Roaring Run has a lovely waterfall at it’s cap point, but on the way to that payoff, there is plenty of entertainment available, especially during the summer.
Much of that was on display yesterday as families (and a large group of pudgy, aging Harley riders) took advantage of nature’s recreational opportunities. Roaring Run, a lovely trout stream when it’s not a swimming hole, has several natural water slides for the beginner, intermediate and advanced (or crazy) sliders. Big slick rocks feature water roaring into a pool at the bottom and kids simply can’t resist. Yesterday, a grandfather couldn’t resist either and I was on hand with my camera to record it. And yes, I’ve slid down the waterslides before.
I consider myself extremely fortunate for many different reasons, foremost among them that I have friends who are a constant source of delight and surprise.
One of those friends is Robyn Schon, who runs the Roanoke Civic Center and is technically, therefore, a bureaucrat. We don’t generally expect a lot of creativity from that particular segment of our society. Then, along comes Robyn, a former rock singer who in 2017 released her delightful book of her poetry and artwork called Portrait of the Wind.
The other day, Robyn asked if I would read her NEW PLAY, for heaven’s sake. People often ask me to read their new works–some of them pretty good, most not so much–but I am often reluctant to read and give my opinion because I’m no expert. It can be quite consuming to invest in a book or play that isn’t much good. And I tend to be honest in giving my opinions.
I said, “Of course,” without the slightest hesitation because I love surprises, and what is Robyn if not a source of constant surprise?
I was not disappointed. I’m a slow reader, but I finished her screenplay “The Meaning of Tears” (alternately titled “Troubles Can Cause”) in two quick sittings.
The screenplay is based upon a case of murder in rural North Carolina in 1929. I won’t tell you any more than that lest I spoil it for you (when it finally hits the screen, which I believe it will).
My first surprise was the simple structure of the manuscript, which was a brief seminar on how to do it. It was clean, virtually error-free (a couple of misplaced apostrophes), structured for a quick read, and thoroughly professional. That made it easier to read because the construction was uniform.
The story built a bit slowly for its first third and then moved rapidly and nervously for the final two thirds. Robyn masterfully built the tension to a virtual explosion, then slowly moved through an anti-climax that wrapped up loose ends.
There were “Oh, wow!” moments, and her understanding and description of the pre- and post-Stock Market Crash Southern America was precise and enriching.
Robyn obviously did a great deal of research on the core of this story (telling me the story of finding Chicago Tribune and New York Times front-page articles on the central event the day after it happened). I’ve always known her to be a bulldog when she wants to get something done (how else would you run a 10,000-seat civic center?) and that stubborn persistence pays off handsomely in “The Meaning of Tears.”
I discovered later that this screenplay is not her first. She has a backup and a couple of TV situation comedy scripts waiting in the wings.
I hope “The Meaning of Tears” makes the screen soon. It’s a heck of a screenplay. And Robyn is a heck of a writer … in addition to everything else.
I reckon it’s supposed to be hot on the 4th of July weekend, but 101 degrees? That’s a bit much for a mid-Atlantic climate that used to be described as moderate. But it did present an opportunity old men don’t take very often: stripping down to our shorts and diving in the nearest lake (Philpott in this instance), which was a hoot.
My pal Susan and I drove down to the lake between Rocky Mount and Martinsville yesterday for a change of scenery and we got it, a good veggie lunch, a nice paddle, and a swim in water that was nearly as warm as a bath.
We absorbed our obligatory fireworks Saturday, the actual day when they’re supposed to be fired. It has been World War III at various neighborhoods–including mine–for nearly two months running and maybe now it will end. The fireworks thingy is out of control. On the 4th my house was completely surrounded by different neighbors shooting off expensive fireworks and the loud bangs made it sound like a war zone.
As most of you know, I grew up muddy-water-poor in a big family where feeding those mouths chirping like baby birds for a piece of the worm was the day’s No. 1 goal.
Mom had to improvise, since we had very little money, especially in the years after Dad died, leaving us nothing but bills and memories of a good man who suffered from alcoholism.
The story here, though, is not so much about Dad’s qualities, as it is about Mom’s resourcefulness reaching a level of creativity that sometimes the mind.
I don’t think Mom invented fried grits as an entree, but she sure as hell handed it down to me gift-wrapped. Today, I created my own 2020s adjustment to the original recipe that that does not improve its qualities as a health food (it doesn’t have any), but certainly gives it yet another iteration as a taste king.
This one, like Mom’s original, is easy. She simply boiled the grits, ladled in some butter, spread them on a cookie sheet and let them dry. Then she fried them in bacon fat, creating a french fry look and a wonderful taste.
I did all of that today, except that I added one ingredient: Kraft Macaroni and Cheese flavoring packet. I had one leftover in the Hubbard, having used the pasta for something else and it occurred to me today that if added to hot grits and blended nicely, it could create Mom’s grits with a new twist.
I haven’t finished yet (I still have to let them dry, slice them about four inches long and half an inch wide, then fry them in bacon fat), but I’m confident enough with the ultimate outcome tomorrow that I’m telling you about it now.
One piece of advice: Don’t over-indulge. This dish is full of carbs and fat and while it will definitely fit the taste box, it isn’t healthy. That, in this case, makes it a reward, not an entre.
Mill Mountain Trail presented some delights this morning, along with its usual rocky road annoyance. This is the trail that leads up to the Roanoke icon, the Mill Mountain Star, and its broad view of Roanoke as if the overlook were an airplane looking for a place to land. It is probably the most photographed spot in the Roanoke Valley.
The delight this morning was a patch of wineberries, ripe, tasty, and ready for the picking–which I did. I brought home about a pint of them and they are sweet, bright red, and totally delightful.
Let me also mention that I had a good, sweaty, muscle-stretching hike and I enjoyed nearly every minute of it.
A few days ago, I came across a photo of a couch I built in the 1970s. It was an interesting piece, following the “cargo” design and I put it together with scrap lumber given me by the foreman at a home construction site. The fabric I used came from rejects at a mill.
It was heavy, solid and ugly–a perfect sofa for a single guy in a small apartment. I gave it to a friend for his birthday. Ultimately, he sold it.
That led me to think about all the stuff I’ve built over time, and it began to add up. Consider:
I’ve built four decks and two front porches, roofed a house, built (with my son and a neighbor) a nice utility building (photo above).
I used to work on my car doing routine stuff like replacing brake pads, changing oil, tuning up and repairing small malfunctions like torn upholstery, replacing various lights, changing tires, replacing solenoid switches and the many tasks we used to be able to perform ourselves before the engines became so complex that only computer techs could work on them.
I once sewed a parka from scratch for a newspaper story and it turned out well. I discovered that sewing is very much like carpentry in that it requires full concentration and furnishes real satisfaction when finished.
I’ve always had a garden and I have no idea how many trees (mostly fruit trees) I’ve planted over the years, but recent weather patterns have made that much more difficult. You almost have to be an agronomist to grow a damn tomato plant these days. Climate change is real and it’s a bitch.
Truth be told, I don’t really know what the purpose of this little rant-ette is, but here it is.
In just a few days, you will strongly feel the new direction Virginia is taking with its Democratic Party in charge. Here is some of what you can expect (according to journalist Caleb Stewart):
The long-awaited Equal Rights Amendment was passed, giving the necessary 38 votes to become law, but Republicans don’t want it and are suing.
Gun Control laws passed include:
Universal background checks
Extreme Risk Protective Order, allowing authorities to temporarily take guns away from people deemed to be dangerous
Reinstates Virginia’s one-handgun-a-month law
Requires gun owners to report their lost or stolen firearms to law enforcement within 48 hours or face a civil penalty
Toughens the penalty for leaving a loaded, unsecured firearm
in a reckless manner that endangers a child
Gives local governments more authority to ban guns in public
Bars people with protective orders against them from possessing firearms and requires them to turn over their guns within 24 hours
Lee Jackson Day will no longer be a Virginia holiday.
Local governments across Virginia will officially have the authority to remove or contextualize Confederate monuments on their town, city, or county property.
The ‘Virginia Values Act’ adds sexual orientation and gender identity to the commonwealth’s antidiscrimination law.
Virginia is the first state to ban conversion therapy for LGBTQ
youth. The Commonwealth makes it easier to change a person’s name and gender on a birth certificate and requires the Department of Education create and implement policies concerning the treatment of transgender students in public schools.
The Republican abortion restrictions law has been rolled back, including a 24-hour waiting period before an abortion can be performed and a requirement that women seeking an abortion undergo an ultrasound and counseling. The measure also undoes the requirement that abortions be provided by a physician, allowing nurse practitioners to perform them, and does away with strict building code requirements on facilities where abortions are performed.
Criminal charges for simple possession of marijuana will be scrapped and replaced with a $25 civil penalty. Medical cannibus was legalized.
Insurers will be limited to charging a maximum of $50 a month for insulin in Virginia, giving the commonwealth the fourth lowest cap in the country.
Virginians will no longer need to show a photo ID in order to vote by this November. Voters will no longer need to provide an excuse from a pre-approved list to cast an absentee ballot in Virginia.
Students living in the U.S. without documentation but who still meet Virginia residency standards, will be eligible for in-state tuition at Virginia colleges and universities.
The requirement that drivers licenses be suspended if court fees are not paid will be repealed.
While we’re having some serious discussions about which war hero statues need to be removed, let’s look close to home at which schools in (or near) the Roanoke Valley need to be re-named.
We can start, of course, with Washington & Lee University in Lexington which was named for two slave-owners, one of which was the leading Confederate general during the Civil War. But we all know about Generals Washington and Lee.
I doubt George Washington’s legacy will get much criticism because he was “the father of the country,” but if we’re going to tear down statues of slave owners, his probably should be among the first to go.
Let’s talk about those notables under the radar in most places, but who remind us daily of where we came from.
In Roanoke City and Roanoke County William Ruffner Middle School, James Breckinridge Middle School, William Fleming High School, Patrick Henry High School, William Byrd High School, and James Madison Middle School are all named for slave-holders.
The controversial Stonewall Jackson Middle School name was changed a year ago to John Fishwick Middle School because Jackson was a Civil War general. (Jackson also illegally taught young black children to read, which is noted on a stained glass window of an African-American church in Roanoke. Fishwick was a noted Roanoke Valley businessman and scion of a prominent and honorable family.)
William Henry Ruffner was a reluctant slave owner who lobbied against it. He was the designer and first superintendent of Virginia’s public school system and principal of the State Female Normal School (Longwood University). He was born in Lexington and was a graduate of what became Washington and Lee University. During the Civil War he was a Presbyterian minister and farmer in Rockingham County. Ruffner owned slaves, and he advocated the gradual emancipation and colonization of Virginia’s slaves.
Of all those names on schools above, probably the worst was William Byrd, who not only owned slaves but also did “vast” business in procuring and selling them, according to jstore.org.
Worthy of dishonorable mention is Woodrow Wilson Junior High. President Wilson could not own slaves because it was outlawed during the Civil War, but he was a noted racist, born and raised in Staunton.
Lucy Addison Middle School is the only local school named for an honorable human being. She was an African-American educator in Roanoke who lived quite a notable life.
Looks like there’s some progress among my edible plants and trees … finally. The growing season has been so wet that it has discouraged growth, flowering, and creating fruit among most of my edibles, but the sun over the past few days is having a positive impact.
I have Staymen apples, concord grapes, black cherries (all gone, thanks to the damn birds), blueberries, as well as a garden with Italian basil, white and green cucumbers, figs, four varieties of heritage tomatoes, red bell peppers and some spices. I planted all of it and have seen mixed results over the years.
Right now, the main ingredient (tomatoes) is growing slowly, but steadily and I’m holding out hope after nearly giving up a couple of weeks ago. The squirrels seem to like my apples, so I put up screening on them (the screening captured a bird when it was on the blueberries).
Police arrested a man four houses down from my home on Edinburgh Drive in Roanoke a short while ago and his name is John Burch, 51. Police had warrants for Burch for aggravated malicious wounding and abduction following what they said was a domestic assault. A woman was hospitalized with “non-life-threatening” injuries.
He was barricaded inside his home and armed, police verified.
I heard police call Burch’s name several times yesterday on their loudspeaker from the tactical vehicle being used. It sounded like ordering at McDonald’s, to be honest, so I couldn’t swear it was “Burch” in an earlier post.
The standoff lasted from Sunday afternoon until about 10 a.m. Monday. It was mostly a case of waiting out Burch until he saw the futility of his situation. A police officer told me he is armed with an AR-15 and a shotgun.
I had earlier information that Burch was related to a family in Fincastle with a shady history of law-breaking, but I still have not verified that.