One-Man Band
February always brings back memories
Laid out pretty much the same as it’s been for well over 100 years, the Old Courthouse Square in our hometown remains the epicenter of our little western North Carolina county. Even with the new Hwy 64 by-pass, local social activities seem to always migrate toward “The Square” in Hayesville.
Some things changed over the years, but the shopping options for goods and services seem to always evolve. Tiger’s store on one corner has been there for 150 years. It’s also where we used to buy our groceries in the ‘50s, before they spun off those commodities to bigger stores in both Hayesville and Hiawassee, GA. Though no longer selling groceries, Tiger’s draws folks today with their surprising array of trendy dry goods.
The hotel that Wiley McGlamery built in 1940 on Herbert Street closed years ago, and the building mostly stood empty for many years.
Recently the county’s historical revitalization association, who totally restored the Old Courthouse, purchased the hotel building for their next major project.
These extremely dedicated private citizens intend to work their magic to restore/replace the hotel, much like they did with the Old Courthouse a few years ago. Private donations fund their projects, with one major donor being a high school buddy who did extremely well after college in business in Tennessee.
In my early years the hotel also housed the Farmers’ Federation supply store, selling feed, fertilizer, hardware, and other farm-related items. Agriculture represented the major revenue source in Clay County at that time.
By the end of February, Dad, Granddad, and our farming neighbors always gathered around the Federation’s coal burning stove to compare notes on spring planting, whether they had enough homegrown livestock feed to last until pastures begins to green up, who was running for sheriff this year, and other very serious subjects.
Memories of the Farmers’ Federation annual picnic still sticks out in my mind, which brings up the main subject of this post. I don’t recall that it was an actual picnic, but the big attraction for most kids had to be the one-man band who always participated in the show. No idea where he came from, but he faithfully showed up for that occasion. Amazed to see him toot, bang, and clatter through another performance, we looked forward to his performance every year.
On the other hand, February also brings the terrible memory of the darkest day of our lives. Our son passed away that month in 2005, and none of us are ever very far from thoughts of him no matter what time of year, day, or night it is.
Bert was a bit of a one-man band himself. A natural artist and keen student of human nature, he loved to hike up alone on our local stretch of the Appalachian Trail, sit down on a big rock, and spend the day chatting with the thru hikers as they passed by.
As anyone who has experienced great loss knows, the deep pain never goes away. But it does dim a bit with time. The words of this old Ray Price love song usually bring me some temporary peace:
“…They let me close my eyes just then those healing hands of time
And soon they'll let me sleep again those healing hands of time…”
Beside our memories, the one good thing that came from his death is his fully endowed memorial scholarship fund at Young Harris College. He loved taking their art classes; paintings his teachers shared with us from that time are among his very best. He cherished all matter of art, whether it was traditional Japanese pottery from his mother’s hometown, unique designs from our local world-class glass blower, Granny Groves’ oil paintings, or Cherokee arrowheads from very long ago.
Every year we get a letter from his college announcing the winner of this year’s scholarship. Thanks to the generous donations of extended family and friends, about twenty Young Harris students have been helped since it was established. We usually get a follow-on letter from the winning student thanking us for the financial help. The most touching of which came from a young lady who said, “I could not have finished college without this money.”
Bert would have liked that.