in the immediate area was as good as anywhere in Nags Head. Somehow the pastels and modernity just don't have the classic look of the heavy wood shingles of old. And the presence of a few of the traditional high chimney homes of old added a luster as well.

Pulling out the driveway and turning south, I immediately spotted the old Snowbird, a place where in my childhood I consumed many a milkshake or ice cream cone after walking barefoot the short distance to the shop. Uncle Hal used to laugh at us for eating what he called "blowed up foam," and we shook her head and laughed with him. But compared to Aunt Sylvia's exceedingly rich home churned ice cream, especially her specialty peach, he was probably right. It didn't matter, however, for we loved the soft serve variety and it was especially good if we dropped by after climbing Jockey's Ridge and now Jockey's Ridge would be my next stop as I relived a part of my past.

Today, however, you can't walk there from the beach since the traffic is heavy and no one would let you walk across their property to get there. In the old days it was wide open and you could walk through the the road almost anywhere. There is, however, a parking lot at the now state park, but something just seems strange about driving to the dunes when we walked there several times a week. Maybe that's one of the reasons today so many of our children are obese. Could it be too much smart phone and not enough exercise?

Regardless, as I got out of the car in the parking lot that was now adjacent to a live oak forest in front of the dunes, I couldn't believe it. Even from that location in the old days it was a flatland of scrub growth where the dunes stood up as three giants, but the front two looked small compared to that large dune at the back that we called Jockey's Ridge. First I saw the flight school for hang gliders and now they are launched from a dune that is quite small compared to the past. Of course, it is obvious the sand has flattened out dramatically with many small dunes that in some ways resemble desert canyons in the Great Southwest. I made the climb to where the hang gliders were launched, taking pictures from that vantage point toward the ocean, then walking to the west to take photos of the Roanoke Sound. In the old days you could see all the cottages up and down the beach road but no longer. And the rear dune used to be like a nearly two hundred foot cliff on the sound facing side, but no longer that as well. It used to take about twenty minutes to huff and puff your way back up from the bottom since your feet slid down nearly as much as you advanced with each step in the soft sand. The area is still pretty, but it has lost its charisma with its shrinkage, and I think the inability of sand to move above as in old since so much of it is now locked by macadam, building foundations and concrete and grass has resulted in nature largely giving up on those dunes. And another classic landmark continues to bit the dust.

Tired when I finished, I drove further south, made a brief stop to honor my Great-Granddad Peter at Bodie Island Light, then drove out on the causeway just to view to Roanoke Sound. It told me that one thing remains always constant. When I could actually see and stand by the water, I knew that the power of water is always waiting for its moment and that will undoubtedly come again. I only hope that all of those new residents realize what can happen to their sandbar, for when the weather hits with the perfect storm nature will always be the winner.

I finished my day with a walk on the beach near my lodging. It was chilly but invigorating and with a hooded sweatshirt I was quite comfortable. I walked barefoot in the cold water and just thought about how lucky I was as a boy to experience the beach as it was and I always think was meant to be. That's just my view and I admit it is not for everyone. But the spirit of the Outer Bankers was developed in those days of yore and many a young man became captive of the love of the sea, be it as a fisherman, a Coast Guardsman or a naturalist supreme. That spirit captured many, including me, and I was reminded that once you have the blood of an Outer Banker flowing through your veins, it never lets your heart go. So, I headed back to my lodging, reviewed my notes and things for the next day, and I would go to sleep contemplating my book review and signing session which would come on that day. And I was proud that I had written those two books that have been published as I planned for even more. It was another wonderful day of remembrance of some of the best days of my life.

Remnants of what was a massive and very tall dune system, now flattened and spread out. Just not the same.

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It Was "The Long Road Back" and More

4/23/2019

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Glad to see that sign but still a long way to go.

FIRST IN A SERIES OF BLOGS ABOUT MY TRAVEL BACK TO THE OUTER BANKS AND RETURN. DAY ONE: THE TRIP UP AND THE ARRIVAL.

At 4:30 in the morning of Monday, April 15th, I bid farewell to my wife in North Florida and began "The Long Road Back" to the place of my youth, Nags Head on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I was excited but also a little bit pensive, both due to the length of the day's drive and the concern about what I might find there. It had, after all, been twenty-eight years since my last visit and I knew what it looked like today from pictures, but I also knew that the in person experience would likely be much more dramatic.

Once through Jacksonville, I made good time, getting to see the sunrise to the east over the East Georgia wetlands that approached the state's golden isles. It was crisp, clear and beautiful but I knew I had to keep my eyes on the road. The traffic on I-95 is always busy, but what I noticed most of all was the lack of good driving sense by so many drivers. I decided to put the cruise control on at 72 mph and just cruise and when someone ran up my tail pipe acting as if I was supposed to evaporate, I merely chugged on with the flasher on, letting them know how foolishly they were driving. I know that sounds just like the older man that I am but, honestly, one cannot stop when doing 90 riding the leading car's bumper.

By the time I reached the North Carolina line, I began to feel like I was home yet I knew I was really only about half way there. Finally approaching Rocky Mount, I saw the sign to go east on US Highway 64 to the Cape Hatteras National Seashore. I began to feel like I was getting close but I knew I still had almost 200 miles to go. Once past Rocky Mount and Tarboro on US 64 East, the look of the old days of Carolina farming surfaced and I felt like I was home. The road bypassed the heart of both Columbia and Plymouth, two towns of old featured in "The Long Road Back" and I made a note of planning to stop in Plymouth on the way home. I was intrigued to find they had a reproduction ironclad in the town park on the Roanoke River and would see it on the return trip. Just east of Plymouth the road soon turned to two lanes, nice and wide however, and it wasn't long before I approached the Alligator River.

As I crossed that broad river, the Albemarle was right next to me on the north, and what there is of East Lake came up. East Lake was the home in the old days of the bootleg whiskey boys and was always quite familiar to the old Outer Bankers when they wanted a nip during Prohibition. The road was through the swampy refuge with no shoulder and nowhere to stop and I was amazed when an oversized SUV came roaring up on my bumper as if to say I should run off the road to accommodate the fool. Nope, I put on my emergency flasher and maintained cruise control at 3 mph over the speed limit and finally he went past, roaring off to the horizon at probably 90 mph. About three minutes later, a North Carolina State Trooper came into the rear view mirror, passed me at warp speed and ten miles down the road I came upon him and the SUV which was stuck in the soft side of the road. I couldn't help but chuckle as the officer was reading him the riot act while calling for a tow. There was no way that man was driving out of the rut.

Passing Mann's Harbor and coming to the new Virginia Dare Bridge across the Croatan Sound, I could see Wanchese, my mother's hometown, on the south end of Roanoke Island and it still looked similar from afar to the way it had been. The northern area was developed but not by an eyesore, just pleasant looking and mostly single story homes along the sound. Further on, however, when I passed the intersection where a left turn goes to Manteo and a right to Wanchese, all recognition to my left front was impossible. The Pirates Cove project completely eliminated the natural pristine nature of the sound shore to the north while the Wanchese direction remained timeless.

When the shock really hit me, however, was on the Washington Baum Bridge as I looked toward what was Whalebone. Getting closer, I couldn't believe the massive development jammed so tightly together on both the beach and bypass roads headed north. Baby carriages and bikes were being pushed and ridden on a walkway area right on top of the roadway and the ambiance of Nags Head was clearly gone. Not only that, but you couldn't see the sea, hear the sea or smell the brine. There was no breeze and it was hot despite the fact that the beachfront was windy and six-two degrees. Frankly, not even Florida destroys the beachfront areas to the same degree and I wondered to myself what will happen in that location if they ever get another Ash Wednesday Storm like the one in 1962. As sure as the sun comes up another such storm will ultimately happen and the destruction and tragedy it will bring will be catastrophic. I must say that I shed a tear as I headed north toward my beach lodging in Kill Devil Hills.

Continuing north I was shocked to see the remains of Jockey's Ridge, only a semblance of itself and now spread out. I promised myself I would come back the next day and walk what is left of those dunes. I saw the family cottage, still looking much as it did and the Culpepper cottages restored next door. They are now the Pelican Cottages, owned by Bobbie Murray with the Bourne's, Barry and Emily, as investors from Richmond and I was graciously invited to come there and park to take pictures the next day. I would look forward to that with gusto.

Reaching the old Orville and Wilbur Wright which is now a Wyndham Hotels property, I checked in and soon was on the beach. It was chilly and I wore a sweat shirt but I did wear shorts and took off my shoes and walked in the ocean. And I thought to myself that no matter what man does to the sandbars that are the Outer Banks, he can't conquer the Atlantic. It was choppy and timeless, just like I remember and after the long drive it felt wonderful on my bare feet.

I got something to eat and came back and turned in early. I was exhausted after fighting the highway warriors for nearly twelve hours and over 700 miles. I called my wife to tell her I wasn't a casualty and turned in so that I could awaken early on Tuesday to walk the beach and take pictures of the sunrise the next day. As I lay there in the dark thinking about my trip up and how I felt, it was a mixture of both joy and sadness that filled my head and heart. It was joy in making the trip back to see what things were like and update myself on the old beach. The sadness came from seeing the place so overbuilt with all of the problems that I knew that had and would continue to be faced with storm, insufficient infrastructure, crime and too many people jammed up on a small island. But then I realized that it was the way of the modern world and life changes and it made me smile. Why? Well, I smiled because I realized how fortunate I was to grow up at the time I did and experience the glory of a wild and open beach where we were footloose and fancy free. And it's why I write today about it as it was back then, hoping to pass on to those who will never have the joys I experienced on a somewhat isolated above water sandbar in the middle of the deep blue sea. I also knew that my next two days would be busy ones and that I must get to sleep and I indeed slept like a baby. We'll continue the journey tomorrow when I write about returning to the very spot where I spent so many days and nights many years ago. Oh, how the memories will flow.

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RESURRECTION SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN: OH, YES, HE LIVES!

4/21/2019

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Jesus shows himself to be alive outside the tomb.

Well, I made it back to Florida just in time for this special Sunday Morning Coming Down finds us on the most special day in Christendom, Resurrection Sunday, and we celebrate with joy that He has risen from the dead and is indeed very much alive. Here's the wonderful story of the event that changed the world.

So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them. “Greetings,” he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”
- Matthew 28:8-10

When Mary, Mary Magdalene and the other women came to the tomb with spices in the early morning of Resurrection Day, they were surprised to find the stone rolled away from the entrance. Entering the tomb and finding it empty, they were startled when an angel dressed in white told them Jesus was gone. He walked out of the tomb earlier on that morning. They were filled with great anticipation, but retained some skepticism which remained until they came upon Jesus and they ran to Him and fell at his feet with tears of joy.

Matthew's Gospel varies considerably from the others, but each has within it the same basic points, the ones that really count. After all, word of the day was based verbally and it would certainly be passed somewhat differently as it made the rounds. But the common elements of the return of Jesus, his being seen by others, and his meeting with His disciples are so important that they were not missed by any of the renditions. All four Gospels share a common purpose since they were written by men endowed with faith and the ability to discern. And the most important thing to remember is that they all say He returned from the dead and is alive.

To me personally, the reality of His death and resurrection, the consistency of those points in all of the Gospels, and the fact that He was seen and identified by so many others plays such a great part in giving us the ability to believe by faith that Jesus is Lord. And then, before leaving this world to go to heaven above, He made the promise to leave something behind to help us stay the course and see the Way. It was delivered directly to mankind in the form of the Holy Spirit, the Third Person of God, who helps strengthen our resolve and live as the Savior asked.

So, on this special Sunday which we celebrate as Easter, we Christians should really look at it as Resurrection Day. It is the day that Jesus changed the world by opening humanity to salvation and eternal life. We all need to take time to worship and praise Him for the gift that he offers. He's already forgiven us, having done so the moment he died on the Cross. If we accept His offer and accept real life, we will gain true freedom as God intended, for we will be on the road to freedom from sin and by believing in Him by faith and faith alone, we will be accepting a seat at His Father's table above with Jesus and Our Father for eternity.

Jesus Christ is risen today. Hallelujah! He lives!

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SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN: A Very Simple Entry Into Jerusalem

4/14/2019

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A very simple entry for the King of Kings

The next day, the news that Jesus was on the way to Jerusalem swept through the city. A large crowd of Passover visitors took palm branches and went down the road to meet him. They shouted, “Praise God! Blessings on the one who comes in the name of the LORD ! Hail to the King of Israel!” - John 12:13 (ESV)

On that bright Sunday morning so many years ago, Jesus mounted the donkey colt in the little town of Bethany at the top of the Mount of Olives for the two mile trip into Jerusalem. The crowds were gathering and approaching as the news of his arrival had preceded him. The King of Kings, approaching the appointed hour when he would die a most horrible death, chose a lowly donkey as his means of travel. And instead of fine and rich carpeting for his path, he rode into the City of God on a bed of palm fronds, a fitting symbol for this simple man destined to change the world, not by the power of man made government but by the word of God.

His entry was cheered by thousands, yet the High Priest and his minions watched carefully, threatened by his very presence and plotting in earnest to destroy him when the opportunity came. That would come on Wednesday when Judas Escariot would betray him for a mere thirty sheckels of silver. How amazing that God chose to write the script to the Greatest Story Ever Told in such a way, ever mindful that His Son, Jesus Christ, would exemplify simplicity in life, truth and virtue in word and deed, and ultimately leave behind after his death to come the greatest gift that humankind could ever be given: the gift of forgiveness and the opportunity for eternal life.

As we enter another Holy Week with all of the trials and tribulations which culminate in victory on Easter Sunday, remember what was done for us. That Palm Sunday he visited the Temple, just to see the blasphemy that was taking place in God's House. The next day he would shake up the money changers as he turned over their tables and addressed their ungodly actions in a place of God. On the next day he would teach the Elders who were truly amazed at how a simple carpenter could be so full of knowledge. They couldn't stump Him, and then the next day, Judas would betray Him and start the evil flowing that would culminate in His arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane on Thursday night following the Last Supper. Friday came the pain, suffering and torment that led up to His slow and agonizing death in the mid-afternoon. But at the moment of death on that Good Friday, each of us, past, present and future were and are forgiven of our sins. To accept this wonderful gift, all we need to do is believe in Him by faith. What a wonderful miracle this Man-God has provided for us. And on Resurrection Day mere days later, the proof of who He was and what He was sent to do became Clear, because HE LIVES. Hallelujah!

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So the "Old Place" is Calling and Here I Come, Nags Head

4/12/2019

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So, once Palm Sunday is over, I will spend most of Holy Week back in North Carolina. Monday thru Thursday morning will be on the Outer Banks and Thursday afternoon will find me in the central portion of the state visiting my big sister. It will be a whirlwind trip but it will be the first time back to my second home state in a while and the first time to the Outer Banks in 28 years. To say that my thoughts are racing is only a slight exaggeration, excited to be going but also questioning what I expect to see. But I know that life is always changing and after all, when I was a boy growing up in summers on that beach I never could imagine what it would be like to start getting old. Well, I'm finding out and it is a mixed blessing. The good is that the experiences I've had helped me to grow, hopefully both in stature and in faith, but the bad side involves those pesky ailments that catch up with us and just don't want to let go.

What will I do while I am there? Well, like my boyhood days I know that once I arrive at my lodging destination and check in, I will be out to the beach. I want to smell the briny air, feel the cool ocean air and luxuriate in the beauty of the sea. Regardless of the changes through development or architectural change, no one can change the sea. It is beautiful and can be a very difficult taskmaster, but always it retains its majesty and power. I will walk it morning early and late afternoon and think back as the memories of my past flow. I might shed a tear but it will not be of sadness but of remembrance.

On Tuesday, I am blessed to have been invited to walk on the land where I grew up. The owner of the property next door to our family cottage where a wonderful family and friend lived graciously has offered me the chance to see how it looks today. I am grateful and will take many pictures and, again, the memories of the past will flood my mind as I picture my mother in the kitchen in late afternoon, preparing a great meal, my father floating for hours in the ocean until he was as red as a lobster and we kids setting out down the beach to climb Jockey's Ridge, always a fun adventure. And there will be more, much more. Then it's off toward the south to Bodie Island Light to honor my great-grandfather Peter, the long time lighthouse keeper, then a trip back north to the Wright Memorial where my grandmother as a young woman met the Wright brothers the year before their famous flight. History and memories will join together and will be locked in as an update to my memory bank.

Wednesday, I will meet the one cousin that I remember who is still alive. We'll update each other on our lives and share some memories. It will be a joyful time and long overdue, then off to Kitty Hawk, where I will give my presentation on those wonderful days on the Outer Banks. I'll bring both of my books and hopefully meet a lot of people and sell a few books while chatting with others among us who might have some stories as well. I'm very appreciative of Ami Cannon Hill, owner and proprietor of Muse Originals OBX in Kitty Hawk for hosting the event and offering my books in her establishment.

When Thursday comes, I will take an early walk and start my slow trek back to the Piedmont section of the Old North State, stopping on Roanoke Island on the way out to see how Wanchese and Manteo looks in a more modern time. And after arriving to see my dear sister, we'll have dinner together, chat and exchange the latest news and I'll head back to Florida on Good Friday morning. It will be a short but good visit on my whirlwind return to my roots and arriving back in Florida I am sure I will be exhausted but happy that night as I share my week with my dear wife. Come Saturday I'll be back at doing the things I love to do down here. I'll continue to write blogs, stories and books and care for our land-locked Ark of animals.

After I ponder things for a few days, I'll write about it. Who knows, I might even make it into a short and free Kindle Book about the return of the old boy to Nags Head. We'll just have to see. Blessings to you all, friends, and have a most blessed Holy Week.

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What Does the Morning Sunrise Say to You?

"For the Beauty of the Earth"

SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN: The Trials of King David

Days 4-6 of It Was "The Long Road Back" Via a Central Carolina Stopover

Day 3 of It was "The Long Road Back." The Book Signing and More

Day 2 of It Was "The Long Road Back" and More: A Special Day

It Was "The Long Road Back" and More

RESURRECTION SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN: OH, YES, HE LIVES!

SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN: A Very Simple Entry Into Jerusalem

So the "Old Place" is Calling and Here I Come, Nags Head

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