"I'm from up North.....North Carolina that is" (Part 1 ?)

Early this fall I took a trip to the National Fire Academy in Emmitsburg Md. I was surprised to see friends from NC I have met over the years I have spent in Fire, Rescue and EMS also there taking classes, it was kind of like having a little bit of good ol' North Carolina up there with me. I also saw some folks that where there from other parts of the country that I have met in classes I have taken up there. That is one of the great things about taking classes of that caliber in different parts of the country, meeting people with common interest and goals from around the country, or world even. At dinner one night I was talking to some of my new friends from pretty much all over the US about their Fire, Rescue and EMS services and the impact of networking with other professionals helps because it shows us that we all have similar problems and together we can find answers to some of those problems. Then it happened, it always does, we started talking about the regions of the country we are from and they bring up my accent and say something like, "Joe we could at tell where you are from when you opened your mouth the first time." 

In most classes that I have attended you have to stand up and tell who you are, what you do , and where you are from. I have started telling people, "If you can't tell by my accent, I am from up North......... North Carolina that is...." I do this to make an attempt to break the ice with people and to pick at myself a bit to show that I try not to take myself too serious. This brings me to the point of this rambling mess. People always comment on my true, honest and no frills way of speaking.

 God saw fit for me to to be born in the Southeastern part of NC. I take great pride in that fact. I also take pride in the fact that we have our own way of speaking in the south. If you listen carefully you can tell where some one is from in NC just by their accent or subtle changes in dialect. People from the eastern part of the state say things a bit different than people from the western part of the state. Most of us born and raised in NC have similar accents but to us it is as obvious as the preference in the sauce we like on our Bar B Que pork. (You pretty much have to be from NC to know that there is a difference, Tomato based in the west and vinegar and peppers in the east.)

I have often told people that I know proper English, I just chose not to use it. I prefer to use the honest and sometimes quite humorous little southern sayings that I grew up with. I use words and praises like, "fixen to" meaning I am about to do something. I like the little sayings to describe things, people or situations, for example, "she was mad as a wet settin' hen" or "I'm finer than a frog hair split three ways." Meaning "she was pretty angry" and "I am doing fine, how are you?" I think this way of speaking is like playing Jazz, you should only do it if you know how. Some one "trying" to talk with a southern accent hurts my ears, and you can always tell because non-southerners keep using the word "ya'll" in the singular. No true southerner would ever use the word "ya'll" unless they were referring to more than one person.

As you may have read in another post of mine, I know that people often hear a Southern accent and equate it with ignorance. Those of you that live here and love it here know this is far from the truth. Just look at the internationally known medical centers and centers for higher learning UNC, Duke, Wake Forrest just to name a few here in NC. Not all southern folk are dumb redneck hillbillies some are pretty smart and quite literate (eg.Welty, Williams, Faulkner). The slower drawn out NC accent is just a reflection to a slower and simpler time.

I guess we just need to be proud of where are from as well as proud of who we are. If you are from New England or the Midwest or out on the West Coast you should be proud of it and embrace how being from there has helped shape you to be. This is probably the first of a few blogs about being raised in NC and the south in general. If you like what you are reading, leave a comment.

A Tale of Two Christmases

I wrote this a couple of years back for an assignment for school. It was before my wife's "Granny" passed away and and she is missed during this season so this is for "Granny Byrd" and everyone we all miss during this special holiday.

A Tale of Two Christmases

Last year I spent some quality time reading the Charles Dickens story A Christmas Carol. My reading started the wheels in my head turning and thinking about what the Ghost of Christmas Past and Present would have to show me. I love the holidays as an adult almost as much as I did as a child. Christmas is a magical time meant for children, family and love.

I picture the Ghost of Christmas Past taking me to my mom and dad’s house on Christmas Eve. The smells from the kitchen would make my mouth water and my belly growl. My face would be chapped from being outside hunting all day with my dad and the rest of the men in the family. Mom would be in a rush trying to get us all ready to go to Aunt Rosa’s for the family’s Christmas gathering. The only worries on my mind were gifts and what was for supper.

Aunt Rosa’s house is where mom’s whole family would gather for Christmas Eve to eat supper and exchange gifts. The gathering involved singing religious carols, children delighting in the splendor of the evening and don’t forget the food. The amount of southern style food on that table boggles the mind. I gain weight just thinking of the desert table. After the meal, everyone would exchange gifts. I can still feel the excitement as the night would draw to an end, and we would pack up the gifts and mom and dad would talk of the coming of Santa Claus. The ride home was only a few miles, but it felt like forever. I imagine the Ghost of Christmas Past would carry me back home to watch my mom and dad try to corral my older sister and me into bed so Santa could come.

Christmas morning would start by Mom and Dad getting up early and making breakfast. I imagine the meal was mostly for them to gather their strength for the rest of the morning to come. Dad and I went deer hunting every Christmas, so the gift giving came early. Mom would hand out the presents. Dad would take pictures and help with the one big gift that Santa would leave under the tree. The rest of the day was spent hunting with dad. Taking me hunting was Dad’s way of spending quality time with me that I will never forget.

The ghost of Christmas present has a hard act to follow. As in the Dickens novel, the spirit and I travel to my Uncle Jessie’s house for Christmas Eve. The family moved the gathering to his house because it is bigger and the family has grown quite large. Some of the faces have changed, but the night remains much the same. I am one of the grown-ups now and see the wonder and amazement of the magical night in the eyes of my son. The women of the family still cook too much food, and the family still exchanges gifts. The night consists of singing, eating and the love that only comes from family.  

My wife and I get up early and eat breakfast to gain our strength for the day to come. My favorite time of the day begins when Logan emerges from his bedroom. The excitement and wonder in his face is enough to make any father smile. Like the days of my childhood, Angela passes out the gifts while I take pictures. Santa leaves Logan one big gift every year.

Angela starts preparing food to take to Granny Byrd’s house. Once again, the wonderful smells of food fill my home.  The rest of the day is spent at the home of my wife’s grandmother. Angela’s family gathers there to eat, exchange gifts and be with each other as a family.

My tale of two Christmases may not be exciting enough to base a novel on, but the Ghosts of Christmas Past and Present would find an enduring theme. There is no Ebenezer Scrooge in my family; only folks like Bob Cratchit.  Christmas in my family is about the birth of Christ, the wonder of childhood and the love of a wonderful family.

Yes Ma’am, Manners Do Matter

Some time ago I wrote this for a class and it is not the kind of stuff usally write, but I it made me laugh when I read it again.

Yes Ma’am, Manners Do Matter

            I was sitting with my wife in a nice restaurant some time back. I consider a restaurant that uses cloth napkins a nice place. We were enjoying each-other’s company and a nice meal. The meal was ruined by the loud “honking” of grown man blowing his nose in one of those cloth napkins. My thoughts suddenly turned away from the nice meal and wonderful conversation. The conversation turned to how people seem to have, as my mother would say, “lost their manners.” I was taught that if you must blow your nose to excuse yourself and go the rest room. I have been told that I am being too sensitive, but it appears to me that manners are quickly becoming a thing of the past.

            I know that I am as Southern as grits and sweet iced tea, but growing up in Southeastern North Carolina it was correct to say, “Yes ma’am” and “No ma’am.” It is also advised to use please and thank you. The punishment for not using common courtesy, while talking to adults, would have surely included a trip to the switch bush and walking with a serious limp. We also use words like y’all, used in the plural and never the singular. The phrase fixin’ to is used to say, “I am about to…” It was acceptable to use such words and phrases around home, but we were also taught to use correct grammar.  Many people from other regions of the United States, with different accents, equate a Southern accent with ignorance or an uneducated person. Southerners may never live this stereotype down, but we are some of the most polite people on the planet.

My family was serious about manners, and there were different sets of manners for each situation. It was important to know how to talk to people and to get your point across in a polite way. Knowing how to act around other people was also important. The set of rules varied with each situation. Table manners were especially important in public places or when we had company over. Mom made us practice table manners even if we didn’t have company. “No need to act like a bunch of heathens, just because we don’t have company,” Mom would say. Most table manners were basic courtesy. The rule about gross noises at the table rule is a good example of basic courtesy. The no gross noise rule should be self-explanatory. It was also considered extremely rude to talk with food in your mouth or smack your food. Knowing which fork to use or what to do with each glass has never been the most important part of table manners, but treating each other with respect is the main focus.

I am teaching my son the importance of using manners when talking to adults. This translates later in life to showing respect to authority figures and those who are older than we are. I still say, “Yes sir” to my father, unlike a friend who is from north of the Mason Dixon line who feels that it is too formal to call her mom Ma’am or her dad Sir. I feel that this shows them I respect and love them.

 My dad told me long ago, “A little courtesy will take you far in life.” An old saying I have often quoted is, “You can catch more flies with sugar than vinegar.” The point I am trying to make is we are letting our children and grandchildren down, if we don’t teach them manners. They will need manners later in life when applying for a job or trying to find a mate. The best way to teach manners is to set the example and use them ourselves.

Mr. Wilson's Store

Mr. Wilson’s Store

  Mr. Martin Wilson was a man that went to our church in the little town I grew up in. The town was so small that there were few buildings in the

Main street

area. One building that grew near to my heart was a small, outdated gas station and grocery store. The town was not big enough to support a chain grocery store, so Mr. Wilson sold most everything you would need right there  in his little store, much like the old general stores I remember reading about in western novels. Mr. Wilson sold leaded and unleaded gas, most any grocery item you might need such as bread or milk. He even sold some hardware. Mr. Wilson sold many things at his old store, but the most important things he gave away.  

 One of my best memories of childhood was standing in front of a candy counter lined with big glass containers of candy and my Dad helping me to pick out a bag full of candy to take home. Mr. Wilson’s store offered what we called nickel and dime candy much like the old stores one might read about. After picking out what I wanted we would sit down and have a Coke, out of one of those old small 6 oz Coke bottles. It was sitting in the corner that I learned what really happened in that old store and it had more to do with life than buying or selling gasoline.

    Most accounts state that Mr. Wilson opened his store in the 1950’s. From that time on the families in the small town could buy anything they needed there like any other store but Mr. Wilson offered credit to those who could not pay. It was told, after his death, that many children would have gone to bed hungry if it had not been for Mr. Wilson. Those who could pay him paid when they could.

   There was more to that store than being supplied with material things that one could buy. Mr. Wilson was a man with strong convictions and a natural love for his fellow man. He along with others from the town started the town’s first Rescue Squad to care for the sick and injured of the area. Martin Wilson and his wife Ruby were strong influences in the church and community not so much by what they said but how they lived their lives.

  I like many kids waited on the school bus under the little shed in front of the store. Mr. Wilson would tell me stories of when my mom and dad were young. He would also tell stories that were entertaining but taught a lesson. I didn’t know it then but he was teaching us about living a good life. I never asked for anything while waiting for the ride to school but it seamed that most of the time I left for school with a piece of bubble gum or a jaw breaker that he had given me.

   I have talked with people over the years about him and have never heard anyone say anything but good things. The reoccurring theme has been the way he not only talked to people about Jesus and living a good life but he was a living example of a “good man”. The Preacher that conducted the funeral service for Mr. Wilson said that he was told, “The only way you can mess up this service is to say anything bad about this man.”

  In the little store in Tar Heel North Carolina this man made an honest living for his family. He fed, clothed and educated 6 children. He sold things that families needed everyday. He provided a service that the little town needed. The important things that came out of that store were given away. He gave people a way to feed a family when they had no money. He gave us a place to wait for the bus to school out of the cold. The most important thing he gave us was a good example. 

Random thoughts and quotes

One or two of these are my thoughts and some are quotes. The quotes are random and credit is given to who said or wrote it.

Sometimes I think the stress is more than I can take, sometimes the rewards are more than my brain can comprehend. But sometimes all it takes is knowing you did what you can do as good as you can do it. -me

Some people are lighthouses, some are ships at sea. –me

“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear. ~Ambrose Redmoon

“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers but to be fearless in facing them. Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it. Let me not look for allies in life's battlefield but to my own strength. Let me not cave in.”-Rabindranath Tagore

Lord take me where you want me to go
Let me meet who you want me to meet
tell me what you want me to say
and keep me out of your way.- Father. Mychal Judge

“Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing. Use the pain as fuel, as a reminder of your strength.”

Enough for now, be safe