Simple Life

Simple Life

Home
Tag Archives: Department

Something Old, Something to Renew

Third Time Was the Charm

By Jim Dodson

Not long ago, with family and close friends in attendance, my wife, Wendy, and I celebrated 25 years of marriage by renewing our wedding vows in our garden.

Our original wedding took place in late June 2001, but we decided a day this past September was more appropriate for renewing our vows because ours was an autumn romance that led to a summer wedding three years later. As I noted back in July, the way we met and fell in love was something out of a madcap romantic comedy.

Briefly, it involved three blind dates during a major October fundraiser weekend where I was the featured speaker, two of which were comic dating disasters followed by a third that transformed my life in the most unexpected and wonderful way.

Her name was Wendy Anne Buynak, a gifted baker and beautiful mother of two small boys who was in the process of divorcing her husband. After a quiet afternoon first date to a local park, we decided to take our budding romance out of town and motored along New York’s beautiful Cayuga Lake on a beautiful November morning and lunched at a winery, where we met a minibus full of five young, married couples who invited us to join them on a tour of the Finger Lakes wine country.

On a lark, trailing their bus, we joined them for three wineries in a row. At each stop, the couples toasted us and demanded to know more about our romance and my intentions. 

“I have a great idea! You guys should get married today,” one of the young wives blurted out, prompting cheers from her tipsy companions. “We’ll even find a minister!”

We politely demurred, pointing out that we had a dinner reservation at a legendary  restaurant in Ithaca, but thanked them and wished them well. Also, a safe journey home.

On the way to the restaurant, we passed an old-fashioned roadhouse called Glenwood Pines, set charmingly in the woods above the lake, and decided to stop for a cold longneck beer. We had such fun talking to the owners and playing shuffleboard bowling that we decided to skip the restaurant in favor of a cozy Glenwood Pines supper for two. At one point, Wendy wiped away a tear and I asked her if all was well. “I’ve never felt so happy,” she simply replied.

A full harvest moon was shining and the owners told us about a great spot by the lake in Ithaca where they courted once upon a time. An hour or so later, we were doing what couples in love do by a beautiful lake under a full moon when a cop tapped gently on our steamed-up window with a flashlight.

“Are you OK, ma’am?” he politely asked Wendy.

“I’m fine, officer,” she replied. “We’re just talking about our children and what a lovely November day it’s been.”

“She’s in danger of being proposed to very soon,” I chipped in.

“In that case,” he said with a smile, “you folks have a nice evening — and great life together.”

A few weeks later, we met once again at a historic inn in Williamstown, Massachusetts, for our official third date. I read Wendy a poem I’d written inspired by our wonderful day in wine country.

•

Three years later, on what would have been my parents’ 58th wedding anniversary, we got married on a rainy June afternoon in Maine, only Wendy’s parents, my widowed mom and two dear friends from Georgia in attendance, Susie and Rick Berta. Susie, who sang with a famous Atlanta chorale, did a beautiful version of John Lennon’s  “Grow Old with Me,” with its perfect lyric: Grow old along with me. The best is yet to be.

We postponed our reception until early September 2001 — a lobster roast under the stars with an Irish fiddle band for 100 friends and family who were coming from everywhere.

I was buying flowers for the party that clear, blue Tuesday morning, however, when the World Trade Center’s towers fell and America stood still in grief and disbelief. Since air travel was cancelled nationwide, we cancelled our lobster roast. Besides, the American Red Cross had reserved a thousand lobsters for a major fundraiser in New York. All the available local lobsters were spoken for.

Two days later, however, something wonderful happened. Susie and Rick phoned to say they planned to drive all the way to Maine, wanting just to be with us at such a sad time for America. Their call opened a cosmic floodgate. The phone never stopped ringing with friends far and wide who wanted to do the same, including the lobster guy, who called to say the Red Cross fundraiser was postponed and he had several hundred lobsters on his hands that were already paid for. We could get them for a dollar apiece.

The lobster bake was suddenly back on.

Locals in town who’d planned to go away for the week also called to ask if they might come and bring friends and children. Naturally, we said yes.

Instead of 100 guests, we had almost 200, including kids and dogs. Wendy’s amazing wedding cake vanished before I could even get a taste. Because none of our guests except Rick and Susie had been at our wedding, we did a brief repeat of our wedding vows plus a blessing  for the victims and families of 9/11. The music, the dancing and the tears went on until midnight.

•

This past September, as our grown children, new granddaughter, and a dozen or so close friends gathered in our front garden on a balmy evening, I marveled how quickly time had passed. Susie was there despite having suddenly lost Rick last January after 46 years of a extraordinary marriage. When I told her she wouldn’t have to sing “Grow Old with Me,” she laughed and said, “I’m not sure I could!” Her simple presence was the perfect gift.

I surprised my bride of Irish heritage with a small, gold necklace featuring the Celtic symbol of eternity, and she surprised me by appearing in a gorgeous new wedding dress — an upgrade from the one that was ruined in the rain at our first wedding ceremony.

Before Rev. Ginny Inman conducted her short but beautiful renewal of our vows, I told our gathered friends about our first three dates 26 years ago and read the poem I proposed with. They seemed to dig it.

Maybe the third time really is the charm. This time, I finally got to taste Wendy’s marvelous wedding cake.  PS

Jim Dodson’s 17th book, The Road That Made America: A Modern Pilgrim Travels the Great Wagon Road, is available at The Country Bookshop

PinePitches November 2026

PinePitches

Home
Tag Archives: Department

PinePitches November 2026

The Last First

Time to, um, “extinguish” the fire and call in the dogs, the last First Friday of the 2026 season is Friday (Whoa, what are the odds?), Nov. 6, at the usual place — the grassy slope next to the Sunrise Theater, 250 N.W. Broad St., Southern Pines — at the usual time, the fun starts at 5. Appropriately, the closing act is Fireside Collective, a hybrid bluegrass, folk, funk and classic rock band based in Asheville. Outside alcohol is verboten and, as for the dogs, leave all four-legged creatures at home. The cost is nada. For more info go to www.sunrisetheater.com. A little traveling music, please.

A Mouse King and a Sugar Plum Fairy

Gary Taylor Dance presents the enchanting holiday ballet The Nutcracker, in BPAC’s Owens Auditorium, 3395 Airport Road, Pinehurst, in three performances: 7:30 p.m. on Friday, Nov. 20;
2 p.m. on Saturday, Nov. 21; and 2 p.m. on Sunday, Nov. 22.
Come early to the Saturday matinee to meet some of Clara’s
favorite characters in the lobby. For tickets and info go to
www.ticketmesandhills.com.

Some Good Luck on Friday the 13th

For an intimate, story-driven concert experience, join the Chatham Rabbits at 7:30 p.m. on Friday, Nov. 13, at the Sunrise Theater, 250 N.W. Broad St., Southern Pines. The band, led by the husband and wife duo Austin and Sarah McCombie, blends folk and traditional bluegrass with conversational banter. Ballad singer Murphy Campbell will be a special guest performer. For info and tickets go to
www.sunrisetheater.com.

Flip the Switch

Bring family and friends to the village of Pinehurst tree lighting on Friday, Dec. 4, at Tufts Memorial Park, 1 Village Green Road W., Pinehurst. Beginning at 5 p.m. there will be music, food, holiday cheer and a jolly old elf. The lighting takes place at 6:30 p.m. For more information go to www.vopnc.org.

Tour de Force

Take a wild ride through musical history with the Baxter Clement Variety Show benefiting the Boys and Girls Club of the Sandhills, on Wednesday, Nov. 18, at 7 p.m. at the Sunrise Theater, 250 N.W. Broad St., Southern Pines. For tickets and information go to www.sunrisetheater.com.

Thank a Vet

The Southern Pines Veterans Day parade is Saturday, Nov. 7, up and down Broad Street, from 10 a.m. to noon. Wave a flag and applaud all who served. Freedom comes at a cost. If you need additional information call (910) 692-7376 or visit www.southernpines.net.

In the Mood

The Sandhills Community College Jazz Band presents “Up and Down Broadway,” at 6 p.m. on Monday, Nov. 9, in BPAC’s Owens Auditorium, 3395 Airport Road, Pinehurst. The Union Pines High School Jazz Band is the opening act. Admission is free, but tickets are required. For those, and more info, go to www.ticketmesandhills.com.  PS

 

Ruth Pauley Speakers

Tom Murphy, a retired Navy captain and former SEAL — whose career included command of the much-publicized SEAL Team Six — provides a rare look into military combat experience and its enduring effects on the mind, body and spirit, on Tuesday, Nov. 10, at 7 p.m., in BPAC’s Owens Auditorium, 3395 Airport Road, Pinehurst. The program, “Beyond the Trident: A Navy SEAL’s Search through Trauma for Meaning in Life,” shares deep introspection into PTSD and recovery. The lecture is free, but tickets are required. For info and tickets go to www.ticketmesandhills.com or visit www.ruthpauley.org.

Weymouth Wonderland

Grab a treat, a warm drink, visit with Santa, shop local artisans and vendors, tour the decked-out Boyd House and listen to some holiday tunes when the Weymouth Center for the Arts & Humanities holds its holiday market beginning at 10 a.m. on Saturday, Dec. 5. For more info go to www.weymouthcenter.org.

Garden of Lights

Beginning at 5 p.m. on Friday, Nov. 27, the Sandhills Horticultural Gardens, 3245 Airport Road, Pinehurst, will present its Garden of Lights. More than a million lights and illuminated displays will transform the pathways. The display lasts through Jan. 9.
For information go to www.sandhills.edu/gardenevents.

Golftown Journal

Golftown Journal

Home
Tag Archives: Department

Whisper Campaign

Freshening up a Maples classic

By Lee Pace

Flashback to 1959: The baby boomers are entering adolescence. The Korean War is finished, Vietnam yet to come. Alaska and Hawaii become the 49th and 50th states. Frank Sinatra wins his first Grammy Award for best album with Come Dance With Me. Art Wall wins the Masters and Billy Casper the U.S. Open. Closer to home, a long-hitting teenager with a blond crew cut wins the North and South Amateur on Pinehurst No. 2 — Jack Nicklaus would turn pro the following year.

And it had been more than 30 years since a new golf course opened in the Sandhills.

A.B. Hardee changed all that when he opened a sparkling new residential, golf and country club community around a series of lakes just northeast of Pinehurst. He hired Ellis Maples, son of the former Pinehurst greenkeeper Frank Maples, to design the golf course, and called it the Country Club of Whispering Pines.

“Whispering Pines was one of the most renowned courses in its time,” said Woody Davis, whose Pinehurst-based golf management company owned the facility in the early 2000s. “It’s nearly 50 years old, and there’s a lot of history here. But a lot of people don’t know we’re here. It’s a true jewel. It’s a hidden secret.”

Kelly Miller had just moved to Southern Pines in the mid-1980s after marrying Peggy Ann Bell and going to work in management at the Bell family’s Pine Needles Lodge & Golf Club (and later the family would acquire Mid Pines Inn & Golf Club and Southern Pines Golf Club). Whispering Pines was one course on a rota of venues that a group of up to 16 golfers would play regularly, the group including Warren “Bullet” Bell and noted area club pros like Harvie Ward and Andy Page.

“I have fond memories of Whispering Pines,” Miller says. “It has great corridors. The routing is really good. I have always been intrigued in the lineage to Pine Needles and Mid Pines because Ellis as a young man worked on the construction of both those courses.”

Hardee, a developer from Lexington, N.C., was intrigued in the mid-1950s with the lake-studded area between roads that are now U.S. 15-501 leading to Pinehurst and U.S. 1 going to Southern Pines. The cornerstone to this section was Thagards Pond, which at some 6 miles in circumference was more of a lake than pond.

Hardee envisioned a community of lakeside homes, water sports and picnic facilities along with a golf and country club. It would be a self-contained town, complete with sewer, fire and police. His construction crews worked around an ancient cemetery, and he lowered the lake 6 feet to remove stumps and logs as a safety measure for boaters. The lake was stocked with nearly 20,000 warm-weather trout. Playing on the area’s beacon as a golf resort, Hardee built three buildings of villas for out-of-town guests. The club opened for golfers in 1959.

“It’s a perfect haven for retiring people, within easy driving distance of resort centers in Southern Pines and Pinehurst, and military facilities at Fort Bragg,” Hardee proclaimed.

Donald Ross, the famous golf architect who had designed seven Sandhills area courses (Pinehurst Nos. 1-4, Pine Needles, Mid Pines and Southern Pines Country Club) had been dead for a decade, so Hardee went to the next best thing in the Carolinas architecture business. Ellis Maples as a teenager worked for his father in building and maintaining the first four courses at Pinehurst Country Club, and later he worked in the golf shop at Pinehurst and as assistant greenkeeper at Mid Pines and Pine Needles. Maples supervised the construction of the last Ross design, Raleigh Country Club, in the late-1940s, and in 1953 decided against becoming a golf professional and focused on architecture.

His career over three decades before his death in 1984 included Grandfather Golf & Country Club and the Country Club of North Carolina (Dogwood Course), two of the finest courses in the state.

“Dad and I were pretty much alike in a couple of ways,” says Dan Maples, Ellis’ son and himself a noted golf architect. “We both belong to the Donald Ross school, which includes designing courses for all golfers. That’s more difficult to accomplish today than in Dad’s day because we now have to deal with environmental issues.”

Miller never forgot playing at Whispering Pines back in the day, and in 2025, the opportunity arose for Miller and business partner Haresh Tharani to form a management concern called Rolling Pines LLC that purchased Whispering Pines (as well as Foxfire Country Club to the west of Pinehurst). Their first move was to hire golf architect Kyle Franz to renovate the Pines Course (the original layout at Whispering Pines), and it opened in late September.

“When I first saw the course, I saw loads of incredible potential,” Franz says. “It’s a really cool piece of land and a really cool golf course. The bones were there. It just needed freshening up. It’s on a great, sandy site with excellent drainage. I could not be any prouder of how it’s turned out.”

Franz first came to the Sandhills in 2010 to work on the construction crew for Bill Coore and Ben Crenshaw on their restoration of Pinehurst No. 2. He soon met Miller, and over the next decade handled restorations at Mid Pines, Pine Needles and Southern Pines, each a golf course designed by Ross. In his research on Ross, Franz learned much about the Maples family.

“I have a huge fascination with their family and Frank Maples’ influence on Ross and Ellis,” Franz says. “All the press in the mid-1900s went to Dick Wilson and Robert Trent Jones, but in my mind, Ellis was the best architect operating during that period. This routing feels like a Ross routing. He worked for Ross for 25 years, so some of Ross rubbed off on him. The routing is Ross-like, the green pads feel very Ross-like.”

At Whispering Pines, Franz rebuilt all the greens and bunkers, and adjusted some fairway widths and angles. The greens have been planted with Mini-Verde Bermuda, the same grass used on the parent company’s other three courses.

“If we did a blindfold test and took people out on our four courses here and did not tell them who designed them or any of the details, a bunch of people would say Whispering Pines is their favorite of the four,” Franz says. “Ellis’ work deserves more attention and credit.” PS

Lee Pace has written about the Pinehurst experience for more than three decades from his home in Chapel Hill. Write him at leepace7@gmail.com and follow him @LeePaceTweet.

Native Identify

Native Identify

Home
Tag Archives: Department

Native Identify

In honor of National Native American Heritage Month the Arts Council of Moore County will showcase the works of four local Native American artists, Karina McMillan, Marcus Dunn, Shantonia Chavis-Bullard and Betty Mangum, in an exhibit titled “Native Identity,” opening on Friday, Nov. 6, at the Campbell House Galleries, 482 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines, and running through Saturday, Dec. 19. McMillan, Chavis-Bullard and Mangum all share Lumbee Tribe heritage, while Dunn is Tuscarora. “It’s been kind of on our radar for a long time,” says Kate Curtin, the programs and gallery director. “I grew up in the Northeast, and the artistry, the traditions were everywhere.” Here’s a chance to explore a few of them.

Karina McMillan

“When the artist Karina McMillan was growing up in rural Robeson County, she spent long days outside in the woods and in the surrounding fields of cotton, soybean and tobacco near her house, and long hours with her family, steeped in the culture of the Lumbee Tribe of North Carolina. Never far from her side were the ballpoint pens and paper she used to draw all of it, and all of them,” wrote Liza Roberts in the May edition of PineStraw. Those pens have propelled McMillan’s art to extraordinary heights.

“I am especially drawn to the possibilities of ballpoint pen as a medium. What is often viewed as an ordinary, everyday tool becomes a way to create intricate, intentional compositions built through layers of line, texture and detail,” says McMillan.

“My work explores identity, memory and cultural continuity through the lens of my experience as a Lumbee artist. Through drawing, printmaking, painting and mixed media, I create visual narratives that reflect the connections between personal history, Indigenous heritage and the stories carried across generations.”

“Karina McMillan’s work is extraordinary,” says Sara Segerlin, director of the Gregg Museum of Art & Design at N.C. State University. “Her paintings carry a power that goes far beyond color or technique. She brings forward portraits of resilience, memory, pain and strength, stories that refuse to be forgotten.”

Marcus Dunn

An art professor at Richmond Community College in Hamlet, Marcus Dunn has exhibited his work at the SCAD Museum of Art in Savannah, Georgia (where he earned an MFA), and the Institute of American Indian Arts Museum of Contemporary Native Arts in Sante Fe, New Mexico, to name just two. He is the 2022 South Arts Southern Prize recipient for North Carolina and is an alumnus of the Skowhegan School of Painting & Sculpture. Dunn is also an active participant in the United Kahtenuaka Longhouse, with a focus on language and traditional song and dance practices honoring his native Tuscarora heritage. Through his art, Dunn has spent years scouring archives for photographs of boarding schools and related forms of assimilationist educational practices, transforming such images into richly textured impressionist paintings, giving presence to the lives transformed by the boarding school system. “The most dramatic formal aspect of a Dunn painting is that it has a swift one-pass-of-the-brush feel,” writes Stephen Knudson in ARTPULSE. “This way of painting leaves holes in objects and figures. It is just enough, and it is the language of something forming and of something disappearing — the primary thesis of this work.”

Betty Mangum

Now in her late 80s, Betty Mangum grew up on the campus of the University of North Carolina at Pembroke, where her father was the dean of students when it was still known as Pembroke State College. She took up painting after attending a “paint ‘n sip” class given by Jane Castinelli at Elliott’s on Linden just eight years ago. “Mind you, my drawing is not good at all, but I love slapping paint on a canvas,” says Mangum. Her preferred medium is oil paint. “I tried acrylic, but it dries too fast. I make a lot of mistakes. Oil you can go back and rework it lots of times,” she says. “I’m a big picture person. I’m not a small detail person. That doesn’t seem to be my personality. I just have a folksy style.” Mangum is drawn to both water scenes and faces as subjects. “I don’t seem to have a wide variety of things that I enjoy painting, but water I find very soothing, and people’s faces I find very interesting,” she says. Though she came to painting late in life, Mangum was always a lover of the arts, particularly music and theater. “I’m just kind of drawn to beautiful things,” she says. “I’m Lumbee Indian. I like colors. If you’ve looked at Indian regalia or have been around Indian people, they mostly are colorful personalities and wear a lot of color. The regalia is always very bright. Nothing subdued about it. I tend to paint kind of loudly.”

Shantonia Kai Chavis-Bullard

“Art grounds me,” says Shantonia Kai Chavis-Bullard. “As a Lumbee artist, my work connects deeply with my community and reflects my personal interpretation of the world.” A retired art teacher with bachelor’s and master’s degrees from the University of North Carolina at Pembroke, Chavis-Bullard works mainly in acrylic but also enjoys batik, pastels and ceramics. “Acrylics are my favorite because they allow me to build layers, experiment with texture and work intuitively as ideas develop,” she says. “My work explores themes of memory, identity, spirituality, womanhood, healing and the emotional landscapes we carry within us. As a Lumbee artist, I am inspired by my culture, family history and the strength of Native women, as well as by my Christian faith and personal experiences. Rather than creating traditional portraits, I use symbolic figures and expressive environments to tell stories that invite viewers to find pieces of their own journeys reflected in the work. I paint the unseen — those quiet places where memory, spirit and emotion shape who we become.”  PS

Sporting Life

Sporting Life

Home
Tag Archives: Department

Memories on the Wing

By Tom Bryant

“Our dead are never dead to us until we have forgotten them.”  — George Eliot

So it’s hot. July in North Carolina. What do you expect? I opened all the car doors on the 4Runner, cranked it while leaning inside and turned the air conditioner to full blast. Linda, my bride, was standing at the arbor door giving me encouragement while I tried to get the Runner habitable.

“You be careful, and say hey to Bubba.” She went back inside and closed the door to the heat.

It was a mixed blessing kind of trip. Even though I looked forward to seeing Bubba, I kinda really didn’t want to. The word from the old-timers and outdoor geezer friends had gotten to me. He was in a bad way, one that didn’t seem to be promising.

Bubba had moved to a retirement/healthcare village, leaving his wonderful home, and when I heard that he had put his favorite place in the world up for sale, I knew that things were not right. I made plans to visit. I couldn’t get him on the phone for some reason, so we communicated by text, and I told him I was coming and to get ready ’cause he was gonna buy me lunch.

It’s about a two hour ride up to Bubba’s new place, and since I was in no hurry I kinda meandered along. Random thoughts about our friendship bubbled in my brain, one reflection leading to another. We met many years ago, and part of our first conversation had something to do with duck hunting versus Canada goose hunting. I remember Bubba was pro goose, and I was heavy in favor of the ducks.

“After all,” I said as we closed our argument, pro and con, “there aren’t any geese around here. You gotta go to Maryland to find any numbers and to the coast maybe to even catch sight of one.”

In those days that statement was true, before the geese figured out that migrating was a waste of time. Why expend all that energy when you can live and prosper in one spot? Now they’re grazing the greens on about every golf course in North Carolina.

“I’m gonna invite you to a goose hunt next season,” he responded, “and I’m sure you’ll change your mind.” He did, and I did. We made our first trip to the Eastern Shore of Maryland, hunting with Bill Meyers on his Plimhimmon plantation, and I was hooked on Canada goose hunting.

I pulled up to the check-in gate at the retirement village a little before 11 a.m. and asked the attendant how to get to his villa. “Take a left turn after three streets. He’s in number 312. It’ll be on your right.”

The place had the same fresh ambience of an expensive country club. Lush plantings surrounded miniature lily ponds, and oak and maple trees were in abundance. Sidewalks curved around the surroundings with benches spotted here and there. The atmosphere was lavishly luxurious in an understated way, but as I drove through, slowing for the inevitable speed bumps, up the little hill to turn and find Bubba, I wondered if he was happy here.

The front door of the villa was open with a glass see-through storm door slightly ajar. I eased through the door. “Hey Bubba. You in there?”

A weak voice responded, not like him at all. “Come on in, Coot. I’ve been waiting on you to get here.”

I hoped that I didn’t visibly show how shocked I was at seeing my thin, longtime friend supine on the couch. “Coot, sometimes you really piss me off,” he said. “You never change.”

“Bubba, you know that’s not true. Remember the folks at Duke removed half my innards. I’m walking around now several pounds lighter.” He laughed and coughed and said, “Look in the fridge in the kitchen and pour us a glass of wine. We got some catching up to do before lunch.”

I poured us two glasses out of an open bottle of red wine and went back to the living room. The couch was on one wall, on the opposite were shelves with several mounts of game Bubba had gotten over the years. “Yeah, Judson brought those from home to kind of make this place a little more habitable.”

“I don’t remember seeing that ptarmigan before,” I replied. The bird was half in its winter color and half in summer. A beautiful specimen.

“I got that on my last winter trip to Canada.”

We sat silently, neither of us knowing what to say. I broke the silence. “Bubba, you don’t look too good. What’s up?”

“I had to move over here. I kept falling down at home, and now the docs here are trying to fix it. Not having much success. Hell, let’s go eat. The restaurant is down the road a piece. You’ll have to help me.”

It was a chore. Not physically, but mentally. To see my good friend in such debilitating health was a shock. I helped him get in the car and then on the walk to the dining room. He used his cane on one side, and I held his arm on the other.

Lunch was short, and so was the conversation. I don’t remember what we had or said, but we were glad when it was over.

Back at his house, we poured another glass of wine. I asked, “Bubba, you sure it’s OK for you to be drinking this stuff?”

“What’s it gonna hurt?” he said, laughing. “I tell you what, Coot, if this is it, and realistically, I think I’m on the way out, I’ve had a great ride. I’ve been getting rid of things, sold most of my guns, and have given all the rest of the household stuff to the kids. They’re helping me with the bride, you know.” Bubba’s bride of many years was having her own health problems, and the children were taking turns looking after her.

“I want you to have my swan. Remember? You were with me at Currituck when I got my first one. We were hunting with Old Man Woodrow. You got that redhead duck you had mounted, I recall. We ate that first swan. The swan I want you to have, I got in Montana. It’s hanging over the fireplace at home.”

When I hesitated he said, “Coot, we’ve been friends for a long time, and by taking the swan, every time you look at it, you’ll recollect some good adventures. It’ll be a way for me to be around a little longer.”

He died three weeks later. I didn’t get to see him again. I heard he had moved back to his beloved home, set up a hospital bed in his study overlooking the wood duck pond, hired a couple of round-the-clock nurses, and spent his last days there.

Right before he passed on, I called him and got his voicemail. I can’t recall the message I left. What can you say to a good friend who’s dying?

It turns out Bubba had the last word after all, because he left a message on my phone a few days later.

“Hey Coot, got a few folks in here. Not prepared for a lengthy conversation. Hope all is well. Maybe tomorrow we’ll get up together and have us a little bit of a leisurely chat. Take care of yourself, bud.”

We never had that leisurely chat, but now that swan hangs over the door leading to the roost, so every time I walk under it, I can remember the good times and one of my best friends. Bubba’s ashes have been sprinkled on a ranch in Montana, one of his favorite hunting locations.

Out of the multitude, he was one of the rarest. He walked to his own drummer. No apologies or excuses given. He’s missed.  PS

Tom Bryant, a Southern Pines resident, is a lifelong outdoorsman and PineStraw’s Sporting Life columnist.

Cork & Bottle

Cork & Bottle

Home
Tag Archives: Department

Gearing Up

Wines for the holidays

By Janeen Driscoll

It’s holiday season and time to get your pre-game on, before the party really begins. Think wine is on the decline? Don’t listen to everything you hear. People are choosing quality over quantity as we round out 2026, but value is yours for the taking. Don’t be surprised if some unexpected gifts fill your holiday stocking as producers push exceptional inventory before the end of the year. Here are a few ideas and trends to get your juices flowing.

Bless Your Heart

Tailgating at Blessing of the Hounds? Bedazzle my new boots. Spain and Italy are delivering high-quality sparkling wine without the sticker shock of the real French thing. Skip the orange juice in favor of the Campo Viejo Cava Brut and/or the Cantina Castelnuovo Del Garda Blanc de Blancs, which will easily cut through the fat of a warm country ham biscuit on a cold morning. We recommend you don’t go heavy here, given the all-day celebration about to unfold. A winter white among friends? Try the Pine Ridge Chenin Blanc-Viognier blend. It’s a perpetual favorite and easy on the budget.

Proud to be an American

Thanksgiving is our holiday, after all. The tariff wars give you a terrific reason to explore the U.S., from sea to shining sea. Whether roasted, smoked or deep-fried, your turkey will pair perfectly with a pinot noir — we love Sonoma’s Hartford Court’s Land’s Edge. It won’t overpower Grandma’s gravy and hits the right notes on side dishes. Need to drown your post-Thanksgiving sorrows in leftover mashed potatoes? While it’s getting a worse rap than marshmallows on sweet potatoes, Napa’s own Rombauer Chardonnay is the butter and cream you crave.

Man Up

Girls love football too, but you’re going to need a brawny bottle to foil the beer-drinking crowd at game time. GSM is that delectable combination of grenache, syrah and mourvèdre that unearthed luscious Châteauneuf-du-Pape and gave way to a more modern Paso Robles and Washington State trend. These are the secret power wines that go well with crockpot roasts, steaks on the grill and brisket sliders. Full of juicy fruit with a backbone stronger than the Seahawks defense, it will impress everyone during bowl season. The Domaine Lafage Tessellae Old Vines is a good place to start.

Vary the Varietal

If you’re gifting a grocery store cabernet on your way to the holiday party, you’re cheating. It’s the perfect excuse to go tiptoeing through the wine aisle and test a few unknown labels that spark your fancy. Let your creative juices flow with a bottle they’d die to try. Wines from Greece are rising in popularity, especially the mineral-driven white assyrtiko and the bolder mandilaria reds (man-dee-LAR-ea-ah). We blind-tasted the Seiradi Cuvee Premno and it was an immediate hit among men who love their wine inky and impressive. Or, you can pick an Italian — but make sure the bottle neck carries the premier DOCG label, if you’re gifting it to the boss. Spain’s Barambán, a blend of garnacha and tempranillo, is also a great choice, as feisty as it is smooth. 

Cheers and Toasts

French Champagne production is down, which could cause availability to decrease and prices to increase before the year is over. If tiny bubbles are what you crave after the mistletoe, buy them early. I love Veuve Clicquot for the back story (veuve means “widow” — take it from there), but Moët and others offer reasonable price points if you’re ready to shop. Since most restaurants and bars offer a variety of sparkling wine choices by the glass during the holiday season, it’s a good time to sip and savor. Wine is bottled poetry, a famed writer once penned. Taste test and let the magic inspire your next toast.

Janeen Driscoll and her husband, Patrick McKee, own Cork Community Spirits, a craft cocktail and wine bar in downtown Southern Pines.

Tea Leaf Astrologer

Tea Leaf Astrologer

Home
Tag Archives: Department

Scorpio

(October 23 - November 21)

By Zora Stellanova 

Know what’s sweeter than overseeing karmic justice? Redirecting that soul-piercing energy back to your own life. The first half of the month will bring opportunities for some tending and mending, especially when it comes to financial dealings and joint ventures (read: no bridge-burning required). And when Mercury and Venus station direct on Nov. 13, try letting things feel easy for a while. You deserve the break, darling. 

Tea leaf “fortunes” for the rest of you:

Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21)

Drink more water.

Capricorn (December 22 – January 19)

Run your own race, darling.

Aquarius (January 20 – February 18)

You’ll laugh about it later.

Pisces (February 19 – March 20)

Wear thicker socks.

Aries (March 21 – April 19)

Explore lumbar support.

Taurus (April 20 – May 20)

Two words: candlelit dinner.

Gemini (May 21 – June 20)

Honesty is a grace.

Cancer (June 21 – July 22)

Try adjusting your lens.

Leo (July 23 – August 22)

Can you let it be simple?

Virgo (August 23 – September 22) 

There’s nothing to prove.

Libra (September 23 – October 22)

You can’t fix what’s not broken.  PS

Zora Stellanova lives in the N.C. mountains with her wolfdogs, Venus and Lilith. Although she prefers divining with loose-leaf pu-erh, she recommends a mugwort and passionflower blend for those seeking wisdom and clarity from the dream realm. 

Birdwatch

Birdwatch

Home
Tag Archives: Department

A Familiar Call

Northern bobwhite on the rebound

By Susan Campbell

For some of those fortunate enough to live in open piney woods or adjacent to large farm fields, the whistled call of the bobwhite quail may be a familiar sound. As with so many of our bird species, this once prolific songster has diminished across the Piedmont and Sandhills of North Carolina.

Bobwhites measure between 8 and 11 inches beak to tail and have very cryptic brown, black and white markings, which make them very difficult to see in the grassy habitats they call home. The male has a bright white eye stripe and throat and is the one who announces his territory through a repeated “bob-white” call. The female is not only smaller but is drabber with an eye stripe and throat that are a buffy color. This stout bird is well adapted to foraging at ground level for insects, berries and soft vegetation with its short sharp bill, strong legs, and feet with sharp claws.

Bobwhite males attract a mate using their loud repetitive calls in the spring. The female will reply with a four-syllable whistle of its own. Following breeding, the pair create a domed nest concealed in tall grasses, and the hen lays up to 20 pure white eggs. There is a period of approximately 25 days of incubation before the young hatch.

Hens will renest if the eggs are eaten or destroyed. Upon hatching, the chicks will immediately follow their parents, learning how to hunt bugs and which shoots are the most nutritious. As a group they are referred to as a covey. They will stay together through the winter and may join with other families to form coveys of 30 or more birds. When alarmed at an early age, the young will scatter and freeze to avoid predators. Once they can fly, they will take to the air in a blur of wings if they are startled by a potential predator.

Quail were a very popular game bird throughout North Carolina until the 1980s, when a decline in their numbers made them much harder to find. A combination of factors is believed to be responsible. Not only have open woodlands and agricultural fields with hedgerows become scarcer, but ground predators such as foxes, coyotes, raccoons and free-roaming cats have increased. Also, the timing of rainfall can significantly affect breeding productivity. Too much rain too early may inundate nests and result in abandonment. Dry conditions just after chicks hatch may result in insufficient food.

Currently, quail season runs from late November through early April. Hunters may well find coveys in the forests and fields of state game lands such as the Sandhills Game Lands. They also can be found on Fish and Wildlife Service refuge lands in the coastal plain. The vast acreage of longleaf pine on Fort Bragg supports quail as well. It requires a well-trained bird dog and a good deal of patience.

Active quail management in parts of the Piedmont and Sandhills over the past couple of decades has paid off. Opening up forested habitat, using prescribed burning as well as replanting undesirable vegetation with quality cover plants are two of the best strategies to help boost the population. Efforts in the Sandhills by biologists with the N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission and at Fort Bragg, along with assistance from local Quail Unlimited chapters, are resulting in gradual increases in northern bobwhite. If the trend continues, before much longer the whistled call of the bobwhite will be more frequent.  PS

Susan Campbell would love to receive your wildlife sightings and photos. She can be contacted by email at susan@ncaves.com.

Bookshelf

Bookshelf

Home
Tag Archives: Department

November Bookshelf

FICTION

The Unfinished Work: A Novel of Abraham Lincoln,
by Jeff Shaara

“It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.” — The Gettysburg Address, 1863. Shaara, who is renowned for his body of work exploring the conflicts and personalities surrounding key moments in American history, turns his attention to Abraham Lincoln, one of the most consequential figures during one of the most critical points in American history. Beginning with Lincoln’s election as president in 1860, through his time in the Oval Office, Shaara reveals the complexities behind the man who refused to let the deep divisions and conflicting emotions permanently sunder the country itself.

Peregrine Hill, by Nina de Gramont

At the dawn of the 20th century, widow Isabelle Bishop still believes in love, but she knows only money can save her. After losing her husband and three of her children in a shipwreck, she has one chance to rescue all that remains of her family — her daughter Mariah and her elderly mother. When Isabelle captures the attention of John Whitten, one of New York’s wealthiest men, she dares to hope that fortune might finally favor her. But Whitten’s interest is not in Isabelle — it’s in 18-year-old Mariah, still reeling from a romantic but disastrous scandal. When Whitten discovers the secret mother and daughter have tried to keep buried, he uses it to his advantage, threatening to expose them unless Mariah accepts his proposal. For the sake of their survival, Isabelle makes a devil’s bargain: She will urge her daughter into a marriage she knows could destroy her. Mariah quickly realizes her husband’s home is a gilded cage. Finding an unexpected ally in her ambitious maid, Hetty, she dares to imagine a life beyond her constricted world. Together, they risk everything to claim a measure of power and self-determination in a world that attempts to deny them both.

NONFICTION

Going the Distance: Stallone, Philly, and the Story of Rocky,
by Mike Sielski

Armed with his intimate knowledge of Philadelphia’s texture, culture and history, Sielski delivers the definitive account of the film’s making, the factors that drove Sylvester Stallone to write and star in it, and its everlasting emotional connection to Philadelphia. Stripping away the myths about Rocky, it traces how and why it came to be made, and reveals fresh details and anecdotes that will surprise even the film’s biggest fans. Through extensive research and exclusive insights from some of the movie’s legendary collaborators — including producer Irwin Winkler and composer Bill Conti — Sielski tells Rocky’s story in a completely new way, showing Stallone’s rise from an aimless kid to an ambitious artist, one who was willing to do whatever he had to do to succeed in Hollywood. This is more than a book about a movie on its 50th anniversary, it’s a fascinating ride all its own.

The Nuremberg Women: The Untold Story of the Eight Women Who Brought the Nazis to Justice,
by Natalie Livingstone

In November 1945, the eyes of the world turned to Nuremberg, Germany. Humanity was seeking not only the truth about Nazi crimes but also a vision of what justice might look like in their aftermath. The trials are traditionally associated with a roll call of famous men, but they were only part of the story. Not only were there women involved in the trial in every role — as journalists, researchers, lawyers, interpreters, court reporters, witnesses, artists and even defendants — but they were pivotal in the trial’s outcome. The Nuremberg Women tells the story of eight women: a brilliant American lawyer; three pioneering journalists; an iconoclastic artist; a beautiful refugee aristocrat; a dauntless survivor of Auschwitz; and a young Russian translator. They demonstrate that the trial was remarkable not because it was perfect but because, against all odds, it happened. Thanks to these women and many others, justice was served.

CHILDREN’S BOOKS

Berry and the Mushrooms, by Dev Petty

Nature is all about balance — and in winter, it’s time to rest. But when a strange blue moon rises in the sky, it brings out the cutest, weirdest mushrooms the forest has ever seen! Their aggressively adorable chatter wakes hibernating bears Glen and Berry. While Glen worries these peculiar plants and the “mushmoon” that summoned them are a sign nature is out of whack, Berry adopts the vivacious newcomers as pets. With the mushrooms’ motivations murky at best, will they mean the end of Glen and Berry’s friendship — and, possibly, the end of Glen and Berry? (Ages 4 – 8.)

The Wondrous Tale of Lavender Wolfe, by Karen Foxlee

Lavender Wolfe’s world is small: her mother, the pockets they pick together, and the wharf where they scrape by day to day. But when Lavender is left waiting on the harbor steps, she is swept aboard the Good Marchioness — a magical pirate ship unlike any other. The ship’s cook, Big Agatha, insists Lavender has been abandoned. Worse, she says Lavender has magic. Now renamed Hans Whitby and recruited as a kitchen rat, Lavender finds herself among a crew of extraordinary children, a captain with a wing instead of an arm, a ghost-fetcher, a mysterious shell that was once a boy, and a curse that threatens to turn everyone aboard into sand. To break the curse, the crew must recover a stolen treasure before time runs out. As Lavender is drawn deeper into the ship’s secrets, she begins to wonder whether she has truly been stolen — or whether she has finally found where she belongs. (Ages 8 – 12.)

Compiled by Kimberly Daniels Taws, manager of The Country Bookshop

Southwords

Southwords

Home
Tag Archives: Department

Kin and Kindred

It’s all relative

By Emilee Phillips

Illustration by Miranda Glyder

Like most kids with an inseparable best friend, I dreamed of my chosen sister somehow becoming my real sister. One Thanksgiving it almost happened . . . or so we thought.

With a nod to the holidays, Zoé and I were like mashed potatoes and gravy. Growing up we did everything together. Our parents swapped us out every weekend, her house, then mine, then hers. Looking back, it may have been as much for their convenience as ours, but never mind — we were together. Living in a small town came with perks; everyone was nearby.

One year, a close friend of my father’s invited my family over for a Thanksgiving lunch potluck. I was around 13 and would’ve preferred hanging out with my own friends, though Johnny’s house was always a favorite of mine. It was down the road from our house, kind of a country cottage straight out of a children’s storybook complete with chickens running amok, an outdoor kitchen just for fun, and lush landscaping because everything he planted grew. I spent a good bit of time there as a kid, mostly because Johnny couldn’t possibly harvest all the ever-ripening crops from his gardens fast enough, and an extra pair of hands was always welcome. I’m sure those gardens account for my endless love of fresh cucumbers, straight off the vine.

That Thanksgiving we arrived with a dish in hand to add to the array of folding tables covered with fresh Southern foods set up on Johnny’s lawn. There were a lot of people I didn’t recognize, and my folks began mingling right away. Out of nowhere a girl ran up behind me and grabbed my arm as if she was ready to yank me out of the way to get to a Black Friday deal — you know, pre-internet. I spun around before my fight-or-flight kicked in and it was Zoé. My Zoé.

“OH MY GOD ARE WE ACTUALLY RELATED? I KNEW IT!” she exclaimed.

Before I realized what was happening, Zoé’s grandmother materialized right beside her. What were the odds we both got invited to the same cookout and had no idea that the other would be there? Zero.

The potluck was actually a family reunion, and Zoé had made the leap to genealogical hyperspace. Her grandma — we call her Nini —was explaining how she was distantly related to Johnny. We were too busy giggling to fully understand what cousin was removed from what other cousin to make the lineage make sense. It didn’t need to, because in those parts you usually just said you were kin to someone and that was that.

I think it was my father who burst Zoé’s (and my) bubble, explaining how we were no relation at all, we were just the friends who made the invite list. Johnny was amused. Zoé had never been to his cottage before that day, at least not that she could remember. In a way, I had more of a claim on Johnny than she did.

Lunch was served and, naturally, Zoé and I took our seats next to each other, plotting ways to become real sisters — or cousins-in-law (we weren’t picky).

To the dismay of our 13-year-old selves, we didn’t end up marrying brothers or finding some other loophole to link our family trees, but we are still best friends. And her son is going to call me Aunt Em — as soon as he learns how to talk.

We’re family, no matter how you slice it.  PS

Emilee Phillips is PineStraw’s director of social media and digital content.