Anytime is a good time for a ghost story

My book, Ghost Stories of Charlotte and Mecklenburg County was really a labor of love for me back in 2003 when I wrote it. I'd grown up reading southern tales of ghosts from Nancy Roberts and others, but I never read any about my hometown, and finally I decided to remedy that. I researched the stories like the budding journalist I was, and in the process, happily became the first to collect some of Charlotte's tales of the past in the present.

And no matter what you think of Charlotte, its shiny buildings, its NASCAR hub, or it's suburbs endlessly bleeding out into the former tobacco and cotton fields of the Carolina Piedmont, it has a history. Really. I'm talking Revolutionary War. There's a little thing called the Mec Dec, still celebrated today.

Here I present a case in point: Rosedale, ca. 1815. And its growing legend of paranormal activity. I recently came across this account a reporter from The Charlotte Observer wrote about a night in 2007. And by the way, I'm "the writer about ghosts" Jeff Elder mentions in the story. I was there, one of the ones creeping about the darkened house on All Hallow's Eve ...

MY Music / A Primer

I write a lot about music sometimes, and sometimes I think a lot about the kind of music I like when people ask me.

The long answer is really, truly that I like a lot of music, and it really depends on the day and the mood. This doesn't make me very special -- in fact, it is a pretty common answer for the modern world. But the short answer is, really, that there is a band that influenced me like no other.

The Squirrel Nut Zippers. And here's my argument.

1. I'd listened to Glenn Miller, Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman and the Ink Spots on many a lazy Saturday afternoon, which I know made me the popular kid I was in high school (but I also listened to Paula Abdul and Michael Jackson, so pipe down the snickering.) So when I first heard SNZ in the late 90s, I felt it. I mean, felt it man.

2. This band didn't deserve and didn't really care that they got the "swing-revival" one hit wonder treatment in mainstream radio. They were doing more, much more. It was surrealism, out-of-time and the creative buzz that I couldn't get enough of.

Surrealism evidence:

I understand that this band is, as it were, well, gone, but really, it wasn't about swing. It was about a transportation of time, more than just zoot suits and instead some kind of space-time continuum that is familiar to Morrison and Faulkner, a favorite subject of mine about which I will go on and on about with the slightest encouragement.

3. The introductions -- SNZ and its side projects led me to the following:
a. Andrew Bird. Enough said right here. But I'm going to continue.
b. Charlie Patton.
c. Buddy Guy.
d. Dirty Dozen Brass Band.
e. North Mississippi All-Stars.
f. Django Rinehart.
g. Hobex.

And more ...

One of those side projects was Katharine Whalen's Jazz Squad, which led me back to The Complete Billie Holiday and Bessie Smith and forward to Diana Krall and beyond. My jazz knowledge has grown beyond this siren's primer, but Jazz Squad is still on my iPod.

So, here's what I'm leading up to. I got to interview K. Whalen. Recently about her new group, The Fascinators. We talked about her house, her past, present and future, and how great it is to be a mom and be an artist too. I knew I would enjoy connecting with her again -- I was right.

Read the interview, and for those of you reading, tell me, who was the band that "did it" for you? I want to know ...

Playing with Fire

 It's spring here in Charleston, the azaleas are through blooming, Tomato Watch 2011 in full swing, and event after event is happening, with so much to do that I more often than not find myself doing nothing at the end of the day. I've been banking up some writing that is spilling out now into publication, and it's been an amazing month, talking to a variety of interesting people about the interesting things they do.

Sometimes I seek them out, and sometimes I am assigned. An assignment is what introduced me to Walker Babington, who defines the always-overused term "free spirit." What has he done? Studied photography (check), lived in a tent on the beach of Costa Rica (!), carved faces into coconuts with the heat from a magnifying glass (!!), and habitually dumpster dove for his art materials, only at least once to return an art piece to the suburban curb from whence he "found" it after completing it (!!!).

Oh, and I didn't even mention the rusted mural in India, using a blowtorch as his painbrush, and currently saving up for stuntman school. He is funny, inspiring and really an underappreciated artist, although I did my best to explain all that in the recent Go Triad article.

He doesn't have a gallery, a plan, or even a palette, but he is making it happen nonetheless. I hope to keep my conversation going with him and bring more of his work to this little forum in the future.

Slow Food Sausage

It was a chilly morning in Chattanooga late last year when I visited Link 41. The little butcher shop that could wasn't officially open for business, but I was there on business as a writer, to learn about what they did and why they did it. (That's what you always look to learn when you talk to creative people, by the way.)

And tasting the sausage and bacon, it was clear Trae Moore and Tom Montague were creative.

But little did I know it was going to feel so homey. Words like "heritage breeds," "apprenticeship," "closed loop production" and "mindful eating" started to float about the room. Slow food was the language spoken here, and for me, it was like settling into the easy chair at my best friend's house.

Link 41 served some amazing mole sausage that day, crunchy with cocoa nibs that made taking a second helping a no-brainer, even if it was following the two pieces of bacon I had already consumed. I got really excited about the whole thing and wrote all about it for the Southern Food and Beverage Museum's online pub, OKRA, which is a great resource for foodies and those interested in food history.

Link 41 doesn't yet ship it's product, but after reading the article, you might want to join me in requesting that the shipping service begin. Or else you might have to plan a trip to Chattanooga ...

Sounds of a Professional

I've heard a good bit of live music through the years. It's almost always been earnest, usually fun, and sometimes the promise of something bigger. But what I heard last Wed. at the Village Tavern in Mount Pleasant was professional. It was standing out from the crowd.

You know how these things work, right? You get in for a small cover, stand around and wait for the opening act to start (it's always late) and you try to find a spot you can stake out. And then if you're me, you think about how late it is and what you have to do tomorrow and how happy that there's now no smoking in bars and restaurants anymore and maybe, how you wish you wore flats, but yes, the boots are just too great to not wear. And then you wait a little more, trying not to look like you came too early.

But when Sarah Lee and Johnny came on stage, things were different. It wasn't live music, it was a concert. And Vetiver was backing them up. Lots of people on one tiny stage. Tight harmonies, great songwriting, and a full sound that made it feel like this was a night to remember. Even if your feet hurt and it was late for a week night. This was a moment not to be missed (especially since I was sharing it with my great friend Holly).

If you want to know who they are and learn a little about them, read my article in Charleston Scene that gives you the scoop. Hint: Sarah Lee's last name is Guthrie.

The road

In writing, the road is a symbol for journey, and I've been thinking a lot about journeys lately. A road to Canterbury is what structured Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, and the theme extends all the way to the trip to the beauty pageant in Little Miss Sunshine. It's a framing device, tapping that story-telling subconscious that we all have, that we understand. It's the road in the parable of the Good Samaritan or the path to enlightenment, the symbol of change but also of commitment. I could muse on this all day, but it would be better to read Joseph Campbell.

In short, sometimes you don't know where you're going, you just can see the road to get there, and your job is to just get on the path. Recently, when I interviewed Doug Klesch for Go Triad about his project, 99 Americans, he talked about looking for something, and hoping to find it on the road.

The road frames Klesch's project both literally and creatively, and it extends farther beyond the horizon than he once could even conceive. And if we really commit to the road, all our journeys will take us places that would not even be imaginable at the start. I'll see you on the road ...

Yes, I have a difficult job. No, really

I am running about Charleston, sampling culinary delights. Here are my thoughts from the first day of the BB&T Charleston Wine + Food Festival:

http://www.charlestonscene.com/news/2011/mar/05/thoughts-first-day-wine-food/