Southwords

Party Animals

The surprise of a lifetime

By Jim Moriarty

When one grows so old that wedding anniversaries might as well be counted with Roman numerals like Super Bowls, there are a few curious rubberneckers who wonder exactly how the disgraceful business got going in the first place. In my case it’s simple: It began on her 21st birthday.

It should be noted that it was the ’70s, which excuses nothing but explains more than one would care to admit, and the occasion was a surprise party. Invitations to the gala were issued in the customary fashion of the day: “Hey, I hear Robin’s having a party Friday night.” Robin was the rarest of all birds, someone who had his own apartment. This meant that his forehead was stamped with the words Event Venue.

She for whom the surprise gala was arranged was scheduled to arrive at, oh, let’s say 8 o’clock. The hour came and went with no sign of the featured dish. As the years have trickled past, I’ve come to realize that time is not a subject she deals with on an even playing field. But I digress. The issue at hand was the ’70s, and barely half an hour after the clock chimed 8, it rang out Bong:30.

Those who know me well know that my own proclivities in recreational consumables are confined almost entirely to barley and hops. Yet here I was surrounded by people staring at a red lava lamp. I resorted to the only thing I felt truly comfortable doing. I began twanging my Ozark harp. Now, my teeth — then as now — are to modern orthodontics what a 1952 set of World Book encyclopedias is to the internet. The uppers are arranged in such a way that, while not totally random, bring to mind the punting formation of a peewee football team. Like Houdini being double jointed, however, it was precisely these irregularities that allowed me — someone with the musical ability of a sugar beet — to so bewitch the assembled partygoers with my virtuosic twanging they were as enthralled as if they were listening to Muddy Waters.

At precisely this point, when I had the navel gazers eating out of the palm of my hand — musically speaking, of course — she for whom the surprise gala was arranged came through the front door. Two things happened. Well, one thing. The thing that didn’t happen was for anyone to summon the wherewithal to yell, as one does at a surprise party, “Surprise!” That nugget was apparently lost in the fog of the ’70s. The thing that did happen was for the celebrant to lock her gaze firmly upon my own (I’d paused the musical interlude, though I was quite prepared to accompany any birthday serenading) and say, “What is he doing here?”

Granted, it didn’t seem as though we’d gotten off on the surest footing but, since she for whom the surprise gala was arranged and I were the only two people at the party who actually seemed to remember it was her birthday, one thing led to another and I eventually suggested we go, pas de deux, for a cup of coffee at the local Dunkin’ Donuts. This she agreed to do even though I now know she detests coffee. Had I known that at the time I would have felt a bit spiffier than I actually did.

It was a rainy, unseasonably chilly night, and we spent some time hobnobbing over warm liquids. Then, in an act of selfless generosity that would have made Mother Teresa blush like a schoolgirl, she suggested we take an extra large bag of doughnuts back to the party, stuffing it full of powdered, glazed and chocolate-covered with sprinkles as if she was packing the muzzle of a howitzer.

When we parked at the curb outside Robin’s apartment, she for whom the surprise gala was arranged exited the car with the bag o’ doughnuts in hand. Unfortunately, she’d seized the bag at the bottom, not the top, and the doughnuts tumbled into the rainy gutter. I can say without fear of contradiction that not even Brooks Robinson at the height of his Gold Glove prowess could have barehanded the slow-rolling grounders with the speed and agility she displayed that night. Having crammed the slightly baptized doughnuts back into the bag from which they’d fallen, she for whom the surprise gala was arranged burst through the door, held the bag high over her head and yelled, “Doughnuts!”

A three-legged antelope on the Serengeti Plain would have had a greater chance of survival than those doughnuts did that night. I said to myself, then and there, this is the lass for me. After all, in every gutter a few sprinkles must fall.  PS

Golftown Journal

Sixty-Eight and Counting

Age just a number for Carolinas Hall of Famer

By Lee Pace

Thirty years ago, Paul Simson showed up at the Carolinas Mid-Amateur Championship at Yeamans Hall outside Charleston and realized he forgot to pack his putter before the drive down from his home in Raleigh. He was lamenting that fact in the parking lot when fellow competitor Vic Long said he had an extra Ping Zing putter that Simson could use.

“I shot a career round — a 62 with two eagles and a hole-in-one,” Simson says. “Obviously I asked Vic if I could keep the putter. I gave him a couple dozen balls and we called it square. If a putter feels good and you win with it, how am I going to change?”

Today that putter sits in the Zan Law Hall of History at the Carolinas Golf Association headquarters in Southern Pines, the club having drained scores of birdies and eagles as Simson stormed his way through dozens of amateur golf titles on statewide, regional, national and international levels. Simson retired the club in 2012 in favor of a newer version of the same putter — updated design, tweaked with improved balance and metallurgy qualities.

And the newer Ping Zing Redwood performs quite well, thank you.

“My game is still competitive,” says the 68-year-old Simson. “I’ve had a handful of high finishes and am very competitive 13 years into senior golf with the guys just turning 55. I’m fairly pleased with the state of affairs.”

On the cusp of 2020, Simson has his schedule mapped for a full slate of regional events as well as the British Senior Amateur at Royal Cinque Ports on the Southeast coast of England, the U.S. Senior Am at the Country Club of Detroit, and the Canadian Senior Am at Pleasant Glen Golf Resort outside Vancouver. This year’s N.C. Senior Four-Ball will be contested at Mid Pines in August.

“Some of the travel logistics will be challenging,” he says. “But I’m looking forward to another year. I had some successes in 2019 but some disappointments as well. I look back on 2019 with mixed emotions.”

The highlight of 2019 was teaming with Don Detweiler, a fellow Raleigh resident and Northridge Country Club member, to win three CGA senior four-ball tournaments and give them nine team titles together. One of the victories was by 10 shots when they teamed for 63-62 scores in lapping the field in the Carolinas Super Senior Four-Ball in October at Mount Vintage Golf Club in North Augusta, South Carolina.

“We’ve really been able to shoot some spectacular numbers,” says Simson. “It’s kinda fun to get that far ahead and just cruise along and enjoy yourself. Don is such a good partner and such a good friend, and our partnership has been a very special part of my golf career.”

The burr in his saddle, though, was not winning an individual title and in fact shooting an uncharacteristic 77 in the final round of the Carolinas Super Senior at Green Valley Country Club in Greenville, South Carolina, in August. Simson led after the first round with a 65, but stumbled and allowed Russ Perry of Winston-Salem a window for a five-shot win.

“You would think after as many competitive situations I’ve been in over the years, I wouldn’t still have to work on patience,” Simson says. “But you know how golf is. Somehow it will get under your skin, and you become frustrated and try to force things. You can’t force a golf game. Frustration is what will compromise a good golf score. In two or three events, I made a few mistakes, and rather than focus harder on the upcoming holes, I focused too much on the mistakes I made. Once you hit a golf shot, there’s not a whole lot you can do about it.

“I’m just disappointed I have to keep learning the same axioms. Everyone knows you have to be patient, just like everyone knows that hard swings don’t produce good shots. But guess what — we swing hard all the time.”

Simson’s day job is vice president at Towne Insurance Agency in Raleigh, a career that gives him freedom to travel for lots of golf. He has played in 64 USGA competitions, including the 1998 U.S. Open at The Olympic Club in San Francisco, and 2020 will mark the 36th straight year he’s played in a USGA event. He has won two U.S. Senior Amateur titles (2010 and ’12) and three British Senior Ams. Simson is in the Carolinas Golf Hall of Fame and has collected 38 CGA titles — the most in history. Among his highlights in the Sandhills was winning back-to-back North & South Amateurs at Pinehurst No. 2 in 1995-96, and teaming with son Phillip to win three Carolinas Father-Son titles (2002 at Foxfire Golf & Country Club, 2013 at Seven Lakes Country Club and 2014 at Pinewild Country Club).

And to think — it all started with that Carolinas Mid-Am victory 30 years ago, followed by a breakout three-win summer in 1991.

Simson was fighting a nasty hook in June of 1991 when the N.C. Amateur was played at Alamance C.C. in Burlington. John Maginnes, a young player just out of East Carolina University, had his eyes on the pro tour, but before turning pro shot 65-65 in the first two rounds to take a seven-shot lead. One of his distant pursuers was Simson, who Maginnes says at the time was “some insurance salesman from Raleigh no one had ever heard of.”

Simson opened with a 73 at Alamance and was trying to find something that worked in his warm-up session the next morning.

“Paul, you’re taking the club back way inside.”

Simson looked up and saw friend and fellow competitor Mac McLendon of Lenior standing behind him.

“Really?” Simson responded.

The light bulb popped on.

“At the time we were still playing balata balls, so any imperfection in your swing made the ball really curve,” Simson says. “I was having a terrible time fighting the hook. Sure enough, I started taking the club back on a straight line and started hitting the nicest draw. That put me on plane.”

Simson shot a 65 that day but was still eight shots behind Maginnes at the halfway mark. But that swing tweak wasn’t a one-day wonder. He followed with another 65 on Saturday while Maginnes played well but hardly lights-out, posting a 70. Still, Simson was down by three entering the final round.

A theme emerged that weekend that would wreak havoc in the Carolinas golf community for years to come: working man with a few less hairs and a couple extra belt notches vs. 20-something with a limber back and unlimited hours to play golf. Simson shot a 69 on Sunday and Maginnes a 73, with Simson making a clutch 8-footer to save par on the last hole and win the title by one stroke.

“So Paul Simson wins his first-ever championship in the state of North Carolina and now has set so many records they’ll never be broken — never be broken,” marvels Maginnes, who did play the pro tour but now is a full-time golf broadcaster.

“That was a real thrill,” Simson says. “I went from relative anonymity to being on the front pages in the golf community. That win gave me a little momentum. I had finished second in 10 or 12 CGA events before winning in 1990. I knew then I could win. Winning the State Am the next near kind of opened the floodgates.”

Indeed, Simson followed the victory in Burlington with championships in the Carolinas Am at Pinewild C. C. in Pinehurst in July and then in the Carolinas Mid-Am at Treyburn C. C. in Durham in October. He beat Kelly Mitchum 3 and 1 for the Carolinas Am title, and nudged Larry Boswell by three shots in the Mid-Am.

“Ninety-one was a very good year,” Simson says. “I have very fond memories. That year really propelled me into a situation where I could step up my game and compete on more of a national level.”

For three decades in the Carolinas, Simson’s trademarks have been a straw fedora, an arsenal of greenside recovery tricks, and an easygoing demeanor effectively countered with an intense zeal to win.

“I think as you get older, you mellow out a bit,” Simson says. “I just love to play, and I love the competition. I get a charge particularly out of playing the college kids I don’t know that well. You beat some of these guys and they say, ‘How’d he beat me? He’s not as good as I am.’

“But in the end, this is a game you play for fun. It’s a lot easier to play for fun than to take it so seriously you make yourself miserable.”  PS

Chapel Hill-based writer Lee Pace has written about great golfers of the Sandhills and Carolinas for more than three decades. Write him at leepace7@gmail.com and follow him at @LeePaceTweet.

Good Natured

Turning a New Leaf

Boosting your health with olive leaf extract

By Karen Frye

The Bible mentions the olive tree and olive leaf many times. Ezekiel tells us “olive fruit is food and its leaves are medicine.” We know that using olive oil has many heart-healthy benefits, but perhaps you’ve not heard about the power of the olive leaves. Thousands of years ago, the leaves were used medicinally to treat many health issues, including colds and fevers, even malaria.

From modern studies of olive leaf, we have a vast amount of information regarding its powerful properties. Olive leaf helps reduce cholesterol and keeps the arteries and veins flexible. It has demonstrated impressive results in lowering high blood pressure, and reducing blood sugar and inflammation.

It’s a wonderful immune system booster, is great at killing germs, viruses and bacteria, and is a warrior inside the body, seeking out these invading toxins and destroying them. It’s also good for neurological problems, joint and connective tissue/bone health. If you happen to be concerned about the effects of ever-present electromagnetic fields, olive leaf — the richest source of oleuropein — can help with that, too.

There are many sources for olive leaf extract. Barleans makes the best on the market, with the full spectrum of polyphenals, and a total antioxidant capacity beyond others. Barleans olive leaf had more total ORAC (oxygen radical absorbance capacity) than many superfoods, as well as high amounts of vitamins C and E. There are many herbs and foods with healing benefits and immune building properties, but few have the reputation of the olive leaf.

I’m constantly amazed by the plants that we’ve discovered to be beneficial for healing and the prevention of the many maladies we confront throughout life. Our health is so precious, and the plant kingdom, with all its diversity, can assist us on our journey to have the healthiest, happiest lives we can imagine.

This February, you can make your heart — and practically every other system in your body — healthier simply by turning a new leaf.  PS

Karen Frye is the owner and founder of Nature’s Own and teaches yoga at the Bikram Yoga Studio.

Wine Country

Let’s Be Clear

Making sense of the language of wine

By Angela Sanchez

The wine world is awash in confusing terms, so let’s clarify a few.

Ever hear that sulfites, especially in red wines, can give you a headache? Not so fast. Wines have been produced with sulfites for centuries — from the ancient Romans’ use of candles made of sulfur to clean wine storing vessels, to turn-of-the-century Europeans using sulfites to stop bacteria growth. “Sulfites help to preserve wine and slow chemical reactions which cause wine to go bad,” according to the website Wine Folly.

Sulfites aren’t evil, but rather necessary for stabilization and preservation, as well as providing aging potential. A sulfite-free wine will have a very short shelf life. Lower acid wines need more sulfites than higher acid wines to become stable and increase shelf life.  Sweeter wines need sulfites to prevent secondary fermentation.

The United States and Australia are the only wine-producing countries that require notification on the label that the wine may contain sulfites. A low number of people may experience an allergic reaction to sulfites (mainly those suffering from asthma, and only 10 percent of them, or those with strong allergies to highly processed foods). A dry red wine contains about 50mg/L (milligrams per liter) of sulfites while a white wine has, on average, 100mg/L — lower than the content of french fries. Generally, wines range from 5mg/L to around 200 mg/L, and in the U.S. the legal limit is 350mg/L. So, the headache could be the result of a myriad of reasons, but most likely not sulfites.

Some farming and production practices can also be confusing. What does it mean to be sustainably or organically farmed? A wine that is produced using only organic grapes — which have had no pesticides or herbicides used on them — in a vineyard overseen by the USDA Organic National Program and uses only organic material to filter the wine can have a label that reads “organic wine.” Most producers in the U.S. and abroad do not choose to label this way simply because it is too restrictive. In the U.S. you will more often see wines labeled “made with organic grapes” instead, meaning that the vineyard where the grapes were produced is certified organic but that the production method — for instance, the use of sulfites to stabilize the wine, or the use of egg whites to filter it — are not certified organic. The production of the grapes on an organic level and producing a quality wine are the top concerns versus making a wholly organic product.

Stewardship of the land is uppermost in organic farming, producing healthy vines and fruit from well-cared-for land, and maintaining a healthy standard of quality for the soil for years to come. Farming “clean” grapes on even a single vineyard on a property of hundreds of acres is extremely costly and labor intensive but worth it. The cost of certifying the wine itself as organic is less important.

To me, wines that are farmed and produced sustainably provide a more well-rounded approach. Usually a wine that has been produced sustainably — and noted on the label — encompasses practices beyond the winemaking. They include everything from stewardship of the land (perhaps not farming organically but choosing to use as few chemicals as possible), to upholding higher standards for human resources, to committing to alternative energy sources, and constant conservation of soil and water resources. The producer might choose to certify as “sustainably farmed,” meaning they would follow the practices of a certifying body (there are several) by keeping records and reports, often checked by a neutral third party. Or, the producer can simply choose to farm in this manner, without the certification, which can be costly and strict. 

Clarifying some of these terms makes it easier for consumers to be knowledgeable about the winemaking industry and its practices, but also to help them make more informed decisions when choosing what they drink. Here are a few suggestions on what to look for:

Organic: Look for USDA certification on the label for wines made in the U.S.

Made with “organic” grapes: Several great California and Oregon producers have wines in their portfolio that will have this on the label. One of my favorites is from Sokol Blosser Winery in Oregon. 

Certified “sustainably grown”: This certification will show that the wine has met the standards of a specific certifying body. Requirements vary from one certifier to the next, but generally the winery has followed conservation, preservation, environmental and social equity throughout their entire business. The area of Lodi in California has a great certification like this, called Certified Green. Other areas of California use SIP (sustainability in practice) certification to denote these practices.

Elsewhere, look for the Integrity and Sustainability label on wines from South Africa, where nearly 100 percent of wineries carry this certification, showing their commitment to not only the land, soil and environment, but to the human resources that are an integral part of winemaking.  PS

Angela Sanchez owns Southern Whey, a cheese-centric specialty food store in Southern Pines, with her husband, Chris Abbey. She was in the wine industry for 20 years and lucky enough to travel the world drinking wine and eating cheese.

Hometown

Untold Stories

A simple man’s jump into history

By Bill Fields

To my memory, still keen though he has been gone 40 years, Dad wasn’t big on sit-down discussions of serious matters. If, in the early 1970s, we had been wearing Fitbits instead of Timexes, they would have shown considerable steps taken during our “Facts of Life” conversation as we paced around the house one afternoon, each doing his best to speak of anything but the birds and the bees.

We got through that talk, fragmented though it might have been, despite our mutual reluctance. That was not the case when it came to my father’s military service, memories of which were as off limits to me as the bottle of Canadian Club stashed in the far reaches of a kitchen cabinet.

The hard stuff of war had come years earlier as my father, a corporal in the 161st Parachute Engineer Company, fought in the Pacific theater in 1944-45. Like so many others, William E. Fields had been plucked from an ordinary life — in his case, a long-haul truck driver transporting produce from his hometown of Jackson Springs to locales along the Eastern Seaboard — to do extraordinary things in the Allied war effort.

In 2020, the 75th anniversary of the end of World War II, plenty of stories will be told about men and women who never wanted to talk about themselves or what they went through.

Dad was inducted Oct. 15, 1942, in Fort Bragg. By the spring of ’44, he had his wings, a wife and a will. My parents’ first child was due that November, by which time Dad was about 9,000 miles from home. An assistant unit foreman, second in command of a squad of parachute engineers, my father directed combat and demolitions work, and helped erect barriers and traps against the enemy.

His unit of airborne engineers was attached to the 503rd Parachute Regimental Combat Team. After fighting in the New Guinea and Luzon campaigns, Corregidor was next as the United States sought to reclaim the rocky island in Manila Bay overtaken by Japanese forces in 1942.

“The airborne landing was one of the most — if not the most — daring, unusual and successful in the history of airborne operations,” authors James and William Belote wrote in Corregidor: Saga of a Fortress, of the Feb. 16, 1945 operation involving 2,065 paratroopers descending from C-47s only 400 feet above a tiny landing zone on a windy morning. The first time I watched a Pathé newsreel film of the jump, the jeopardy of the troops became very real.

I’ve wondered if my mother, in North Carolina with her infant daughter, Dianne, read this Associated Press account published Feb. 18 in the Charlotte Observer and papers across the country: “Plane after plane dropped 10-man teams, some beyond the cliffs, some in rocky ravines but the majority on the ‘topside’ where they were to the rear of enemy guns pointing out to the China Sea. The ’chutists carried full equipment.”

Dad wasn’t in the majority and became one of hundreds of casualties when he landed on uneven terrain, shattering his right ankle. After a long recuperation, he would recover to walk without a limp but was plagued the rest of his life by tropical ulcer or “jungle rot” on the joint and varicose veins in his right calf.

As I found out just recently from an older cousin to whom Dad once confided a decade after the war, getting badly hurt was only part of his Corregidor story. Wounded and alone after being blown off course, he had to hide in a crater covered by his parachute to avoid being seen by Japanese troops before eventually being rescued and evacuated by comrades. It would be two months before he returned to the United States, and September until he was discharged from a convalescent hospital in Virginia with $144.14 and a Purple Heart that cost much more than that.

On Feb. 16, I will be thinking a lot about an ordinary man and the stories he wouldn’t share.  PS

Southern Pines native Bill Fields, who writes about golf and other things, moved north in 1986 but hasn’t lost his accent.

The Omnivorous Reader

Crime and Punishment

Doing justice to a pair of new legal thrillers

By D.G. Martin

Two popular authors of legal thrillers have close connections to North Carolina. We would like to claim them for our state, but both live in Virginia.

John Grisham’s latest book, The Guardians, has spent recent weeks on or near the top of The New York Times best-seller list. Although he lives near Charlottesville, he regularly visits his daughter’s family in Raleigh and enjoys his second home in Chapel Hill, where his wife, Renee, is active in support of the UNC Press and the performing arts efforts.

Martin Clark, author of his fifth novel, The Substitution Order, though not as well known as Grisham, has legions of fans. He has been called “the thinking man’s John Grisham.”

Clark lives on a farm near Stuart, Virginia, just a few miles above the North Carolina line and not far from the Winston-Salem hospital where he was born.

Both new books feature hardworking, smart lawyers confronting sophisticated corruption schemes in the justice system.

Grisham’s story features innocent people who have been convicted and sentenced to lengthy years of confinement. Coincidently, newspapers and movie theaters have been full of real life stories of long-serving prisoners who have been found to be innocent.

“After 36 Years in Prison, 3 Men Cleared in Killing,” a headline in The New York Times proclaimed recently. Stories like it have become more and more common as efforts to establish the innocence of people convicted of murder expand throughout the country, including North Carolina.

Last year Charles Ray Finch, 81, was freed after being wrongfully convicted 43 years ago of a murder in Wilson County. His release came after a 17-year effort by students in the Duke Law Innocence Project.

Why does it take such a long time to undo a wrongful conviction?

Grisham gives an answer in The Guardians. His hero is Cullen Post, a lawyer and Episcopal priest who works for Guardian Ministries in Savannah, Georgia. Post lives in a small apartment above the ministries’ office, but spends most of his time on the road, visiting prisoners all over the Southeast.

Post interviews prospective clients in their prison cells. Most of the time he concludes they are guilty. But for those who have persuaded him of their innocence, he gives his all. He even sits with them as they await execution, sharing their last meal. With others, he tries to unearth facts and connections that might bolster their innocence claims. Back at the office, he helps draft legal documents to persuade courts to open the door for a review of their clients’ convictions. Even after all this hard work the Guardian Ministries has only gained the release of eight innocent prisoners.

Grisham paints the portraits of several imprisoned clients who are almost certainly innocent but focuses on an African-American former truck driver, Quincy Miller. Twenty-two years earlier Miller had been convicted of murdering Keith Russo, a small town white lawyer who had done a lousy job representing Miller in an acrimonious divorce. The evidence against Miller was thin and contrived, but the local sheriff was determined to pin the murder on him.

Why was the sheriff so motivated? Post’s probing is, at first, inconclusive. Then, as he learns that drug dealing might be involved and that the murdered Keith Russo was involved in the illicit trade, things get scary.

Post meets Miller’s original defense lawyer and learns that a drug cartel had subjected him to torture and terror so frightening that he would not speak of Miller’s case in public. When Miller is attacked and almost killed by prisoners on the drug cartel’s payroll and strange men begin to follow Post, Grisham injects his patented skillful storytelling to weave a disturbing tale.

While Post makes it clear that his job is to prove that his clients, in this case Miller, are innocent, and not necessarily to find the actual murderers, after all Grisham reveals about the horror of the drug cartels and the local officials involved in Keith Russo’s murder, it disappointed this reader not to have the real trigger man and his handlers brought to justice.

Maybe Grisham is just leaving the door open for a sequel. If so, I will be in line to buy the first copy.

Meanwhile, there is time to enjoy Clark’s The Substitution Order, which has gained widespread praise. New York Times reviewer Alafair Burke wrote, “In a good legal thriller, the law itself propels the narrative as intensely as any single character. By that definition, Martin Clark’s ‘The Substitution Order’ is not merely a good legal thriller; it’s a great one.”

It opens with its main character and narrator speaking, “For years, I was an excellent lawyer, as honest and effective as you could ever want, and I’m a decent enough person, and despite my mistakes, which — I concede — were hellacious, I deserve better than this misery.” These words introduce us to the plight of Kevin Moore.

When a lawyer’s life collapses, it can fall hard, and the devastation can be horrendous. But hard times can make for a good story, and Moore’s sad situation becomes the basis for Clark’s enticing book.

Moore was an admired and successful lawyer in Roanoke, Virginia. He was deeply devoted to his wife, but then briefly fell into a short fling of infidelity, drug use and association with drug dealers.

The results: disbarment and probation. His wife gives up and leaves him. Hoping to regain respectability and return to a good life, Moore takes a job working in a cheap deli. His circumstances make him the target of sophisticated crooks. A stranger who calls himself Caleb visits the deli and proposes that Moore cooperate in a multi-million-dollar scam to con his malpractice insurer out of millions of dollars. As a part of the scam, Moore would admit that he failed to follow up on a client’s option to purchase a parcel of mountain land for a little less than a million dollars. She lost the property, which later sold for $6 million.

If Moore plays along, his lawyers’ malpractice insurer will pay $5 million to his former client, who is part of the scam.

When Moore turns Caleb and his colleagues down, they use a corrupt law enforcement official to get a fake positive drug test and plant drugs and a pistol in his car. The resulting probation violation and new charges could put him in jail for a long time.

His Job-like experience continues when he suffers a stroke just as his soon-to-be ex-wife takes him off her health insurance coverage. His slow turnaround begins when he calls Dan Duggan, his Davidson College classmate and law school roommate at the University of Virginia, for help. Duggan guides him through the health insurance morass and then, at the end of the book, plays a key role in Moore’s counter-scam to punish Caleb’s colleagues and deny them the fruits of their evil deeds.

Martin Clark, the author of this compelling story, recently retired as a Virginia circuit court judge, giving him, we can hope, time to write more “thinking man’s” thrillers.  PS

D.G. Martin hosts North Carolina Bookwatch Sunday at 11 a.m. and Tuesday at 5 p.m. on UNC-TV. The program also airs on the North Carolina Channel Tuesday at 8 p.m. To view prior programs go to http://video.unctv.org/show/nc-bookwatch/episodes/.

Birdwatch

Speed Dating and Mating

For mallards, timing is everything

By Susan Campbell

For some birds — like mallards here in central North Carolina — spring comes early. While other birds are simply eating and sleeping to survive the worst of winter, with little else on their minds, the drakes sporting their finest feathers, and the hens are on the lookout for a safe neighborhood to raise the next generation of ducklings.

Mallards are familiar to just about all of us — found nearly worldwide, thanks in large part to their popularity as a game bird. The males, with their glossy green heads, curly tail feathers and well-known, loud voices are perhaps the most readily identified fowl on the planet. Females, on the other hand, are much less noticeable but still readily identifiable given their mottled plumage, yellow bills and stereotypical “quacks.” The affinity for living and nesting near people is unparalleled. Although a large percentage of mallards found throughout our state have been domesticated to varying degrees, many behave more like their wild cousins than barnyard fowl.

Truly wild mallards are indeed wary and are unlikely to waddle up to arm’s length for handouts. These so-called “puddle ducks” favor forested areas with ponds and small lakes that provide plenty of emergent and submerged vegetation. While foraging, it’s bottoms up for mallards who are given to feeding heads’ down on leaves, shoots and roots in the shallows. You can also see them diving for food below the surface. They’ll feast on invertebrates when abundant, as well as fruits that may fall into the water. Mallards can also digest mast and so may be seen gobbling up nuts (such as acorns on land) in fall and winter too.

Like all waterfowl, mallards pair by early winter. Pairs may be seen swimming in tandem, and you may even catch them copulating, early in the calendar year — well before the mercury begins to rise. Also watch for drakes defending their mates from unmated males in duels that can be quite violent as well as loud. As winter turns to spring, expect the behavior to escalate — not unlike their human counterparts. In the world of waterfowl, males outnumber females by as many as four to one — so competition can be fierce.

By early March the hens will have found a suitable nesting site. Wandering away from the water’s edge, sometimes as much as a quarter mile, a female mallard will create a simple scrape in a protected spot to start her family. She will lay an egg a day until the clutch is complete. She may lay more than a dozen eggs by the time she’s satisfied with her stash. Each morning, after each egg is laid, she will add down from her breast to the clutch to insulate them from the cold. She will also cover them with pine needles or other vegetation that is present in the proximity of the nest to protect them from the elements. But what’s most important is the blanket that will hide the nest from the eyes of potential predators.

Nest placement for mallards is the key to success. Should she be spotted by crows, the eggs will be eaten in short order. If the nest is sniffed out by raccoons or foxes, it will be consumed in no time flat. Therefore, many hens have learned to lay eggs within the thickest of vegetation — or to nest very close to human habitation. I had a mallard nest in the flowerbed literally right outside my front door for several seasons while living on a lake in the Sandhills.

So should you happen to witness mallards courting nearby in the coming weeks, it could mean the appearance of fluffy yellow ducklings by early spring. Indeed the days are lengthening and these well-known birds are quite aware of the importance of timing, even in the absence of a calendar — or smart phone. Imagine that!  PS

Susan would love to hear from you. Send wildlife sightings and photos to susan@ncaves.com.

The Kitchen Garden

Micro Biz

Delivering nutrition in a tray

By Jan Leitschuh

While the cutting February winds scour the Sandhills, a young Southern Pines entrepreneur putters amid a bright, humid sea of edible green.

His grandfather and great-grandfather were farmers; their tools were mules, harness and hand plows. His tools are scissors and plastic trays, LED lights and stainless steel shelves. 

But for Isaac Kundinger, 26, the occupational heritage is identical: growing stuff. His “stuff” is microgreens.

In 2017, Kundinger took his young savings and embarked on the adventure of starting his own business, The Conscious Cultivators LLC. From a building attached to his parents’ house, Kundinger sells boxes of microgreens to area chefs, Nature’s Own Market, the Pinehurst farmers market and elsewhere.

Microgreens are young vegetable greens, approximately 1–3 inches long, grown out from a tray of seeds. The pungent young greens fall somewhere between sprouts and baby leaf vegetables. They have an intense, aromatic flavor and concentrated nutrient content, and come in a variety of colors and textures. The tender greens are full of antioxidants and beneficial phytochemicals.

First introduced to the Californian restaurant scene in the 1980s, microgreens have steadily gained popularity, and can be found in most white-table restaurants these days, either in salads, as a garnish or integrated into various dishes.

Microgreens can be grown from a variety of seeds: lettuces, arugula, kale, sunflower and chards, herbs like chervil and basil, vegetables like broccoli or radish. As such, the rainbow hue of the various sprouted seeds leads some chefs to call it “vegetable confetti.” The rich flavor and concentrated nutrition of microgreens add a welcome splash of color and taste to a variety of soups, salads, eggs and other dishes, say local chefs.

“We use his microgreens in many dishes at the restaurant,” says Matthew Hannon, award-winning chef de cuisine at Ashten’s restaurant in Southern Pines. “It might be a specific herb tailored to a specific dish, or garnish for multiple dishes. We use his greens as salads, blended in soups and sauces, or anything else we can find a use for them. We truly cannot get enough.” 

One advantage for Ashten’s, says Hannon, is the hometown connection. “The main thing we like about his product is the quality and freshness,” he says. “His operation is literally blocks from the restaurant so the freshness is unmatched.”

Another local advantage is customization. For Chef Warren’s, for example, Kundinger grows a special mix of fennel, lemon balm and chervil for a specific seafood dish.

Hannon relishes the flexibility. “One thing we like so much is our working relationship,” he says. “Issac is always willing to try new microgreens for us. If there is something obscure we are looking for, he’s willing to give it a whirl. I think it keeps us both excited about new products “

In his operation, Kundinger uses only an organic compost mix in his trays. His lighting is a mixture of LEDs, fluorescents and blue light to ensure maximum health, growth and nutrition. He watches the trays of sprouted seed attentively as they form the first, thin seed leaves. He harvests in a short, carefully timed window, when the majority of the tray develops its first hearty set of true leaves. Fans for air movement ensure the proper humidity, so the greens are not packed wet.

With sterilized scissors and plastic gloves, he carefully snips the tender crops from the seeds in the tray, taking care not to crush fragile cell walls. The microgreens are then packed in special clear containers, weighed, labeled and delivered.

Kitchen gardeners wishing for a little February fresh-vegetable hit could grow ’n’ snip a tray of their own vegetable seeds in a windowsill. The most popular microgreen varieties use seeds from a number of plant families, including:

Brassicaceae: cauliflower, broccoli, kale, cabbage, radish, collards and arugula.

Asteraceae: lettuces, endive, chicory and radicchio.

Apiaceae: dill, carrot, fennel and celery.

Amaryllidaceae: garlic, onion and leek.

Amaranthaceae: amaranth, quinoa, Swiss chard, beet and spinach.

Cucurbitaceae: melon, cucumber and squash.

Pea shoots, curly tendrils and all, are another popular crop for Kundinger. He is experimenting with basil microgreens. Microgreens pack all the nutritional punch of their larger parents, but in concentrated form. According to microgreen aficionados, every salad could benefit.

The road to the microgreen business was convoluted for Kundinger. He’d taken some college classes for pre-dental, but found the work unfulfilling. He had friends out West with a medical marijuana business. “This piqued an interest in indoor farming with me,” he says.

He began researching the science of vertical gardening, making several trips to learn the growing process and techniques. “I began to see, especially in urban areas, that indoor farming is becoming a wave of the future,” he said. “The concept of growing microgreens indoors appealed to me through vertical farming, and it was evident to me that one can grow more nutritious food for more people in much less space. It’s become my passion.”

He started out in a 10×20-foot bay in his parents’ garage and turned it into a vertical grow room with 25 wooden shelves and 20 different varieties of microgreens. 

It was a steep learning curve. “There was no manual for me to follow on how to do this,” he says. “I’m learning all this from the ground up.” So to speak.

He experimented with the growing process, the lighting, temperature, airflow and ventilation, heating/air, water, sanitation and more until he developed a thriving environment for microgreens. 

“He’s had to learn a lot on his own,” says Eric Wind, Kundinger’s operations manager. “Lots of trial and error.”

Once he was able to consistently produce a top quality product, Kundinger began taking samples to local upscale restaurants, country clubs, health foods stores and farmers markets. “Working closely with the customer is how I have built my clientele over the past two years,” he says.

The walls for his grow room glow white, and the room smells strongly of springtime with a faint undernote of disinfectant. Everything looks clean, bright and fresh. The grow room walls are a special washable material, glossy and easy to sanitize. He uses fans for airflow, to prevent mildew. Watering routines are strict. The racks are stainless steel, replacing his original wooden racks — stainless steel the preferred surface for sterilization.

An eye on larger markets has prompted many of these changes. While the business is successful, Kundinger sometimes must work part-time to fund expansion and sanitation upgrades and boost his income.

To ensure a self-supporting business, he knows he has to grow his markets. “My vision for the future is to get GAP-certified (Good Agricultural Practices, a USDA audit program) so that I can expand to large distributors, catering companies, colleges and other large commercial outlets,” he says. He recently tripled his indoor vertical space. 

Building a business from the ground up has not been easy, but there have been rich, unexpected gifts. “Figuring this business out taught me discipline,” he says. “I just want this so bad.”

Another gift has been the ability to live his values. The name of his business, The Conscious Cultivators, suggests as much. “It reflects my passion for natural farm practices, and to highlight my core values,” he says.

“I can truly say that I am finding joy in the journey. I am deeply thankful to all of the chefs and businesses that have supported me and believed in me — they played a huge role in my success. Seeing my product used so creatively and artistically to create mouthwatering and nutritious dishes in our local restaurants — and knowing that I played a part in it — has been extremely rewarding.”

As for the chefs, they are effusive in their praise. 

“We’ve always known Issac was on to bigger and better things,” says Hannon. “His commitment to his craft definitely shines in the end result.”  PS

Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of the Sandhills Farm to Table cooperative.

Cabin Fever

Living high on the log

By Deborah Salomon   •   Photography By John Koob Gessner

Abe Lincoln never slept here. More likely Ralph Lauren, Tom Cruise, Oprah, Clint Eastwood — all of whom own palatial log homes. Yet Les Holden’s modest but well-appointed cabin retains that rough-hewn aura conveyed by colors, surfaces and memorabilia.

Since it’s not a kit cabin, the layout can be unpredictable. Furthermore, manicured grass, tall hollies and a bubbling fountain overlooking Hyland Golf Club elevate this cabin over the Shaw House compound or anything attributed to Malcolm Blue.

Sealing the deal, the five-bay garage/workshop shelters five Brass Era (circa 1900) cars Holden has restored to drivable glory. Like King Tut’s sarcophagus, they are historic objects d’art enhanced by his knowledge of their provenance and mechanics.

Holden lovingly strokes the bumper of one, then gestures toward the cabin: “This (car) is more valuable than my whole property.”

Holden caught cabin fever growing up in frigid North Dakota, where his father was a ranch manager, then a feed salesman. He pulls out a black and white photo taken of his family, mid-1950s, in front of a hardscrabble log dwelling as unrelated to his own as Willie Nelson is to Perry Como. Before that, they lived in what Holden calls a “basement house on the poor side of the tracks.” The log cabin had been abandoned. Yet Holden remembers being happy there, especially at Christmas, when a freshly cut tree was illuminated by real candles.

Holden discovered Moore County in the 1970s while serving in the 82nd Airborne Division. “I married the ‘farmer’s daughter’ at Fort Bragg.”

After discharge he did well in real estate and mortgage lending, soon establishing his own company and bringing up a family in a large, formal residence. “We used to drive to Pinehurst often in the late ’80s. You could see the cabin clearly (from U.S. 1).” Intrigued by the elongated garage, he stopped.

“I’ve admired your cabin for a long time. Is it a kit?” he asked the owner. No. The pine logs cut from this very lot are joined with 3000 PSI (pressure per square inch) concrete. Interior/exterior wall maintenance is minimal, although retrofitting for wiring and ductwork, if necessary, can be challenging. The floorplan was tight but sufficient.

They spoke for a while; coincidentally, the owner was planning to sell. Holden had vowed to retire at 39. The modest size (just under 1,800 square feet) was perfect, since his daughters were grown.

He struck a deal with the owner in 1993. The Holdens would sell their fancy furniture, prowl for country antiques, landscape the grounds (including a tall privacy hedge), and adopt a more relaxed lifestyle.

On the day Holden retired, his wife was diagnosed with a brain tumor.

“I lost my ambition for making money. There were other things I wanted to do with my life, including taking care of my wife.”

She died soon after. Holden eventually married a family friend, who died of cancer in 2019.

His log cabin houses memories of both — a showplace minus the glitter. Instead, his concept uses forest hues and materials: A brick fireplace was replaced by stone. Tree bark was cut, flattened and fitted as paneling and window valances. Faux-painted walls also resemble bark. An antler chandelier joins mounted bear and mule deer heads. Colors throughout blend browns with greens, an occasional deep red against leather upholstery.

Antique wooden ice boxes and kitchen “safes” arrived via grandparents. Patterned rugs brighten the knotty pine floorboards.

Except for the upstairs master suite with pale wall-to-wall carpet and unobstructed windows, the house is dark, a result of first-floor windows opening onto a covered porch across the front and a screened porch at the rear, both done in rocking chairs and Amish twig furnishings. Holden installed skylights in the kitchen’s vaulted ceiling, all the better to illuminate this unusual room, which combines distressed painted wood cabinetry with an electromagnetic cooktop that creates heat inside metal pots. The island is built from architectural salvage components. Italian granite countertops add an unusual wavy design in gray-green. A massive schoolmaster’s desk fills one corner. Holden is proud of finding matching antique Windsor stick-back chairs, painted black, for the long table within the kitchen dining area.

One risky departure from the cabin motif: a contemporary staircase installed against a wall, with no railing on the open side.

Holden seems most pleased with details, the small artifacts serving as wall decor, like a spice rack with tiny drawers. Or a child’s sleigh from Vermont. Or a portrait of somebody’s grumpy ancestor, whose eyes seem to follow the beholder. His high-tech  thermostat hides behind a weathered mailbox. A flintlock rifle circa 1820 hangs over a door, and a framed Confederate war bond occupies the stairwell.

“What do you think this is?”

From the aubergine walls of his upstairs office hang framed documents dated 1773 concerning property deeds and mortgage transactions bearing X signatures, also a painting he purchased at Harrods, the London emporium catering to royalty.

Early American life is represented by “possibles” bags hanging from a hall tree — utility cross-body carry-alls used by hunters and frontiersmen, which could, possibly, contain anything.

“I tried to keep (the cabin) as authentic as I could.” Otherwise, Holden filled in with reproductions from North Carolina artist/designer Bob Timberlake’s furniture collection.

Nothing in this highly personal cabin even comes close to what awaits in the garage, which was a major selling point for Holden. He enlarged it to 1,900 square feet, larger than the cabin, installed heat and AC but, as yet, no plumbing. Obviously, the garage is his happy place — a spotless showroom, what the Louvre is to Mona Lisa.

Holden is a familiar name among this rarified group of collectors. His 1904 Cadillac touring car took first prize in the Brass Era (1895-1915) category at the 2013 Concours d’Elegance in Pinehurst. This and his other four open cars (one seats seven) defy description, particularly since he restored the motors and bodies himself. Occasionally, he’ll take one for a spin around Southern Pines. Imagine the reaction.

As for the cabin, after living there for 27 years, Holden still calls it a work in progress. “It’s like living in a vacation home,” he says, then relates this anecdote, with pride:

Some time ago, the cabin was on a home tour. Since homeowners must disappear for the day, Holden chose to peruse other participants. “I overheard two women discussing the elaborate houses they had already visited.”

“Just wait until you see the cabin!” one exclaimed.

The difference? It’s different.  PS

PinePitch

It’s for the Kids

The Authors in Moore Schools is conducting its second annual fundraiser in its effort to continue to provide author visits and signed copies of books at no cost to elementary and middle school students in Moore County. The event is on Saturday, Feb. 1, from 3-5 p.m., at the Triangle Wine Company, 144 Brucewood Road, in Southern Pines. For tickets go to www.ticketmesandhills.com.

Tar Heel Traveler in Town

The Sandhills Woman’s Exchange in conjunction with the Given Book Shop will host WRAL’s Scott Mason, the “Tar Heel Traveler,” who will talk about his new book on Tuesday, Feb. 11, at 5:30 p.m. at the Sandhills Woman’s Exchange, 15 Azalea Road, Pinehurst. The cost is $25. For more information call (910) 295-4677 or visit www.sandhillswe.org.

Expressão de Aplauso

The Fine Arts Department at Sandhills Community College will present Quaternaglia, a Brazilian guitar quartet, on Saturday, Feb. 8, at 7 p.m., at the Bradshaw Performing Arts Center, Owens Auditorium, Sandhills Community College, 3395 Airport Road, Southern Pines. Admission is free. For more information go to www.quarternaglia.com.

Ruth Pauley Lecture Series

Mark Anderson, the director of the conservation science team with the Nature Conservancy, will present “Conserving the Southeast’s Amazing Natural Resources in an Era of Climate Change,” on Thursday, Feb. 6, at 7:30 p.m., at the Bradshaw Performing Arts Center, Sandhills Community College, 3395 Airport Road, Southern Pines. For more information visit www.ruthpauley.org.

Get Your Steps in the Easy Way

Sample your way through the village of Pinehurst tasting candies, cakes and all things chocolate while sipping fine wines during the Chocolate and Wine Walk on Saturday, Feb. 8, from 4 – 8 p.m. Check in at Olde Town Realty. Tickets are $35 per person. For additional information call (910) 687-0377 or visit www.InsiderPinehurst.com.

Leave It to Beaver

Stalk North America’s largest rodent on a beaver habitat hike. on Sunday, Feb. 9, at 3 p.m., at Weymouth Woods. The 1.5-mile hike takes you off the beaten path to get up close to an active beaver dam. They are busy, no? Free and open to the public, at the Weymouth Woods-Sandhills Nature Preserve, 1024 Fort Bragg Road, Southern Pines. For more information go to www.ncparks.gov or call (910) 692-2167.

Author! Author!

On Wednesday, Feb. 12, at 5 p.m., The Country Bookshop will host Etaf Rum, author of the widely praised debut novel A Woman is No Man. Rum is a Palestinian-American who grew up in Brooklyn, New York, and is a graduate of North Carolina State University. The event will be at The Country Bookshop, 140 N.W. Broad St., Southern Pines. For more information visit www.thecountrybookshop.biz.

Live on Stage

Professional actors and community thespians will perform the play Almost, Maine on Feb. 8, 14 and 15 at 7:30 p.m.. and Feb. 9 and 16 at 2 p.m., at the Encore Center, 160 E. New Hampshire Ave., Southern Pines. For additional information call (910) 725-0603 or
go to www.encorecenter.net.

A Touch of New Orleans

Celebrate Mardi Gras and raise money for the Given Memorial Library and Tufts Archives at the same time in the annual Holly and Ivy Dinner at 6:30 p.m. Tuesday, Feb. 25, at the Holly Inn, 155 Cherokee Road, Pinehurst. Tickets are $125 and all proceeds benefit the library and archives. Tickets are available at www.ticketmesandhills.com.

Heart ‘N Soul of Jazz

The Grammy nominated jazz vocalist Jazzmeia Horn highlights the Heart ‘N Soul of Jazz 2020 in the Cardinal Ballroom of the Carolina Hotel, 80 Carolina Vista Drive, at 8 p.m. Saturday, Feb. 15. Tickets are $75 VIP reserved and $65 general reserved. Proceeds benefit the Arts Council of Moore County. For information go to www.mooreart.org. Tickets are available at www.ticketmesandhills.

Recreating the Journey

Storyteller Mitch Capel brings to life the journey of African-Americans through plantation life, the Civil War and the struggle for basic human rights on Sunday, Feb. 16, at 4 p.m. at the Sunrise Theater, 244 N.W. Broad St., Southern Pines. Tickets are $10 or $15 for VIP. For more information call (910) 692-3611 or go to www.sunrisetheater.com.

Young Musicians Festival

The finalist concert of the Young Musicians Festival will be Sunday, Feb. 23, at 2 p.m., at the Weymouth Center for Arts & Humanities, 555 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. For information call (910) 692-6261 or go to www.weymouthcenter.org.

Behind the Words and Music

Four singer-songwriters gather in Nashville’s “in the round” style to discuss the inspiration for their music in a show hosted by Momma Molasses on Saturday, Feb. 22, at 7 p.m. at the Sunrise Theater, 244 N.W. Broad St., Southern Pines. Tickets are $20 VIP or $15 reserved. For information go to www.sunrisetheater.com or call (910) 692-3611.

The Rooster’s Wife

Saturday, Feb. 1: The Kruger Brothers. Since their formal introduction to American audiences in 1997, The Kruger Brothers’ remarkable discipline, creativity and ability to infuse classical music into folk music has resulted in a unique sound that has made them a fixture in the world of acoustic music. Shows at 12:46 p.m. and 6:46 p.m. Cost: $35.

Sunday, Feb. 9: Hiroya Tsukamoto, Walter Parks. Tsukamoto is a one-of-a-kind composer, guitarist and singer-songwriter from Kyoto, Japan. Expect fluid mastery, pristine tone, and great warmth. Parks is an extraordinary singer whose songs can break your heart while they get you dancing. Cost: $20.

Thursday, Feb. 13: Open Mic.

Friday, Feb. 14: Valentine’s Dance with the Shakedown. Nothing beats the thrill of live music. Bring your sweetheart, or find your new one on the dance floor. Or just dance, dance, dance! Cost: $15.

Sunday, Feb. 16: Gessner and Murphy. The love light keeps shining with your favorite songs and your favorite people, Lisa Gessner and Paul Murphy, bringing standards and more of your heart’s desire. Cost: $15.

Thursday, Feb. 20: Barnes, Gordy and Walsh. In the world of bluegrass and folk, where the collaborative possibilities are endless, what draws some musicians together is hard to pinpoint. For Joe K. Walsh, Grant Gordy, and Danny Barnes, a newly formed bi-coastal trio, curiosity is the rule, and the tunes are just a starting point. Cost: $20.

Sunday, Feb. 23: Kamara Thomas. Her bewitching live performance incorporates elements of Native American shamanism, trance-inducing jams, and spellbinding stories of the fabled Old West. Cost: $15.

Saturday, Feb. 29: Seth Walker. A soulful singer, a skilled songwriter, and a guitarist with a sharp, clear tone brings his trio to celebrate leap year. Cost: $20.

Unless otherwise noted, doors open at 6 p.m. and music begins at 6:46 at the Poplar Knight Spot, 114 Knight St., Aberdeen. Prices above are for members. Annual memberships are $5 and available online or at the door. For more information call (910) 944-7502 or visit www.theroosterswife.org or ticketmesandhills.com.