Post-Halloween ghosts

Yes, Halloween is the coming out party for many a ghost story, but the people who like to research ghost stories like to do so all year. Like, for instance, Michael Renegar and Amy Spease, authors of Ghost Stories of the Triad.

It might be a sunny Saturday, their only day off, but they're tucked up in a dusty corner of a library floor, researching the death toll of a long-forgotten structure fire. Or it might be a cool evening, better suited to homemade chili and a Monday night football game on TV, and instead, they're beaming flashlights onto uneven graveyard turf.

So just because Halloween is past, don't forget the hardworking ghost hunters who work all year to make your Halloween extra special ... and bring you special ghost stories about places you know, stories that are special any time of year.

Positive Art

Positive gets a bad rap. Pollyanna. Naive. Pipe dream.

Critical people are often seen as smart. Discerning. More in tune.

Truth is, it's often harder to be positive, to step over the ease of doing nothing because there is no use. I like positive people.

Edwin Gil is one of those people. A visual artist who transformed a youthful rebellious streak into an adult rebellious (or activist) streak that says "This does not have to be the way it is," he is using what he knows, art, to bring awareness of the growing problem of HIV/AIDS in the Latino community. He is speaking out when so many others are holding it in. He's tweeting. He's posting on facebook. And he's painting. And his paintings are cool.

I met him through his upcoming new exhibition, "Positive Art.". Who knew painting could be brave?

Welcome to Welcome, NC

It was raining. It always seems to be raining. I'd followed my little map to Welcome, N.C. to meet Richard Childress at his mega-motorsports facility, and I needed gas and to make sure I hadn't passed the turn (I am a woman -- it's easy to stop for directions).

I pulled into a one-pump station in downtown Welcome and inadvertently rang the full-service bell before getting out of the car. A man walked out, gray sweatshirt as armor against the blowing mist, and I apologized, saying I would pump it myself.

"You will not," he said with a smile as he opened the tank. "Oh, and (looking at the card in my hand) you're paying my credit. We usually only accept cash or check. But ... I can see you are not from around here." Check? Really? Who pays for gas by check? "We'll take care of it for you and run the card, although we usually don't like to."

Mind you, this was said without a hint of sarcasm or rushing. I stood beside the car, awkwardly, not used to having someone pump the gas. Cars drove by slowly, their tires hissing on the rain-soaked street. We walked inside where tires and Lance crackers were stacked, and I signed for the bill. I was bid a good day with a smile, and told to be careful out there, walking back out into the rain. Full-service hospitality, sincere and not sticky-sweet. The good stuff. The real thing.

A first from my little desk

Here's the first published article since I've moved to my little desk. Check it out online here at WNC Magazine.

I'm not sure how I got the byline for a feature written by multiple writers, but I'll take it! Make sure and check out the great photography in the photo gallery as well. The editorial teams of Gulfstream Communications always put together a quality product.