Blog Posts

POND TALES: THE CHICKEN AND THE FISH

8/6/2019

Big Bertha got a big surprise.

So I looked in the pond and what did I see? A big fat chicken just a lookin' back at me. Her look showed exasperation, she knew not what to do. So I picked her up and on the ground and got a soaking, too.

Living on a rural homestead with horses, dogs, cats and even free ranging chickens, I have an early morning routine that I follow to feed all the animals as they start another day. First up is my visit to the nearby fish pond where we have beautiful koi swimming around and frolicking under the waterfall. On this day, however, they were hunkered down on the far end of the pond, not swimming toward me as they usually do, knowing I always give them food. Something was definitely wrong, so I decided to look around carefully in the dim morning light, thinking perhaps a snake was in the water. Then I looked more closely by the side of the pond and there was Big Bertha, silently standing in the water and looking up at me. She is a big booty girl and had no way to climb out of the pond and with her wings doused with water, there was no way to fly. While she was calm and collected, she looked at me as if to ask if I would help her out of her predicament. So, I knelt down by the side of the pond and gently lifted her as her wings flapped wildly and soaked me to the bone.

Now safely on the ground, she shook her wings repeatedly, then went and rejoined her hen party and it looked as if she was telling her tale about the pond and the fish. She was fine and then just started scratching the ground as I gave them their morning chicken scratch. Next, going back to feed the fish, they didn't come my way, staying wary on the far side of the pond even after I sprinkled the fish food on the surface. I'm sure they were startled but they'll get over it and Shamu, the large black and yellow koi who is their leader will float still when I next visit, awaiting the meal that he and they missed this morning. Sometimes he even jumps high in the water like a killer whale, hence his name.

One of the great joys of living out here is being able to observe these creatures and the funny things they do. I might even try to imagine Miss Bertha doing the backstroke, but no, she definitely doesn't have the figure for it. She's no Esther Williams. And there's something else I noticed this morning and it's the subtle hint in the morning sky as the sun is about to clear the pine forest. Even though it's the heat of August, with the days gradually getting shorter the sky has a more golden tint these day, reminiscent of what to expect as fall closes in. It makes me think to myself: What a gift of beauty that changes regularly in this world created by God. Each day is slightly different from each before it and it shows that He is always working on things, each and every day.

Okay, Miss Bertha, lets not do that again or old Freddy will put you in your place for good. Watching on, old Freddy the Rooster nods his head and she knows exactly what he's up to next. Sorry, that's for mature audiences and not GP. Now everybody go have a good day.

0 Comments

IN "SUMMERS AT OLD NAGS HEAD," THIS WAS THE PLACE!

8/5/2019

1 Comment

Nags Head Casino )Outer Banks History Center, circa 1958)

As a boy during those wonderful "Summers at Old Nags Head" in the 1950's and '60's, no establishment on the beach was known better or drew more attention with stories and gossip than Ras Wescott's Casino. As a boy going with Mom to the grocery story two doors down (J.E. Harris' Grocery), I wondered what went on inside that massive (for its day) recreational facility where huge crowds would come to see and hear the big bands and all types of entertainment of note. If I asked her about it, the only thing I would be told is that I couldn't go there, it's for grownups.

The Casino's origination was for anything but a nighttime adult entertainment center, for it was built as a barracks for the road crews building the beach road and the Currituck (Wright Memorial) Bridge and the Baum Bridge to Manteo. That was a massive government works project job designed to make the Outer Banks accessible and it was the beginning of the development of the beach as a family vacation center. That work was carried out in the early 1930's time frame, but when the road and bridges were completed, the building lay dormant, but not for long. When Ras Wescott decided to turn it into a entertainment facility, he outfitted it with bowling lanes, pinball machine games, a watering hole and a grand dance hall which was upstairs with a beautiful floor that was waxed almost daily. It was an instant hit and it wasn't long before he was attracting people from all over North Carolina and Virginia looking for a good time on a Friday or Saturday night. In it's prime days from the late 1930's through the mid-1950's, a drive by the place on a summer weekend evening brought the sounds of band music beckoning from the open upstairs shutters. Young lovers of age would enjoy the bands and then often take a walk up Jockey's Ridge on a moonlit night for a romantic view of the beach and ocean below. Many and elopement ended at Nags Head and a celebration at the Casino. It was right at the foot of the dunes until the bypass road was built which separated them.

So, what did this mean to a young teenager who saw the place from the outside but wasn't allowed inside? Well, it made us think about sneaking in just to see what it was all about. After all, we enjoyed our evenings not far up the road at the Nags Head Recreation Center where the girls were our age and pretty and we all had a good time. But there is just something about trying to go inside a place where you are forbidden just to say you did it. And I had an older boy who influenced me in my eventual decision to try. He was a friend of my older brother who successfully made it in and out on several occasions, only to ultimately be caught and driven home to our cottage where he was visiting us and turned over to my mother who, well, let's just say, was visibly upset.

He was a master of getting into any place he wanted and in this instance he used a disguise. He could copy voices and accents and with his limited knowledge of French, he put himself in the costume of a French sailor and just walked in, authentically talking like he was speaking French to anyone who didn't have a good knowledge of the language. Finally, however, the off duty deputy after seeing him before had a light bulb go off in his head. Why would a French sailor, obviously in port in Norfolk, go all the way to Nags Head for some fun? It just didn't make sense and so, he was finally stopped, identified and put in the squad car for delivery to my mom. It was not a happy reunion when the poor fellow was delivered to Mom and she addressed him sternly and told him to think about it over night. I doubt that he got much sleep that night but thereafter there were no such problems. Why? Because back in those days children, not even a teenager trying to test his flight wings would dare talk back to an adult. It's just the way it was.

Fast forward a few years and at the beginning of the summer before my senior year in high school, Mom said we would be late going to the beach. I asked Mom if I could go with a friend early and, knowing who would be going with me, she said yes as long as we got there on our own but with no car for us to use. I reluctantly agreed and a few days later we departed from Newport News on the Greyhound, switched in Norfolk to Carolina Trailways which dropped us off on the beach road at our cottage in route to its destination, Manteo. My Uncle Hal dropped by and took us to get some groceries and he reminded me that Aunt Sylvia, one woman I loved and would never upset, would be over later.

After her visit, we were going to go the the Recreation Center but my friend, ever the one to stretch his luck, talked me into trying to get into the Casino. We both looked old for our age and got inside, but later, when up in the adult dance hall and dancing with some older girls, we were singled out by a bouncer and that same off duty deputy was summoned. When we got into the back of the car, he looked back at me and told me he knew who I was and he would take us home. For effect and to embarrass us, he left the overhead lights blinking and when we turned into the driveway, the next door neighbor who was almost like a father to me watched as we got out of the car. He said a word to the deputy on his way out and then approached. He gave me some wise advice and a break.

He smiled and said, "Son, I was young once and I know you fellows like to try out your wings. But remember when you do, it usually doesn't work out to well for you aren't ready yet. You didn't get in trouble but if you were there too long at your age you would have. Don't worry, I will not tell your mother or Sylvia, but let's not do it again."

All I could say was "yes, sir," and he was off and I realized the next morning that it hadn't been worth doing for what it might have caused later. But a few years later, during a summer when home from school, I did visit the Casino and of age and checked things out. It was fun but not as much fun as I thought and the bands and audience had changed. The bad storm in the spring of 1962 had damaged it severely and it never was the same after that. But it was the place to go for many back in those "Summers of Old Nags Head" and it was a right of passage to say you had gotten in, even if you did get caught being underage. I'll bet many who read this are now shaking their heads and chuckling,having done the same thing themselves. My mom always did say if you could live through the raising of teenagers, you would live a long life. Mom survived three of us and made it to ninety-one. Oh, the memories of those good old days.

Did we really need the Casino when we had this?

1 Comment

SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN: What Made So Many Walk Away?

8/4/2019

0 Comments

Why is he walking away?

I remember as a boy going to Sunday services with the family and finding the sanctuary packed. We didn't want to be late, for sitting on an uncomfortable chair in the aisle was the only alternative. Yet today, we see so many instances of churches not drawing many congregants although many others remain heavily attended. And statistics show most of the mainline churches are losing members in droves while, again, some of the new more evangelical groups, and the strict Bible preaching ones maintain healthy membership. So, what is the problem and how is it remedied?

Some of the problems noted today are easily remedied. Maybe congregants just need to act friendly to newcomers and welcome them warmly. Have you ever visited a church where on one stopped to tell you welcome or take the time to chat with you for a moment? What about the more staid and dignified, yet haughty church, where members have been sitting in the same pew for years and when unwittingly a stranger sits there, they get the look that says: that's my seat? It happens and it is easy to correct, but sometimes it take a person with a little gusto to bring it up in a church meeting.

But that kind of simple little situation is not what I'm really referring to for the real problem I see is a new attitude which is taught in many seminaries and endorsed by high church leaders which results in new ministers being taught to preach a new age Christianity, one which is not based on the Gospel but one which adds a lot of social justice without Jesus included in the justice. It's the same training that changes the meaning of the Ten Commandments and even the Sermon on the Mount by modifying the characterization of Jesus Himself. Often they happen slowly and are hardly noticed, then we suddenly become aware of what has taken place and many abhor. These are those times. The scripture and the Christ do not change, however, they are beyond change for they are part of, in the case of Jesus, and inspired by, in the case of the Gospel, God Himself. How many times have you heard a person of the cloth speak of the importance of social justice without including Jesus in the discussion? There is no social justice without Jesus, it merely becomes a point of usually argumentative conjecture which wants to hear no alternative to it. It has no place in the pulpit.

Remember how children challenge parents on their rules and requirements, trying to wear them down to exhaustion to the point where they give in? If the parents stick to their guns, the children ultimately stop whining and realize what their boundaries are. When the parents give in, the children keep moving the finish line until it ultimately makes them just plain spoiled and less able to do for themselves when they grow up. Well, the same basic situation applies to the church. When we allow the Word of God and the Life of Jesus to be recreated and watered down by today's loose standards, then there is no standard. The church becomes just another wishy-washy "if it feels good, do it" organization which condones almost everything. It is indeed a very slippery slope.

I think more often than not adults are looking to God as their Father, just like the children above were looking to their parents. They want to know the limits. They want someone to guide them to show them what is expected of them. When the church sticks to its guns, with love, patience and kindness, of course, they get that need fulfilled. When it doesn't, those who want everything free and open with no consequence stick around for they get what they want, but the church becomes something much different and something that offers little of value to society. The others, the ones who wanted rules to be guided by, look for another church and the membership numbers crumble. This is happening today in so many churches across the land, yet many leaders blind their eyes and keep pushing on to their own demise.

So, what am I trying to say. First, I'll use the words of a hymn to say it. The Church's one foundation is Jesus Christ our Lord. Jesus, the Son of God, came to earth to teach and preach His Father's Word and ultimately sacrificing Himself so that we members of mankind were forgiven for our sins. But that entails our accepting His offer by believing in Him by faith and living for Him in the way that God created us to live. It's not a difficult concept, but difficult for us to carry out, sinners that we are. But it does not give God's permission to alter His Law, the meaning of Christ's actions on this earth, in order to serve our own selfish wishes which are sinful. That must not change and if it does, well then the Church will no longer exist. I for one am proud to be a Bible-believing Christian. How about you?

0 Comments

GROWING UP IN OLD NEWPORT NEWS: The Boulevard Was Priceless

8/3/2019

2 Comments

A Stormy Day on the Boulevard

This morning I read an article which was posted about the good old days on the Lower Peninsula by the late Parke Rouse, a historian and wonderful nostalgic writer about Newport News, Hampton and surrounding areas in Tidewater Virginia and I can remember looking forward to his commentaries in the Daily Press. I tried to imagine what those days would be like and thought that one day writers like Mr. Rouse would inspire me to write nostalgic pieces about the old days when I got to the point where I would remember what could be considered old. Be it good or bad, it's where I find myself now and I also enjoy telling true stories about things I remember as a boy when times were simpler and less stressed.

Mr. Rouse's article was about that area known as The Boulevard, a piece of land only about six blocks wide which stretched from Peterson's Yacht Basin and the southern reaches of Salter's Creek in Newport News eastward along Twenty-fifth Street and Kecoughtan Road to LaSalle Avenue. The Hampton Roads marked the southern boundary and the area within was a wonderful place to grow up. There were very large houses, other nice houses and some small well kept ones as well, all on streets lined with large, shade giving trees and in the days of no air conditioning, it was generally quite comfortable excepting those days when the breeze was naught. Homes were built with large windows generally on all sides and the cross ventilation, plus the abundant shade made quite a difference from what we find today. Many had the huge attic exhaust fans that pulled the hot air out and away and it was a simple solution to what is today a very expensive problem.

The picture above shows Chesapeake Avenue, what was called by locals The Boulevard, hence the name for the area. Storms such as major nor'easters and hurricanes which passed through the area would turn the normally tranquil Hampton Roads into a living ocean and we kids enjoyed walking down to watch the action. Nearly every storm which came along flooded the section shown, adjacent to Peterson's Yacht Basin, but in really bad storms the harbor would rise over the entire roadway and into the front yards of the waterfront homes and up side streets for up to half a block. When it was over, you could tell how high it had been from the brown grass present that had previously been green. At those times, we boys loved to ride our bicycles along the seawall prior to the flooding of the storm. With the wind out of the east or northeast, we would head west, windbreakers held open and feet on the handle bars and sometimes reaching speeds where we were passing cars running parallel to us. Looking back at it today, it's truly a wonder that no one was seriously hurt but I don't ever recall such an accident. The only problem was when we reached the bend in the road that marked the rise over the Peterson's Yacht Basin bridge, we were going so fast that we were pushed all the way over to the other side in Stuart Gardens. Needless to say, it was a long walk back home against a forty-plus mile per hour sustained wind. What was worse is when we got home and found out that one of those drivers out there was a neighbor who informed our moms. But it didn't stop us from trying it again at another time.

I don't think there was a single street between LaSalle Avenue and Walnut Avenue (at Peterson's Yacht Basin) that we didn't explore on bikes in those days and all children living from Walnut to Pear Avenue (marking the city limit between Newport News and Hampton) attended Woodrow Wilson School, a drab gray three story schoolhouse built early in the twentieth century with one classroom for each grade, one through seven. It made for a close knit school and lots of individual attention which was great unless you had committed mischief either at school or in the surrounding neighborhood. If so, Miss Wheeler, the hard-nosed principal who we never knew loved us all dearly until we graduated from high school, would assign us to sit on her pink bench outside of her centrally located office where all would see us when they passed by. Talk about humiliation.

Back then, we swam in the Hampton Roads, paddled our canoe in the Hampton Roads and even fished in the Hampton Roads. Not a chance of that happening today, but it was a different time, a much less populated time, and the original Old City of Newport News located on only four square miles and with a population of about forty thousand was a great place to grow up. Everyone looked out for everyone else and lawsuits were seldom ever needed. Your word was sacred and disagreements were solved by a reasonable discussion around a kitchen table, except for the occasional bloody nose that came with being a boy in school. But the fights were never serious, adults were called Sir and Ma'am and no one would sass a teacher or a policeman. Those were special times and nowhere were they better than down on The Boulevard.

The picture below was where I lived from birth 1947 until graduation from high school in 1965. What a great house it was and what a wonderful neighborhood. I just wish young folks today could know the same joys we had from learning to make something out of nothing with imagination instead of requiring 24/7 electronic entertainment. I fear they are missing some of the truly finer things of life.

The family home circa 1952. Notice Laddie in the front yard, no leash laws.

2 Comments

Isn't it Way Past Time for Americans to Display the Spirit of America?

8/2/2019

0 Comments

St. John's Church, Richmond, Va, home of Patrick Henry's famous speech

As I slowly get older, it is hard for me to realize how much our nation has changed since my days as a boy. We used to say a prayer and recite the Pledge of Allegiance before singing America in the mornings at school. Growing up in Virginia, we even had a full year of just Virginia history in school, celebrating the proud heritage of the Old Dominion and her contributions to the cause of gaining our independence as a free and sovereign nation from Great Britain. Later, in high school we had to successfully pass a full year course in American Government to graduate. Today, however, everything has changed and efforts are underway to even destroy our very history and our national soul and replace it with an even more powerful government hellbent on even eliminating our Bill of Rights. Oh, it is never described that way, but that's what it is when you eliminate those very freedoms that were never created by government but were granted by God. And that's why I pose the question above this day, for never was a national display by citizens of the Spirit of America needed more than it is today.

The Spirit of America was the fervor and willingness to sacrifice their all to make this nation free. No better evidence is there of the scope of the Spirit of America than the famous "Give me Liberty or Give me Death" speech by Patrick Henry, delivered to the Second Virginia Convention meeting at St. John's Henrico Parish Church in Richmond on March 23, 1775. The church, now St. John's Episcopal has been beautifully restored as shown at the top of this blog. The speech was in support of a proposal Henry, a delegate to the Convention, gave to the Convention President, Peyton Randolph of Williamsburg. As was customary, Henry addressed the President, presenting the speech to support his proposal which had drawn fierce opposition. Henry was proposing the establishment of a colonial militia in each county for the defense of their homes in defiance of the King who had sent large forces to the colonies to quell any thought of rebellion. Open warfare was already a reality in Massachusetts and Henry wanted Virginia to be prepared. Virginia had sent a petition to the King and many in attendance wanted to wait and see, hence the strong position that Henry took in his speech.

I know most Americans today don't even remember the speech that we learned in school. Things such as this are not taught in schools anymore but they should be. They are history and based on what actually took place, not the drivel being taught in so many places saying America is the cause of all of the world's problems. Frankly, America has offered more good in the world than any nation and we are the only winner of wars that helped the losers rebuild and become self-sufficient again. So, when I say we need to bring back the Spirit of America, I say it in hopes that others will read these words and analyze them for just what they so eloquently proclaim. Yes, America had a great and challenging destiny and it was one which changed the world for the better but, like anything else, it can be lost. It's up to citizens of this still great land to bring the Spirit of America back and perhaps those words of Patrick Henry can inspire the courage and strength with the help of God for all of us to do so. His speech in its entirety is offered below and I hope readers might take the time to read it. To me it is very inspirational and it excites me to know what so many did for us. We need to remember that and live our lives in a way that would make God and those courageous men proud. We need to stand up for America instead of remaining silent while others spew their venom. And unless we get control of our own sovereign border, we will lose the very essence of our nation and its character. God bless America and may she ever be free. The speech follows. It comes from Henry's biographer, William Wirt of Maryland in 1808.

Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it.

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves, and the House? Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with these war-like preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation; the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask, gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us; they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves. Sir, we have done everything that could be done, to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending, if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us!

They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance, by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations; and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come.

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

0 Comments

August Brings the "Dog Days," But Then............

8/1/2019

0 Comments

Seriously, doesn't he look like a poster boy for the "Dog Days?"

AUGUST. The "Dog Days." Hot. Sticky. Too many bugs. No energy. Can't wait for them to end. That pretty much spells it out for most of us unless we are on vacation on a beautiful beach with sea breezes or maybe up in the mountains in the crisp morning air. Even that doesn't always help with all the changes to our landscape constantly on the march. But, suiting up to go to work when you are sweating even in the early morning is just not the cup of tea most of us enjoy. And, for East and Gulf Coast residents, the prospect of a hurricane coming with all the inconveniences and loss of power, sometimes for what seems like endless days, conjures up memories that we don't like to think about. Yet, despite all of that, on a bitter cold and dreary day in January some of us then yearn for the hot weather again because, let's face it, we are very fickle. We can change on a dime over anything that we see as being inconvenient. But whether it's too hot, too cold, too wet or too dry, perhaps we would be best served by admitting that we are largely responsible for where we find ourselves.

It really just boils down to this. When popular places attract huge numbers of people to locate there, we generate a course of action which strips nature's own ability to solve the problem or at least make it tolerable. And the last thing I want to be is negative, but when I think of the beauty that God has given us, it's pretty clear we have often made a big mess of it and I don't believe it comes anywhere near being responsible as God expected us when he gave us dominion over earth.

One need only look at some of the most popular places to live in these United States to see what happens over and over again. No place is more representative of some of the problems than the state of my residence, Florida. Here in the Sunshine State, as the overpopulation of South Florida continues to infringe on every square inch of undeveloped land, more and more continue to come and also to the less developed northern part of the state. Old Florida is disappearing with it, and as this happens water quality dwindles and the source of water finds itself under distress. Where shade from the sun tempered the sun somewhat in undeveloped and largely wetland areas, man continues to exert political pressure for new and massive roadways and development. The result is massive and often cookie cutter neighborhoods, devoid of trees and built so close together that it more closely resembles a ghetto than a nice place to live. And with it comes more of the same old, same old box stores, banks, gas stations, fast food establishments and small specialty stores, not to mention RV businesses and car lots. It won't be long before the only way you can take a raft ride down the Suwanee River will be at a theme park mock-up.

But it's not just Florida. Go north to North Carolina's Outer Banks. The once pristine shore is now a booming tourist trap with three to five story cottages jammed together with no way to see the ocean from a lower lever or catch a cooling ocean breeze or the soothing sounds of the breaking waves. Jockey's Ridge has now become a flattened out pancake and kids on the beach often spend more time playing with their smart phones as much as enjoying the natural surroundings. Thankfully some places have been preserved but if you haven't been there in recent years you will think you crossed the wrong bridge when you get there. Then there is the infrastructure, with no way to handle heavy water in the interior from beach overrides or rain, with a resulting toxic stew caused by stagnant water and made vile by sewer line breaks following large storms. So, community officials run piping from the interior to the ocean and dump the toxic water into the very body of water that is what is supposed to be the attraction for tourists. Meanwhile the over-development continues unabated until either total gridlock is achieved or nature finally decides to eliminate it with a catastrophe. Madness is alive and well in the management of the gasping islands.

But the granddaddy of them all in terms of mass overload problems is California and a land of feast or famine with droughts, floods, winds and fires of immense intensity now a routine situation. Heavily overbuilt canyon lands burn, then cause mudslides later and one or the other destroys many homes. Then they rebuild and repeat the cycle, never learning the lesson from nature. On top of that, state officials continue to violate both laws and common sense by welcoming everyone unfettered to their state with the result being homelessness, squalor camps even on some city streets, and disease running rampant from lack of sanitation or control of drugs. Again, madness on parade, this time on the West Coast, and it goes on and on in so many other places.

Will we ever learn? Now that I'm getting much older, I am beginning to doubt that we can and it might even be too late. I am more concerned, however, with what our Lord thinks and I can't believe this is what he intended for his earth. But, I'll just try to turn it all over to Him and pray that we as a society wake up. That is really the sum total of my plea today. Lord, let us wake up and live as you want us to, not as we decide when we don't consider our promises to exert proper dominion over the earth according to your will. We've done a very poor job.

0 Comments

SUMMERS AT OLD NAGS HEAD: The Joys of Cast Net Fishing

7/31/2019

0 Comments

Just like the old days: Cast Net Fishing. (Photo courtesy of Bill Hinkle)

Photographer Bill Hinkle of Manteo takes beautiful pictures of the Outer Banks. I began to appreciate his work on Facebook and his photography site about a year ago and when we met in person during my book signing at Kitty Hawk this past April, I realized we shared a great love for the more traditional aspects of this delicate inhabited sandbar region. When I saw this picture of a young man cast fishing in the edge of the surf, I knew it was the perfect topic for another post about those past "Summers at Old Nags Head."

I was about ten years old when I was introduced to the joys of cast fishing. It is, however, not something that is new but has been used by man for thousands of years, including by some of Jesus' strongest followers who fished the Sea of Galilee. The general technique has not changed much, but the equipment is now much better. The lines and the nets are stronger and can withstand the elements better and they are lighter, making the art of casting simpler. Yet it takes some practice to perfect and if you don't take the time to learn it, the nets will never open when you need them to do so.

I was taught at Nags Head by an older boy who spent the summers there in the mid-twentieth century as did I. He had been given a cast net and we would take turns practicing in the sand back from the beach, casting and retrieving and repeating those steps over and over. The first time we tried it in the ocean, we met only limited success since the nets didn't fully open. Finally, along came a local fisherman who showed us where we were leaving out a step by not first checking to make sure the nets had no kinks or twists. After that, bingo, it worked. It was somewhat similar to a golf swing in that your lower body stayed stationary with feet implanted in the sand while the twist of the upper torso and release of the net came in quick order. Once we learned it, we never forgot it and the reward was having to spend no more money on bait. Today, anyone who wants to learn can find good how to guides including videos on the internet to explain. I especially like an article by Chad Ferguson who shows how to cast in search of catfish. It's a technique he uses on a boat but it's quite similar to the method for oceanfront fishing. He even says there is no perfect technique, just whatever opens the net fully. Just remember to keep the loop at the end of the handline attached snugly to your wrist or when you make the throw, there goes the net, sinkers and all.

We would catch our bait, store it in a bucket full of salt water drawn from the sea which we kept in the outside shower at the cottage. That way, when we were ready to fish, be it surf casting or down at the pier. we were always set to go. Sometimes when we had a bumper crop we might even make a few spending bucks from tourists fishing who thought our bait looked better than what was being sold at the pier. I guess we were budding capitalists but didn't yet realize it.

So, as I look at the picture of that determined young lad hoping for a good catch of shiners or even small mullet run almost ashore by some blues, it makes me smile. I think the young fellow has learned something that I never forgot but which was ingrained in my psyche during those Nags Head summers. Sometimes the joys of life are found in the little things we do. They don't necessarily have to cost any money but they are good things to know and experience. I'm sure the young man will grow up realizing that as I've never forgotten. As for the beautiful work by Bill Hinkle, I offer another thank you for sharing another great photo that triggered some special memories once again. Memories are what my "Summers at Old Nags Head," remain all about as they are permanently etched in my soul.

0 Comments

That One True Friend We All Need, Even if We Don't Realize It

7/30/2019

1 Comment

Where do we look to find that true friend?

I used to have a younger friend who was quite close to me, I guess you could say that for a time I was his mentor. He was fearless, hard charging and never let anything get in his way, sometimes handled such that it needed to be tempered. He was probably the epitome of a good salesman. He rolled rejection off of his back like water off a duck and never took no for an answer. The result was that he was a high producer, yet sometimes too cocky, but he was still young. After I retired, I lost most contact with him, but he would call from time to time and then, as things go, he had bigger fish to catch.

I thought about that younger man occasionally, probably like an older brother might look at his younger sibling and wondered how he was doing and if he might have tempered his ways. Oh, I didn't worry about his success in the working world for that would surely come, but I worried about his inner being. Did he really understand that this world is just a training ground where we are supposed to gain wisdom and really understand what our purpose was for living this life? I would soon find out.

One Friday evening, I was watching television as I awaited my wife's return from her then night shift duties when my cell phone rang. I didn't realize that I still had that friend of mine still on my phone call listing, but when I picked up the phone, his name appeared. I smiled as I spoke telling him I was glad to hear from him. I was, however, somewhat surprised by his opening comments.

Right from the start he said, "I've been reading your blogs, Jim, what's all this religious stuff about? Come on, Man, why are you wasting your time on that God stuff?"

I must admit I was somewhat ruffled, but I merely said, "It's what I believe and I know that you, too, were raised in the church, so why does it concern you?"

He told me that he didn't think there was anything after this life, that he would live on his children. When I asked him if he thought it would mean a black void, he said he didn't know but it didn't matter, because he would feel nothing. It would be over.

We didn't talk long and that was the last time we spoke. I have seen his name on Facebook on a few occasions, once even wishing me well on my birthday. But I must admit, I do from time to time include him in my prayers as I hope he realizes the joy that I have in my heart as I contemplate life in the Kingdom above. And maybe, just maybe, he still on occasion might read my blog and I hope that he might do so today. And what I want comes in this closing, words that most of us know and will certainly recognize. I hope each of you will read these words for they tell us everything we need to know. Maybe he will come to that realization as well. Sometimes it just comes in our later life but I hope a sudden unexpected demise doesn't keep that from being possible for him, for we never know what might happen quickly. The answer is here in the words of Joseph Scriven when he wrote them in 1855.

What a Friend we have in Jesus, All our sins and griefs to bear!
What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer!
O what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer!

Have we trials and temptations? Is there trouble anywhere?
We should never be discouraged, Take it to the Lord in prayer.
Can we find a friend so faithful who will all our sorrows share?
Jesus knows our every weakness, Take it to the Lord in prayer.

Are we weak and heavy-laden, Cumbered with a load of care?
Precious Savior, still our refuge— Take it to the Lord in prayer;
Do thy friends, despise forsake thee? Take it to the Lord in prayer;
In His arms He’ll take and shield thee, Thou wilt find a solace there.

Take it to the Lord in prayer, folks, and you will get your answer. I can't prove it to you and I'm no genius, but it will. And the only way you can find out for yourself is to open yourself to Him and do it. Have a blessed day, everyone.

1 Comment

BE PREPARED: PRIME HURRICANE SEASON IS ALMOST HERE!

7/29/2019

0 Comments

The shoreline can readily be moved as water pummels sand.

In just a couple of days, August will be here and with it will come the steady ramping up of hurricane season. In the first part of the month, most newly developing storms start their journey quite close to the United States; they are not as disastrous but they also don't give much advance warning of their existence. In the latter two weeks, the monster storms that begin near the Cape Verde Islands off the African coast have thousands of miles of warm tropical waters to fuel a growing storm. Originating as a monsoon rain squall over tropical Africa, if the conditions are right, such a storm can be potentially deadly to all in its path. Storms of this are not unusual in late August, all of September and into early October. But, even then, remember that official hurricane season doesn't end until November thirtieth.

If the conditions don't generate an El Nino pattern out of the warm Pacific, the trade winds from the east will predominate and push the growing storm over the source of fuel, very warm tropical Atlantic water. Without an El Nino, there is often no winds strong enough from the west to sheer the top off the storm and weaken it. With the major winds from the east and the center of the storm sucking up huge volumes of water, an updraft is created and the natural higher pressure to its outside pulls in the lighter winds from the west that the storm passes through. This results in a tightly packed mass with an open stove top center vent commonly known as the eye and a counter-clockwise circulation. The tighter the spin and the warmer the water, the stronger the storm. As it nears the Caribbean, however, the air gradients ahead of it will determine the continued course. If the north is blocked by a Bermuda high, it can't make the gradual turn to the north which the spinning globe will naturally produce. If there is no blockage, it will start turning north when the conditions are most conducive with pressure and fronts developing. When it turns early, heading close to the United States mainland and the Eastern Seaboard, this is when the geography, winds and currents of the Atlantic can make the Outer Banks a prime target.

Why? Because Cape Hatteras sticks out like a target and it is impacted by two dramatic and powerful currents, the Labrador Current which is moving south with cold water close to shore and the Gulf Stream, which is larger and broader, yet slower, moving out of the Gulf Stream and bringing much warmer water within twelve miles of the beach at the Cape where it collides with the Labrador, hence the creation of Diamond Shoals. That collision is impressive even in calm water, but when it is in the middle of a major storm it is awesome, waves spewing water high like a geyser in the ocean. Since the storms are fueled by warm water, it's almost like the storm has a life of it's own, choosing the warm water to follow if it can. Of, course, a major front or other factor can void that plan, but if you look at hurricane record charts, it's amazing how many storms heading up the East Coast follow very close to that track.

So, what is my message here? Well, quite simply its this. If you plan to vacation on the Outer Banks in August, September or even early October, be aware that your chosen time is the most likely time frame for an Outer Banks hurricane hit. Now, that doesn't happen every year, but it is a not an unusual occurrence either and it should be recognized. Also realize that if you have to leave early, most establishments don't give refunds and even if you plan to come back the following day when the storm passes, it's likely you won't be allowed to. When the all clear to return is given, first responders and year round residents get first choice and often for them it can just be to check on things and save what they can, depending on the seriousness of the event. Just be advised so that you aren't disappointed.

As for me, I like later fall, late October or November and the spring. But even then, a massive nor'easter can blow in without much notice as well. I guess it just means when you choose to visit a beach that's right out there looking like it wants a fight, sometimes it gets one from Mother Nature. I hope the information is worthwhile and I'll pray that we escape major hurricanes again this year across the East.

Notice how the Outer Banks are in the bulseye range for East Coast hurricanes. (courtesy NOAA)

0 Comments

SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN: LIVE EVERY DAY LIKE IT'S SUNDAY!

7/28/2019

0 Comments

Nags Head Baptist Church (circa 1990) Photo: Bobby Culpepper

The picture above is of the church where I attended Sunday school and church as a boy while at Nags Head. It was the Nags Head Baptist Church and my Aunt Sylvia was my Sunday school teacher and a devoted woman of God. She knew her Bible, she knew how to explain it to children in an understandable way and she introduced us to beautiful hymns of faith that we all learned and remembered well. The building above is no longer the main facility for the church which has greatly expanded and prospered, but it served the community well in those earlier times and it was also the place where I bid a final adieu to Aunt Sylvia in July 1991 after she passed away. She and her husband, Uncle Hal are interred in the Cudworth Cemetery in Wanchese on Roanoke Island.

So, why do I put up this picture on this Sunday Morning Coming Down and what do I want the reader to take from it? Quite simply, it's this: Sunday is the Lord's special day each week, a day when we are expected to spend time with Him in His House and praise and thank Him for the blessings He has bestowed. Here in America, even the poorest of us is generally better off than ninety percent of the population of the world and it is our responsibility to show our gratitude to Him by our worship, our prayer, our commitment to reading and understanding His Book and then living our lives in a way that He expects. After all, we were made in His image, so why wouldn't we want to be as much like Him as possible?

But there is more that we need to consider. If Sunday is a day when we devote time to gathering together with other Christians in worship with song and prayer and the Word, why do we so often just shelve the Bible and ignore the other aspects of God's requests for so much of the rest of the week? Why is it we have so much trouble remembering that by keeping in tune with His love and grace every day of the week that our faith and our lives.will be so much more enriched?

The answer is simple. We live in a secular world where so many of us are afraid to speak up and make waves for Christ for we are fearful that we will be scorned, ridiculed and mocked. And yes, it's true that those happen to professing Christians, yet how come some among us are fearless and stand strong anyway? Why can't we be like that since Jesus warned us of what would become of this world and it's just doing what He told us would happen?

The answer is that we can stand up? All we have to do is keep the heart open, listen to the wise counsel of the Holy Spirit within us, reinforce that strength with prayer, the Word and fellowship with others of strong belief and just do it. After all, by following His wishes for us it is pleasing to Him and any pain we might face will never be more than we can withstand. That's a promise that the Father and Son both have made to us. And in the end, it will secure our destiny in His Kingdom at His table where He has prepared a place for us.

With the rest of your life, be an Onward Christian Soldier marching on to War. I'm not talking about the traditional war of mankind but the war of the Spirit, turning Satan away at every turn and showing the strength that a believing Christian should have and display. That is the route to Salvation and Life Eternal. Aunt Sylvia knew it and I know she is home with the Savior. I want to join her there when my time on this earth is over as well. Have a most blessed Lord's Day and keep Sunday alive every day in thought, word and action. That, in the end, will never fail you.

0 Comments

<<Previous

Forward>>

POND TALES: THE CHICKEN AND THE FISH

IN "SUMMERS AT OLD NAGS HEAD," THIS WAS THE PLACE!

SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN: What Made So Many Walk Away?

GROWING UP IN OLD NEWPORT NEWS: The Boulevard Was Priceless

Isn't it Way Past Time for Americans to Display the Spirit of America?

August Brings the "Dog Days," But Then............

SUMMERS AT OLD NAGS HEAD: The Joys of Cast Net Fishing

That One True Friend We All Need, Even if We Don't Realize It

BE PREPARED: PRIME HURRICANE SEASON IS ALMOST HERE!

SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN: LIVE EVERY DAY LIKE IT'S SUNDAY!

ABOUT ME

Archives

Categories