The AHQ Tour Update #4
As suggested in the first update, I have a famous columnist writing for me now!
6-20-02
Written by Dorcas Smucker
"It must be love," the lady beside me on the plane exclaimed when I told her that I had left home at 5 a.m. and was flying from Portland to Raleigh-Durham, North Carolina, where I would catch the 11:40 pm Greyhound to Spartansburg, South Carolina to meet my husband at 6 the next morning.
My introduction to the South came in the form of a soft-spoken black fellow who drove me on an airport shuttle to the Greyhound depot. "Is that a Christian station?" I asked him, after hearing an announcement on the radio about junior camp at the Redeemer Baptist Church.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"So you know Jesus?"
"Yes MA'AM, Ah do, praise the LAWD!"
That dose of Christian fellowship fortified me for riding on a Greyhound bus for the first time in my life, in the middle of the night, in North Carolina, where everyone talked fast and so Black/Southern that I couldn't understand them.
But I got where I was going and there was Paul to meet me. Yes, Ma'am, Praise the LAWD, Ah was glad to see that man.
Who would have thought my role on this trip would be as a fashion consultant? Organizer I can handle, Mom, cook, or shirt-ironer. I never imagined I would be summoned down the hall of the school where we were eating supper, only to see Konrad and Byran in their performance outfits of black slacks and tan shirts. "Tell us which looks better," Konrad says. He is all polished and shined, his shirt tucked in and his belt cinched tight. Byran, on the other hand, has his shirttails hanging loose. Which looks better, indeed. Even I know this--"You don't leave your shirt untucked with black dress pants." (Editor's note: But those shirts are designed for that option!)
That consultation took place at the school near the Fair Play Mennonite Church, where Paul and the quartet gave their sixth program of the trip. These guys make a good team--the quartet can sing, Paul can preach, and they have made me feel graciously welcomed.
Earlier that day we visited the Gospel Express office. Dave Miller had invited us there at our church service the night before.
Duane Mullet was our tour guide.
6-21-02
Paul and I spent the night in Marv and Inez Coblentz's house, yet another graciously appointed Southern house with a gracious Southern hostess that has Martha Stewart beat to shreds in all departments. And everyone makes this great Southern iced tea. Except it's a bit sweet--two cups of sugar to the gallon, one woman told me last night. "Do you have unsweetened iced tea?" I just asked the teenager behind the counter at a gas station. "No, Ma'am'" she said. I like these Southern manners even better than Southern iced tea.
The rest of us stayed with our friend Michael Mullet, Byran and I attended BMA Bible School with him in 2001.
This area of the country used to be cotton/slave/tobacco country, home of gracious plantation houses and Southern belles. But the land got cottoned to death, they say, and the beautiful homes got burned down during the Civil War. And most of the land has gone back to Cherokee days, wooded and brushy.
"We fahnd lots of artifaycts," the young man at the Fair Play Boys' Camp told us. "Ay-rowheads and stuff." He was one of forty boys at the camp, troubled young men who come here for a year or more of intensive help in a beautiful wooded setting. Working in groups of ten, they live outdoors in shelters they build themselves. Chopping wood, shovelling dirt, and practicing outdoor survival skills, they also learn about self-control and getting along with others. "Yes, Sir," "Excuse me, Ma'am" they said. I thought, " Maybe I'll send my children here."
Our young guide showed us how they rigged up a hollow stump and brought water to it. And pop. Pop? Well, maybe they put pop in it to keep it cold...?? Finally I caught on that he was talking about a 'paaahhp' as in a pipe, and not pop, as in Coke, which around here would probably be called a sody anyway.
The boys constructed really neat cabins and kept them in very good condition.
In keeping with the wildlife theme of this trip, I thought I should include this picture. One of the boys at the camp had caught a wolf spider. I think that's what it was anyway. I'd ask somebody but they're all in bed already.
I asked Paul once if he has to chase girls away from the quartet with a broomstick after these services, considering how girls react when Prince William shows up, and considering that these guys have so much more quality and character than Prince William. Paul said, "I asked the guys if there's usually a cluster of girls around them after a service, and they said, "No, we always have a cluster of old ladies around us after a service." Paul tends to have clusters of old ladies around him after he preaches, too. Like I said, these guys make a good team.
After experiencing Southern hospitality, tea, and accents, and after seeing what must be kudzu, that ivy-like plant that's twining all over the South, all I still needed was to see Stone Mountain, the Mt. Rushmore of the South. Konrad figured out we can spend half an hour there if we keep driving at 70 mph. But we just got into a heavy traffic jam and are averaging 20 mph, so I'm afraid Stone Mountain will have to remain unseen.
Instead, we'll drive on into Joe-jah to tonight's service at Montezuma.
Dorcas Smucker is a monthly columnist for the Eugene Register Guard newspaper. Look for her column "Letters from Harrisburg" in the Oregon Life section or on the web at www.registerguard.com.
As your loyal editor, I'm always on the lookout for good update shots.
Contest Results!
Staying up late pays off, as our latest contest winners Ted and Mary Hake can attest. Mere moments after I sent out Update #3 with the contest clues in it, I received the winning email from them! Receiving honorable mention are Sharon Krabill, Jane Eberly, and Shelley Graber. The answer of course was a bear.
So we were at Okefenokee Swamp, walking around the grounds and buildings and exhibits, and I saw a nice looking trail going around a building. I took it and came upon a large cage labeled with some sort of sign that made me realize what it contained. Taken aback, I carefully looked all around for the big black beast. Pulse quickening, I edged closer and closer to the cage, furtively glancing in all directions trying to see where the brute was. Then I realized he was in a little cubbyhole of the cage RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME mere feet away!! I was alarmed to put it mildly, but maintained enough emotional composure to take a picture.
Smokey.
Watch for another contest coming soon if we can think of one!