The past still lives on back roads
By Tom Poland The past lives in a rural version of an assisted living center for a parallel exists between elders and the sights along back roads. A lot of people live out their final days in homes these days. Unless you have reason to visit them, they are invisible. Like a society you never see they nonetheless are there. The sights along back roads remain out of sight too unless you drive by them. It’s like a country you’ll never...
Living on the West End (Fires of March)
Editor’s note: This is a reprint of a column Bill Shepard wrote last year. By Bill Shepard Ah, those merciless fires of March! They still burn inside the mind of this old writer, and the sounds of the March winds whistling through the treetops cause me to shiver. I remember them both all too well. By the time I had reached the tender age of 12, I had developed a dread of seeing the leaf on the calendar turn to the month of March. I...
Living on the West End: Kite season
By Bill Shepard “In like a lamb, out like a lion; and if in like a lion, out like a lamb.” I heard- that old saying when I was a boy. March is just around the corner; by the time this article reaches the newspaper, March will have arrived! This writer welcomes March with mixed feelings. Daylight Savings Time arrives early in March, but the jury is still out as to whether the continuation of that practice, begun during World War II, is...
The grandest slate of all
By Tom Poland Rocks preserve our feelings, record important things, and tell others that someone dear once walked this green Earth. To the dismay of some, rocks commemorate unjust wars but they’ve also elucidated and educated us. Teachers wrote on slate blackboards and students wrote on slate tablets in the famed little one-room red schoolhouse when penmanship mattered. Rocks give us a way to express emotions. I see boulders spray...
I remember Feb. 18, 1942
By Bill Shepard There is a lot of space between the years 1942 and 2020. Feb. 18, 2020, will be history by the time this story reaches the readers. Seventy-eight years is a long time to remember anything and especially, in the clarity and detail, as I recall the happenings on that Feb. 18, 1942. Yes, I remember. Just mention the name Don Tunstall in any group of old Darlingtonians and there is a good chance there will be some who...
A genuine barber shop
By Tom Poland My great-uncle cut my hair when I was growing up in Lincolnton, Ga. That would be Waymon Walker, Granddad’s brother. Walker’s Barbershop of white concrete blocks stood on the corner of Highway 378 and Main and stands still, though forest green now. To this day I see Uncle Waymon working his straight razor on a leather strop. I see too colorful and fragrant bottles of tonic lined against the mirror. I was just a little...