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May 2008
Angels have wheels
Angels don’t have wings, in case you were wondering. Rather, they have wheels and quietly roam the nation’s highways, waiting for that perfect moment when you need them most, but least expect them.
I was driving down Interstate 40 just outside of Hickory, N.C. when it happened. A quiet running mini-van went dead.
We rolled to the shoulder about 100 feet from an off-ramp.
Breaking down on the highway while on vacation, with four kids, can be daunting. It can even be frightening. You never know whether or not the mechanic you end up with on Memorial Day, when all is closed, will take you or help you.
We walked to a nearby truck stop and I was handed the name of a mobile mechanic who makes shoulder-side calls on semi-trucks. Jerry Barrett answered the phone and listened as I explained my dilemma to him.
He gave me instructions on what to look for and told me to call him back. When I reported that I had no spark in the spark plug, the man asked for several minutes. He’d be right there.
Jerry Barrett arrived in his heavy-duty garage on wheels. He checked under the hood, explained that I had lost my timing belt, that he wouldn’t charge me for the call and he would have a friend take care of me from there.
A tow-truck arrived. On the back window was a sticker that read “Angels Among Us.” The driver said it was from a country song. I knew better.
I’m not certain what I think of all those stories of wispy, mysterious angels swooping down and saving folks from near disaster, but I can tell you that there are, indeed, angels among us.
You see, we were returning home from a vacation and we were six hours from our front door. Anyone out there on Interstate 40 could have taken us for a wad of cash and whatever was left on a credit car. But instead Jerry Barrett found us and guided us from a shoulder, to an honest garage to a hotel just down the road.
And the funny thing is, while I had a good time in the Appalachian Mountains hiking around waterfalls and the like, it was that extra day we were forced to take, in a Ramada Inn somewhere in the North Carolina Piedmont, that made a difference.
Wasting time, we found ourselves in a swimming pool. And in that pool I watched as three of my small children final grew water wings and began swimming on their own for the first time, unaided by inflatables. I watched as they began to jump into the pool without the security of my long arms waiting for them and we all laughed and played and were tired, but satisfied.
I’ve heard people say time and again that there are blessings in disguise. And while I suppose I could have looked at this whole thing as though I was out a wad of cash and space on a credit card, a roadside angel named Jerry Barrett in Hickory, N.C. made all the difference. He was interested in helping people he didn’t know, if for no other reason than he could, and that made all the difference for me, my wife and our four children as we were stranded on Interstate 40, unwittingly awaiting the arrival of an angel among us.
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Swampland Video: Historic Homes Part 3: The Kramer House, 1902
Check out Rick an Kelly Boyd’s house. Built in 1902 by a wealthy family, The Kramer House may well be the finest constructed house in Elizabeth City’s inventory of historical homes.
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Swampland Video: Historic Homes Part 2: Grice Fearing House, 1798
For our second house in this four-part video blog series celebrating National Historic Preservation Month, Swampland visited with Georgene and Vidal Falcon, owners of the Grice Fearing Bed and Breakfast Inn, a house originally erected in 1798.
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Swampland People: Carethia Brown
Ever since I began profiling people I meet for Swampland I’ve had my eye out for Carethia Brown, only I didn’t know her name until today.
Many people around Elizabeth City have seen Carethia and her eternal smile. And many of you have run afoul of her while parking illegally, or perhaps too long in one spot.
Carethia is the Elizabeth City Parking Enforcement Officer who frequents the waterfront parking areas and can be seen morning and afternoon crossing children at Sheep Harney Elementary School.
“It’s not about writing tickets,” Carethia says of her job. “It’s all about the people.”
Carethia Brown is hands down one of the friendliest people I’ve ever seen. For the three years I have been here, in Elizabeth City, Carethia has never once failed to wave at me, offer up a smile and a hello.
“I love people and I love being friendly,” says the Lexington, N.C. native.
Carethia has been on the job for 14 years, as long as she’s lived in the area. She and her husband moved here to be close to his job in Virginia. When he retired, however, they had the option of moving back to Lexington, but Carethia says she wanted to stay.
“I wanted to stay because I like it here,” she says, smiling large.
Carethia can also be seen at Mariner’s Wharf keeping tabs on the boats that come in and out as they travel the Intercoastal Waterway. Another aspect of her job that she loves because, she emphasizes, she just loves people.
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Washington Post covers River City, Daily Advance
Daily Advance political reporter Bob Montgomery had company yesterday (Tuesday) when he was covering the elections. Washington Post reporter Krissah Williams hung around and eventually blogged about the big primary election from our little ole point of view. http://blog.washingtonpost.com/the-trail/2008/05/06/afamiliardemographicstoryi.html
Krissah, I have one beef, though. We’re not a small town. We’re a micropolitan. Come on, haven’t you folks up in D.C. been keeping up with the trends?
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The Nicotine Diaries: Part 3, Stress Relief?
Smokers will tell you things like: “Hell, I need a cigarette.” The key word is need. This statement is usually preceeded by a stressful moment and somehow the notion that a cigarette can relieve stress has crept into the mind of the smoker.
When I first began smoking, as a teen, I can’t say that I understood stress they way I do now, as an adult. I can’t say that I recall actually feeling the need for a cigarette because life was beating me down or I had a particularly cruel day. No, in fact as a teenager all I was really doing by smoking was absentmindedly developing a habit that would turn into an addiction.
As an adult, and very recently, I have found myself on numerous occasions feeling out of sorts and stressed and running to have a cigarette, relishing the rush of calming nicotine that ran through my body, from head to toe, sending me into a few moments of euphoria before it wore off and I was convinced that I could join the world anew, stress free and without reservations. As I determined I would not smoke, I found myself fearful that the general anxiety that seemed to overcome me would overwhelm me and I wouldn’t have my crutch to lean on, smoking that cigarette to relive my angst.
It was a myth, I am convinced now. The funny thing about smoking and not smoking is that I am certain that I have been less stressed about things since not smoking than I was when I was smoking. I haven’t had those moments when I thought I would lose my mind so I’d best have a smoke. Why? Well, I suspect that the real sensation I was feeling was my body’s need to be fed nicotine and tar and once it received its dose, the body just thanked me by calming down and taking a sort of sigh of relief.
Now, I still get stressed and there are times that I think about smoking, but my desire to not smoke is currently greater than my desire to smoke. And those moments that are stressful, well, they’re just not so stressful that I have to go pay $4 for a pack of smokes and a whole lot of regret. I suppose you could say that I don’t have to smoke no matter what today.
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Swampland Video: Historic Homes Part 1: Charles Harney House, 1853
May is National Historic Preservation Month. Here in Swampland, we’re dripping in history, especially in Elizabeth City where we have several historic districts. This month Swampland will feature four videos of four different homes, highlighting one room in each home. Please go to our photo/video tab to see the first installment, the Charles-Harney House. Our second installment, the Grice-Fearing House, can be found above.
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The Nicotine Diaries: Part 2, The Cool Factor
The idea that smoking cigarettes is cool comes from, perhaps, film. There are a lot of arguments to made here and convincingly, the history of cigarettes and film as a partnership is well known.
In Hollywood’s golden era stars were encouraged to smoke because it gave them something to do with their hands while they acted a scene. Icons like Humphrey Bogart — he died of lung cancer in his 50s — made smoking look as though it was a natural, almost necessary act. Betty Davis famously blew smoke in her films, creating a sultry, vixon-like image with her cigarettes.
Yet Kirk Douglas famously talks about his first and last cigarette while filming a scene for the picture “The Strange Loves of Martha Ivers.” Douglas reports that he was encouraged to smoke in the scene and when he attempted, he ran to vomit.
Looking back on my experience as a teenager, lighting up that first cigarette, contemplating just why I lit up in the first place, I suppose peer pressure combined with a desire to look cool played into what would become a delusional belief that a cigarette could indeed contribute to one’s cool factor.
In recent years, months and days leading up to that day one week ago when I put them down, I would look around and see people smoking. I would see men and women with cigarettes dangling from their mouths or pinched between their fingers and think it looked awkward, silly and perhaps stupid. Then I would turn and look at the cigarette in my hand and become, at once, self conscious about the whole, awkward holding it, looking for a way to smoke it without looking as silly as the others I had just observed — no luck there.
As I don’t smoke one day at a time, I find myself desiring a cigarette at various moments, for various reasons. One reason might be stress but another, oddly enough, is that I find myself, for just a moment, missing that extension of myself that, in an odd way, kept me company.
But looking cool, well, that’s just not something cigarettes could ever do for me, I’m convinced.
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Swampland People: Jenny Eaton
Meet Jenny Eaton …
Jenny Eaton is a lady I run into now and again, especially if I’m stopping over at Port Discover. Jenny is the manager of the facility, a hands-on science center for kids, in case you didn’t know.
I met Jenny a few years ago when I came to work at The Daily Advance. She’s the wife of former crime beat reporter Chris Whipple. But since Chris left for greener pastures, I happen upon Jenny when I’m taking the kids to the center or just walking by the Main Street storefront. And that’s really what this whole Swampland People thing is about, the people I happen to meet.
I love running into Jenny because she’s great to talk with and have rambling conversations about whatever happens to be on my mind — I confess I am the rambler here. She’s a theater professional from Southern California and I grew up in Los Angeles, son to two actors who tried to make a living on the So. Cal. Stage.
Jenny, who performed once upon a time, made a living working as a stage manager for regional theater companies. Since moving to North Carolina, though, she’s been a dedicated mom to three boys and now is the smiling face at Port Discover.
Like a lot of folks, Jenny decided to volunteer her time at Port Discover early on, only she had the chance to make it a full time job.
“Working here let’s me be part of something that helps the area grow,” says Jenny. “We’re serving a really good population here.”
Jenny says she loves the kids she works with at Port Discover and has learned to know most of them by name.
“It’s fun. It’s really fun,” she says of Port Discover.
Jenny also says working there has allowed her to get to know a lot of people she otherwise might not have met. It’s a perk to a job she says she really loves.
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The Nicotine Diaries: Part 1
So what was the attraction in the first place?
That’s what I’m curious about, so I decided to start this little series within my blog called “The Nicotine Diaries.” This is just a chance for me to muse about why I started smoking in the first place. And the best way for this to work is for people to interact and share their stories, as well.
So like I was saying, why did I start in the first place? Well, the first time I lit a cigarette I was 13 and it was in an effort, or in hopes, of impressing a girl who smoked.
I was in summer school during junior high school. It was held at the high school and there was a smoking area outside. During our breaks I watched as she - I can’t even remember her name all these years later - would stand out there and smoke with her friends. I remember staring through the glass, wanting to be out there with her. She would stare back and smile and wave.
My mother smoked back then so I stole several cigarettes from her and one afternoon, when I was alone, I hid in the garage trying to smoke. With matches in hand, I lit one after another, never quite making it, never really knowing how to puff on a cigarette. All I could do was think that if I could do this, I could spend those 10 minutes with her.
My mother’s boyfriend pulled up into the drive and I quickly stashed everything before I was caught. I gave up on it then, but would return to it later, standing in the parking lot of my high school, bumming a cigarette from my friend, Steve Thomas.
“You’ll regret it,” I recall him saying to me. And, yeah, I suppose all these years later I regret having picked up that cigarette.
I don’t recall why, at that moment, I did it. It just seemed like a good idea. My friends smoked, family members smoked and all I could do at that moment was, well, not think and suddenly I was on my way to smoking full time.
It seems trite, really, but I think it all came down to peer pressure.
