Rambling to Tennessee: Part 1, The Island

by Violet Rebecca Jones

Click any picture to enlarge

As you probably know by now, I love the mountains, and anytime I get a chance to go there, I gas up the car and hit the road. This particular mountain rambling took me into Tennessee and the Pigeon Forge/Gatlinburg area. It had been a while since I was last there, so even though it's only a quick trip for me, it was filled with new sights.







    The Island, Pigeon Forge

The first place that I explored was the new shopping and restaurant area called The Island. While this is not really a true island, there is a creek that separates it from the "main drag" area of Pigeon Forge, and it does feel separated from the more antiquated main street.  Much of this area is still under construction, but even  the small portion that is complete is worth a visit. When finished, it will be huge.







Restaurants

Poynor's Pommes Frites

There are many interesting shops, arcades, and restaurants in this area which gave everyone something to do. I only ate some gourmet french fries, but they were awesome. I picked them up at Poynor's Pommes Frites, a German speciality food shop. I ordered them with both a malt vinegar dip and a rosemary/roasted garlic dip that was incredible. I actually went back in for a second container of the rosemary/garlic dip. The fries were served in a cone held in a wire stand...sorry, but I ate them before I remembered to snap a picture...and even though I ordered a small order, the serving was huge.  







The menu listed several items that I wanted to try, but I simply could not hold anything more after the fries. One listing got my attention, spaghetti ice. I have never heard of this, and I want to someday go back to see what this is.

 

Timberwood Grill

There were several other restaurants in the area that looked as if they would have good food. One was The Timberwood Grill, which was packed even in the middle of the day.









Another restaurant that had just opened for business is  Dick's Last Resort. I have heard of  this chain of restaurants, and although I have not eaten at one, I have heard that the outrageous, sarcastic servers make it a truly unique dining experience.

Dick's Last Resort

       

               A new restaurant, scheduled to 

               open this summer, is
               Paula Deen's Family Kitchen.

Dick Leaving the Last Resort

Entertainment

One of the most impressive features of The Island is the 200 ft. high Smokey Mountain Skywheel. While I did not ride this huge ferris wheel because I was on a tight budget ( the price is $12 for three rotations), I am sure it would provide some spectacular views of the surrounding area. Driving back that night from Gatlinburg, I could see the Skywheel from a distance with its constantly changing multi-colored neon lights which truly made The Island seem like a fantasy land. Right beside the Skywheel is a large "cage" where children can bungee jump attached to two bungee cords and standing on a portable trampoline. There were several very young children who were having a ball. The attendant never left their side, so they were well supervised. It made me wish I were a kid again. Although I didn't get a picture, another fun place was a mirror maze. People had to find their way through a maze of mirrors that made the area look as though it were a huge palace although in reality, it was  probably less than 300 square feet. I didn't go through the maze, but they provided a viewing area where visitors could surreptitiously  watch  the participants as they stumbled into mirrors, walls, etc. trying to find their way out of the maze.

Children's Bungee Jump

The neon lights on the Skywheel are constantly changing colors at night.









             

There are also numerous "kiddie" rides
including this charming carousel.

Food Beyond The Island

The Island is not the only place to find good food in Pigeon Forge. Just outside The Island is a great 50's style diner called Happy Days Diner.  It is a very clean, short order type restaurant with great nostalgically themed decor reminiscent  of the 1950's. I ordered a classic cheeseburger and fries that were delicious. Rock and Roll hits of the 50's played in the background, and several of the waitresses would dance as they brought out the plates. It was a light-hearted, fun place to grab a quick lunch.

I had supper ( southern for dinner) that night at a great pizza place called Big Daddy's Wood Fired Pizza. There were at least three locations of Big Daddy's ( Pigeon Forge, Sevierville, and Gatlinburg), but I ate at the one in Pigeon Forge. There is a game arcade for children, and a bar for adults, neither of which were open since I arrived only a few minutes before closing. The pizza is perhaps the best I have ever had. I ordered the Carnivore which contained several types of meat ( I am not vegan, as you can tell, although there were vegan varieties on the menu), and the wood smoked crust was crisp and savory with just a hint of charring without a burned taste...just enough for flavor. I didn't get a picture of the outside of the restaurant, but I did remember to click a picture of a tasty pizza slice. 

In addition to Pigeon Forge, I also traveled through the Ware Valley to Gatlinburg. I will tell you all about that in Rambling to Tennessee , Parts 2 - 4. 

Copyright 2014 by Violet Rebecca Jones

When We Lose Our Parents

by Violet Rebecca Jones

I don't know why I am thinking of this today, but it may be perhaps because I am coping with some difficult things at this point in my life, and I wish that my parents were here to give advice, or maybe even just hug me and tell me things will be okay. In any event, both my parents are deceased, and I must face the world without them. But I am not the only person to miss one's parents. There are many people, many younger than me, who must learn to face the world without the guidance, love, and support of those who first loved them. 

My Grandfather and His Stepmother

My grandfather was one such person, and I don't think he ever stopped missing his mother although he had learned to survive and live a good life  without her. My grandfather's mother died when he was a small boy. She had just given birth to my grandfather's youngest sister, and she left behind several children. His father remarried, but the new wife was resentful of her new, ready-made family although she did go on to have numerous children of her own. The sad fact is that my great-grandfather also seemed to resent, and to neglect, his first set of children.

He would tell of how he and his brothers and sister were made to sleep on an enclosed back porch year round without heat, and would recall how cold it would get during the snowy, bitter cold nights of winter.  Meanwhile his half brothers and sisters would sleep inside the house where there was a fire burning all night.  I remember as a child seeing my grandfather's eyes fill with tears, and a cloud of bitterness come over his face as he told this story. He seemed to especially hurt for the pain it must have caused his tiny little sister.  I will never forget this story, and I have always thought of it anytime I hear of a child being abused or mistreated in any way.  

My grandfather was not a wealthy man, but I remember him saying his life would probably have been very different had his mother lived. His father was well respected, not wealthy, but comfortable enough that my grandfather's half-siblings went on to have lives of reasonable financial comfort. However, even they talked of the coldness of their mother, especially to her stepchildren.

I cannot understand how anyone can harm a child, mistreat a child, or even slight a child in a way that makes them feel unloved, unwanted, or somehow less valuable than others.  Children are special with an innocence that makes them pure. As Jesus said,  "Let the children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven." ( Mark 10:14)  The pain of his mother's death, and the daily abuse he suffered as a child followed my grandfather throughout his life. He grieved for his mother's death, for the fact that she did not get to raise her children with the love she had for them, and the affect her absence had on all their lives.

Hard Work and Trust in God

My grandfather worked hard on rental farms until he was able to buy his own farm in later years when he was really too old to work it properly. However, he and my grandmother were determined to own their own farm, and they accomplished this before they died. This sense of determination has stuck with me all these years, and it has given me the sense that no matter what hardships one goes through, one must persevere. My grandparents survived the tough years of the depression, both world wars, and often scraped by with almost nothing, but they did survive. They never gave up their love of the Lord, and they gave thanks for what little they had. We may not always have want we want, but He will always give us what we need.  My grandparents lived next door to us as I was growing up, so they were a part of my everyday life.  I miss them so much, but my grandfather taught me, through example, that we must go on with life even when we lose those we love. 

Coping

Although my own parents passed away when I was in fairly young adulthood, I still feel very much like an orphan, and I guess that we all become orphans when our parents die, regardless of our age. We are losing the first persons who loved us. The first persons, and sometimes the only persons, we could trust to always have our best interests at heart.  No matter how old we grow, we will miss that. 

How do we ever overcome the loss of such special persons in our lives? Well, I don't think we ever really overcome the loss, and somehow overcoming seems almost as though we are forgetting their existence in our lives. We overcome bad habits, addictions, and disabilities...not love.  However, we can learn to live full, rich lives with our memories, as our parents would want us to do.   I think we will always miss them, and there will be times when we miss them more than other times. If we were lucky enough to have our parents into our adulthood, we carry within us a vast wealth of knowledge we gained from our parents, and in that sense, they never leave us. But their comforting hand when we are sick, worried, or just tired will always be missed, as will their wisdom of years, their understanding, and their caring love. Somehow we just have to take each day, one at a time, and try to get through it, calling upon our parents' imparted wisdom. 

I remember when I first moved away from home, and experienced being very sick for the first time when my mother was not there to hold my hand, bring me soup, or check my fever.  I called her from far away, and told her how I wished she were there. I remember her telling me to just take one of my hands  into the other one and imagine it was her holding my hand. Somehow doing that gave me comfort, and to this day, whenever I feel the need for her, I hold my own hand and pretend it is her; sometimes I almost feel her presence. Perhaps she is there, touching me from heaven.

The following are some books that address this topic, and help one cope with the loss of parents:

1. How to Survive the Loss of a Parent: A Guide for Adults by Lois F. Akner

2. The Orphaned Adult: Understanding and Coping with Grief and Change After the Death of Our Parents by Alexander Levy

3. Mother Grief: A Daughter's Journey from Sorrow to Selfhood by Wende Jowsey

Links to Amazon Books for these titles can be found in the sidebar of this blog. 

Copyright 2014 Violet Rebecca Jones

Hanover House

by Violet Rebecca Jones

Click any picture to enlarge

On the grounds of Clemson University is the South Carolina Botanical Gardens. When one goes to a botanical garden, one expects to see flowers, trees, etc. All that is here (although there is still much repair to be done following last year's flooding). However, nestled in one corner of this natural setting is the Hanover House. One comes upon this house unexpectedly. There is a sharp, hairpin curve, and then there is the house. It is such a beautiful setting that I thought this must be an original settler's house that Clemson chose to preserve. I was only partially correct. The house is not original to the Clemson Campus, but Clemson did choose to preserve it. Apparently, the house was taken down and moved to the Clemson Campus  in the 1940's in order to preserve it when it was threatened by the construction of Lake Moultrie in the Lowcountry of South Carolina. Since Clemson was the site of the architectural school, it was fitting that it be rebuilt on the campus. It was moved from the campus to its current location in the Botanical Gardens in 1994. 

The house was not open for tours on the day I was there although it is open during specified weekend hours. However, the inside of the house is available for viewing online at the following link:  http://www.clemson.edu/about/history/properties/documents/hanover.pdf  The original view of the house can also be found at http://www.nationalregister.sc.gov/pickens/S10817739012/

This house and surrounding farm setting gave me such a sense of peace and calm the day I was there. I  imagined the family that had grown in this house, the lives that it had witnessed, and the journey it had taken to arrive from a coastal region into the foothills of the upstate. I thought of the children who had played inside its walls, and the meals that had been shared. There was almost a sense of love that emanated from its boards and window panes, and it made me want to stay a while.   I think I will find myself rambling to Hanover House again someday. 

Copyright 2014 Violet Rebecca Jones

Bluegrass at the Feed and Seed

by Violet Rebecca Jones

http://www.feedandseednc.com/about.htm 

I love bluegrass music, so when I heard there is a venue that has free bluegrass concerts within fifty miles of me, I knew I had to go.

The Venue

Fletcher Feed & Seed in Fletcher, NC is as "old-time country" as one can get. Located in an old feed and seed store built in 1919, and still bearing many original features including the tin ceiling tiles, the venue is not far from I-26 just outside Asheville, NC.

Click on any photo to enlarge

The building reminded me of the old hardware store that I used to visit with my parents when I was a little girl. It is a gem from times gone by. The shelves appear to be original, and they are filled with many nostalgic mementos such as old table radios.

There is no cover charge for this small concert hall, and there is free coffee for all. They do sell soft drinks and snacks, and donations for the band are welcomed, but no one is made to feel they have to buy snacks or contribute money. Some did, others did not. It is a nonalcoholic hall that also conducts a Sunday church service and a mid-week bible study and potluck dinner for all who would like to attend.






The Audience

The atmosphere is one of wholesomeness and there were all ages present, from two-year-olds to ninety-year olds. However, the majority of the audience was either senior citizens or teenagers, which was an unusual but interesting mix.The fascinating part was that the older audience members
could keep up with the teenagers in the impromptu clogging competition that seemed to spring up spontaneously without any announcements from the band. However, dancing is encouraged, and there was everything including clogging, two-stepping, and waltzes. There is a hardwood dance floor, and it was full for every song except the gospel numbers, when people were asked to not dance.

It was obvious that many of the dancers were regulars, and they even came dressed in their tap shoes for the clogging. One couple was especially "decked out", but I could never get a good picture of them. He was dressed in a black beret ( not very country, but interesting) with a black and red shirt that had pictures of guitars on the back with the words "Instruments of Bass Destruction". She was dressed in black leggings, a red tulle mini skirt with ruffled layers, a black western-style shirt with red embroidery, and a straw fedora hat with a black satin ribbon and a gold charm on the band. She was wearing ankle high embossed cowboy(girl) boots.  They definitely stood out from the crowd who were mostly dressed in casual clothes and possibly their dancing shoes. Many of the people seemed to know one another, so there was a sense of family and community.

The Band

https://www.facebook.com/TravisFryeandBlueMountain

The night I was there, the featured band was the Travis Frye and Blue Mountain Band, and they were superb  . The fiddle player is a two-time North Carolina state champion, but the entire band did an awesome job. The mandolin player and lead singer is father to the lead guitarist and band manager ( They explained all this during the show). Apparently, the father is a disc jockey at a radio station in Mt. Airy, NC during the day.   At one point, the band brought in a young lad about twelve years of age to do a guest dueling banjos number with the guitarist. He wasn't too bad.

Seating

As I said, the venue is in an old feed store that still retains much of its earlier character. The seating is an eclectic mix of old church pews, rocking chairs, stacking metal chairs, and some theater seats that were apparently taken from a theater at Dollywood in Pigeon Forge, TN during renovations there.  There were also a few people sitting on a ledge near the windows. The only problem was the support pillars that are located at four central points and can block one's view if you are unlucky enough to have to sit behind one of them. However, there were not assigned seats, so if someone left, you were welcome to take their seat. It was easy to move around, get to the restrooms ( which were surprisingly nice and very clean), get concessions, walk outside for fresh air, etc.

It was an evening that ended long before I wanted it to, but I know that I will be back to hear the music of the mountains.

Text and Pictures Copyright 2014 Violet Rebecca Jones

Roadside Apple Stands from Times Gone By

by Violet Rebecca Jones

This aging building sits along the road leading from Traveler's Rest, SC to Flat Rock, NC. It is made of what appears to be local mountain stones with an open-air wooden addition built on one end. I feel certain it was once a roadside apple stand since this is apple country where the landscape is dotted with apple orchards and the promise of ripe apples draw people from everywhere in the fall when the crisp autumn air is filled with the scent of fresh apple cider served cold and apple cider donuts with cinnamon sugar served hot and steaming, 

Many of the apple orchards have been in this area for many years, and as far back as I can remember, driving into this mountain region to buy bushels of apples has been a family excursion. There is something about this old, abandoned building brings back those early memories for me. The commercialized apple farms of today, where the owners offer all kinds of entertainment to draw in the tourists , simply do not compare to the joys of stopping at roadside stands with the family in search of the best, juiciest apples. Maybe it is because those days were simple and entertainment was something one usually created for one's self. The simple novelty of going for a long drive to buy apples was entertainment in itself. We lived in the country, so even going to town once a week to buy groceries was a treat. Going far afield on a Saturday was awesome. We would usually take along a picnic lunch, stop for bushels of fresh apples, and then stop at a roadside picnic area to eat our lunch, skip over rocks in mountain streams, and really enjoy just being together. We didn't spend much money, but I remember those afternoons better than any that required the purchase of a ticket to gain admission to some amusement park, arcade, or movie. 

The next week would be spent helping my mother  peel and cut most of the apples for freezing, the making of jams, and drying   in the Indian Summer sun in preparation for winter pies and hot biscuits dripping with the taste of Winesap, Rome, and Granny Smith. I remember to this day the smell of apples drying under cheesecloth outdoors in the sun. Later, my mother would dry the apples in a car sitting in the sun, and the car would smell heavenly for days. The intense heat of the car would dry them in half the time it normally would take. We didn't have dehydrators, nor did we use the low setting of the oven. Those things were too expensive, so we did things the old-fashioned way as my mother had learned to do them throughout her life. Those apples made the best pies in the cold of winter, and I could taste all the memories that went into their making, from the apples busheled in baskets, to their sweet aroma drying in the sun. 

 My mother would always buy a small basket of apples for fresh eating, usually Red or Golden Delicious, and they would keep for what seemed like months. I remember once a door-to-door insurance salesman came by and saw our huge basket of apples. He asked if he could have one, and proceeded to rub it on his pants leg for over thirty minutes. My mother told him she would gladly wash it again for him if he wanted, but he said, " No, I just like mine real shiny." I don't know why that has stuck in my mind all these years, but after that day, whenever my mother or I polished an apple, we would say, " I like mine real shiny".  

Perhaps that is one reason this old building seems to beckon to me so very much. Not only does it remind me of happy days as a child on our family quests for apples, but it also reminds me of a time when  people used what they had, constructed their buildings, and their lives, in a simple manner wasting nothing, and asking for little in return. Today, we expect everything to be done on a grand scale. We flock to amusement parks where we can get an "experience" with our children, but the greatest experience we can give our children is the experience of life in all its simplicity and joys, the appreciation of our land in a natural setting, the "experience" of a simple farmer making a life for himself and his family in a roadside stand built from the natural elements of the environment, and yes, even the simple joys of polishing an apple until it shines.   

To this day, when the air begins to turn cool and crisp, I yearn to ramble toward the mountains in search of apples. 

Text and images copyright 2014 Violet Rebecca Jones

Southern Mountains Ghost Town for Sale

by Violet Rebecca Jones

As you may have realized by now, I love things that are old and unique. History fascinates me, and I love discovering places that remind me of  the past. While rambling in the mountain regions of northern South Carolina and southern North Carolina, I happened upon a place that seems to be saturated with history. It apparently is an abandoned ghost town that I had never heard of before, and it is for sale! The little town is called Horse Shoe Gap Village, NC and while there is an unincorporated small community nearby whose sign says Horse Shoe, NC, this little village seems to be much older. It reminds one of an old western ghost town, but there are still electric lights in one or two of the buildings, which seems incongruent with the rest of the town.  There are approximately ten buildings that are built along a winding dirt road just off the main highway that passes in front of this little abandoned hamlet. 

  

The place beckons one to stop and look around, but since no one was there, I was a bit reluctant to wander by myself. One of the most unique things is the antiquated tractor placed prominently on display in the center of the town. I am sure it no longer runs, but it pulls one back to an earlier time, and for some reason, I loved it. I desperately wanted to go into the General Store, which looks as if it might still hold some ancient goods, but it was closed and locked. The modern plastic chair on the porch indicates that someone has recently been there, but they were nowhere to be found on this day. There was also a relatively new motorcycle under the shed at one building that has electric lights on each side of the door, but again, no one was present, so I moved on. I wonder what price they are asking for this little town. 

PS:  I have tried to research this little village, but I have not been able to find any information on it. If anyone knows about this place, I would love to hear from you.  

I've Got the PT Blues

by Violet Rebecca Jones

I started physical therapy again. Yes, again. I have had so much physical therapy that I probably could pass the physical therapy licensing exam and open my own therapy clinic. I injured my knee several years ago, had surgery, had physical therapy (twice), and my knee proceeded to get worse. It was so bad they decided to stop PT for a while, but my knee has gotten worse with each passing day. So, here I am again, in PT.

First of all, PT is NOT fun. It hurts. I am trying to do things with my knee that my knee has declared off limits, and this can be painful. They assure me that this is good for me, so I try. I grit my teeth, and although they expect me to move 10 inches when I can only move two, they assure me I am "doing great"! I suppose they train all therapists to tell that to the patients so that we will feel like Olympic Athletes in the making and keep working toward that gold medal. I hate to tell them that I would be happy with a tin  medal at this point.

Second, PT can be downright embarrassing. There are all these people in there watching you do all these movements to strengthen the knee. Even though I wear pants, I was born and raised in the South, and proper Southern Girls just aren't supposed to move that way. Plus, I am not exactly a svelte fashion model, so I always feel like someone is giggling about how outrageous I must look. The funny thing though is that when I look around to see if anyone really is giggling, no one is. Everyone is too focused on their own struggles with PT. I guess I am not as important as I thought I was!

Third, it can be very daunting, and sometimes self-esteem shattering to see all the young, robust athletes who are doing PT because of a sports injury, and who are complaining because they can't run 100 miles per hour like they did before the injury. Now they can only run 90 miles per hour, but they are working on it. Meanwhile, I am just trying to get up to maybe 1/4 mile per hour. Now I know what my mother meant when she used to tell me, " You're young. It doesn't hurt you like it does me." Young athletes, beware. My mama was right!

There are some things that are interesting about PT. I am amazed by an elderly man who is working to improve his walking, standing, and balance skills following a stroke. He is working so hard, and he never gives up. I hope that I can have that kind of determination when I am his age. I want to clap for him every time he finishes a task, but I don't. I don't want him to know I am watching because, remember, I don't like the idea of people watching me, so I figure he doesn't either. I may be wrong. Maybe I will clap for him one day.

There are also some very good things about PT that I really enjoy. After all the therapy, they put these wonderful ice pads on my knees and allow me to simply lie there quietly on my back and rest. I never dreamed ice could feel so wonderful. It is unbelievably relaxing to lie there, and  even though I am on a hard table in a room filled with people I always come close to falling asleep. I must be older than I thought.

Copyright 2014 Violet Rebecca Jones