There’s a Kind of Hush

There was a hush in the world this morning.  Darkness as I slipped out of my house. It was the kind of quiet you dream about.  It allows for prayer.  For reflection.  For thoughtfulness.

Today is 9/11.  I said a prayer for the families of those who died on that terrible day. I thought of the people who were caught up in this microcosm of our world… those of all faiths.  Good people.  Bad people.  And, just the ordinary run-of-the-mill people.  There was probably a guy named John who commuted in that morning reading his newspaper.  He took the elevator up to his office.  He probably had just made himself a cup of coffee…

And then he died.

I read a line somewhere that hundreds of people had packed for travel that morning and were never given the chance to unpack.  There were children who never grew up to graduate from college, get married, raise children of their own, or to make their own contribution to the world.

Yesterday, I had lunch with Rick.  We worked together on the original 9/11.  I said, “Do you remember being at the office?” 

He said, “Yes.  Someone had a tv.  Who was it?”  I remembered the TV, but couldn’t recall who had it on.

We were all transfixed.  Just as we were for the Challenger disaster.  Watching the explosion and devastation over and over again as reporters swept through the scenes of that awful destruction.

I was in shock.  I couldn’t breathe or speak or sleep for a week.  From then on, whatever bubble of innocence was left to us in America was burst. 

To this day, I can’t fathom the evil that lives in this world.  We are all people… just people.  The mass killings aren’t a thing of survival.  Nothing drives them other than the desire of one person to see another person die.

I know religious friends that would like to tie this one onto Islam as a whole.  But, I know very good Muslim people.  And, I know that the evil ones want to think that all Christians or all Americans or all women are bad and need to be rooted out.  But, we are not all one person.  We give more than any other nation to charity and to humanitarian efforts.  As you kill off the people who do these things, you lessen the good and heighten the risk of ultimate chaos.

My one thread of hope in all of this resides in my faith that if I hold strong and do good and if others do good, we will overcome.  I remember a game in my childhood called Red Rover.  Two teams would stand in a line facing each other, arms entwined.  One team would yell, “Red Rover, Red Rover, let (whoever) come over.”  One person from the other team would charge and try to break between two people on the opposing team.  If the hold held, the runner had to join the opposing team.  If the hold broke, one of that team had to join the runner’s team. 

We can’t break our hold, folks.  We can’t descend into that blackness. The following is from my favorite book.  The story revolves around children fighting against evil to retrieve their father with the help of some very interesting creatures.

“Itt iss Eevill…"
"What is going to happen?"
"Wee wwill cconnttinnue tto ffightt!"…
"And we’re not alone, you know, children," came Mrs.Whatsit, the comforter. "…some of the best fighters have come from your own planet…"
"Who have our fighters been?" Calvin asked.
"Oh, you must know them, dear," Mrs.Whatsit said. Mrs.Who’s spectacles shone out at them triumphantly.

"And the light shineth in the darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.” 

― Madeleine L'Engle, A Wrinkle in Time: With Related Readings

Trip to Yesterday

Austin, November 2011

I’ve just returned from my trip to North Carolina and thought I’d blog a bit about it.  Some bits were cool, some spooky, some enlightening…

To give you a brief background, my father was born in a small town called Altapass (which no longer exists) outside of the teeming metropolis (hah!) of Spruce Pine, North Carolina.  Spruce Pine sits high atop a ridge of mountains running through the Smokys/Blue Ridge/Appalachians.  No one could really tell me where one range stopped and the other started. 

Anyway, my grandfather (a chemist for a local mining company) and my grandmother lived in a small house they built in 1932.  My grandfather was a Wiseman from the Grassy Creek clan of Wisemans (I’m told there’s another set of them in Avery county).

The Wiseman name is kind of famous in that area.  There’s Mac Wiseman, the bluegrass singer (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mac_Wiseman).  As well as Scotty and Lulubelle Wiseman (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lulu_Belle_and_Scotty).  There’s also a mountaintop named after us called Wiseman’s View (http://www.romanticasheville.com/linville_gorge.htm).

According to the North Carolina Gazetteer, which was first published in 1968 by William S. Powell and updated and revised by William S. Powell and Michael Hill in 2009, Wiseman’s View was named after William Wiseman who was an early settler from London in the 1700s.

But mostly, the Wisemans are humble folks.  My grandfather was Guy Stokes Wiseman and he married Monnie Belle Piercy (from the Daybook area near Burnsville).

Dad was born in 1934 just after the Depression and prior to WWII.  He was an only child, but from all counts, not spoiled at all.  In fact, my grandmother (Nana, as I called her) once lamented that she thought they may have been too hard on him.  But, dad never lacked for people his age to hang around with.  Nana had five brothers and sisters. 

My grandfather (Pop) had eight brothers and sisters.

Next door to dad, his aunt Lena (who married Coy Wiseman) raised her girls.  Dad was very close to that part of the family.

2011

We arrived at the Charlotte airport midday on Thursday.  Cousin Lucy (Lena and Coy's daughter), her husband Harold, and daughter Cindy met us for lunch at the local Cracker Barrel.  It was a lovely lunch and Lucy and her family were just delightful. :)

Afterward, Mom, dad, and I drove up to the mountains.  It was a short, but scenic trip.  The trees were beginning to look bare at the higher altitudes, but down below all was still gold, red, and green.  The days were cool, but clear, and we were all set to have a lovely time at the reunion.  We stayed at the Hampton Inn in Marion, NC as Spruce Pine really has no hotels to speak of.  Marion is about 20 miles downhill from Spruce Pine.

For the most part, we rested on Thursday.  Friday was going to be our real sight-seeing day.  We got up and tried the full breakfast offered by Hampton Inn.  It was shameful, really.  Pre-packaged sandwiches and omelets that you microwaved.  The rest of the trip, we opted for Waffle House!  Afterward, we began the trek up the mountain, beyond the Parkway, and into Spruce Pine.  The first stop was Walmart to get flowers to decorate some family graves.  Walmart had very few flowers at that time of the year/morning, so we were stuck with potted pansies.  Nana would've liked those, though.  She always had pansies in her garden.

Next stop became Woody's chair shop.  Woody's has been in business for several generations.  They make hardy north carolina rocking chairs and such.  It was cool that morning, and we appreciated the stove-heated sales room.  Chatted with some of the Woody descendents (whose shop is right around the corner from where dad grew up on Dale Road).  They chatted a bit with dad about family and we headed out from there.

Around the corner from Woody's, the road bends up and left.  About 1/4 mile down is a small family cemetery known as Greenlee.  That is where many of my ancestors are buried.  We laid the flowers out, but it was too cold to stay for long.

We then went downhill and took the road that runs just in front of Woody's to see the house where dad grew up.  It still stands, though Lena and Lucy's house was demolished when some mining activity took over the space where it had stood.

We spent some time going to Penland, a crafts school that Nana used to take me to when I was a kid. The drive to and from was breathtaking.

Mom and dad wanted to do the drive up to where the family reunion was to be held, so we took off in that direction.  Man! You want to talk about a scary drive!  The place was at Beverly's mountain getaway off of Apple Lane.  It's a one way road up and round and round.  We finally found the place and the driveway went straight down! I don't know that I could have backed out even with the 4x4 jeep we had!  We gingerly went back down the hill and wondered how everyone was going to fit their cars in this tiny/steep driveway.

My brother Mike (aka Michael Bryan Raisins) joined us for lunch in downtown Spruce Pine.  Mom had a restaurant in mind called the Fork and Knife.  As it turns out, this is a hoity toity, French Cuisine kinda place.  My family are typically more the meat and potatoes types.  And, even myself - with all my travels - found it a bit pretentious.  When I asked for something healthy rather than the side of fries, they asked what I wanted. "Green beans?" I said in a small voice.  "Let me tell you what this restaurant is all about," began the waitress. And she launched into "fresh, organic, different, her husband was a *real* chef"... etc etc.

Oh well.  It did give me a chance to show mom and dad how you drink coffee from a french press. :)

My brother Mike, it turns out, is delightfully interested in our family history.  Dad showed him the old cinema where he had been a projectionist in the 40s.  Mike *really* wanted to go up to Wiseman's View, and even though I'm sure mom and dad were exhausted, they made the trip over to Linville and Newland to find it. The roads were paved much better than Dad and I remembered, so the trip was not too shabby.  Dad wasn't well enough to make the 1/4 mile trek from the parking lot to the View, but Mike and I did go.  It was Mike's first time. I've probably been up there four or five times.  The views are stunning.

Back then...

Dad grew up.  As a teenager, he worked at his grandfather's farm, at home (digging a basement for his parents), and sparking some girlfriend named Joyce (go figger). :)  He also worked as a projectionist at the local movie theater.

When it came time to go to college, dad wasn't sure where he was going to go.  He attended Western Carolina and NC State before deciding on a small Quaker school in Greensboro called Guilford.  His parents had moved to Greensboro as his father's job changed, so it seemed a good idea.

Little did he know that he would meet "piddle pot/fizzle tail" in class.  Her name was Margaret Payne Withers, and when they shared classes, they typically sat near each other due to their last names beginning with the same letter of the alphabet.

Margaret/Peggy came from Emory, VA and had moved to NC when her father's teaching job took him to High Point College. Guilford was close and relatively inexpensive at the time, so it was a good match for her ideal college situation.

How the two managed to find common ground is a mystery.  Mom loved music, the arts, sports, and hanging out with her friends.  Dad was an engineer, didn't care a lot for sports, and was a loner much of the time.  He was working to put himself through college, so he had little time for partying as he was holding down two jobs while going to class and trying to graduate!  He was interested in ham radio and flying as hobbies.

However, the two did manage to hit it off, they met (and fell in love with) each others' families.  And, finally, tied the knot on December 23, 1956.

*****

I decided the road to the reunion was just too scary, so Mike took mom and dad to the reunion while I went sightseeing.  Oh, and what a day I had!  I spent the first part of it in the little town of Crossnore at the weaving school/store.  It was a lovely little town and close enough to Grandfather Mountain that I decided to make the trip.  I wanted to go to that Mile High bridge I'd seen and heard so much about!

But, I finally gave in and decided to go to the reunion.  I was glad I did, because I met so many family members I didn't even know I had!  I also ate the best green beans I ever had (thanks to distant cousin Sharon), and sat in on the group pictures.

All in all, it was a great reunion and a wonderful visit.

Mike had to leave the following morning, so we ate our usual breakfast at Waffle House and then went our separate ways.  Since we had nothing really planned for Sunday, we went out to Burnsville in search of the Piercy family farm.  Well, I say Burnsville - it was really in a suburb of Burnsville called Daybook.

We took every back road Dad could think of before we finally found "Piercy Road."  We took it, but found that it was owned by an equestrian business called Equinection (http://www.equinection.org/). Sadly, none of the buildings Dad would have recalled were in existence.

We decided to go grab a bite of lunch before going home.  Dad recommended a trip down a back road through a beautiful little town called Little Switzerland.  Much of the townlet was closed for the winter season, but we found the little cafe there open (it was actually the last day it was open!).  We had a lovely lunch complete with hot apple cider.  YUM!


Cafe

We left, sadly, for the hotel... knowing our trip was coming to an end.

I can only say that I learned a lot. I had a chance to enjoy my parents (alone and to myself, for the most part!) for the better part of a week.  I couldn't have asked for a better vacation!

 

More information on the Wiseman Coat of Arms and the Wiseman History

http://www.houseofnames.com/wiseman-coat-of-arms