The best of times

I just got back from the Outer Banks. It was unfortunate that I had the dregs of a cold, icky sinuses, rainy days, and a wrenched muscle in my back. On the plus side, I spent time with my father. So, all in all, it was a positive trip.

My father has all the best stories. Best in good stories, best in adventures, best in tales. Not all stories are happy, but they are good. He told me this one before, but he added a little more this time.

Once when he was in college, he and some buddies of his went out sailing in the Pamlico Sound. Now this way before the days of checking the weather reports and radar. Heck, it might have been before flare guns for all I know. Anyway, it was a nice day, so they went for a sail.

Of course, as you can guess it, a storm came up, and their boat tipped over. Unable to right it, they all clung to the hull of the ship. My father looked about in all directions, but there was no sign of land, just stirring water and waves everywhere. Only in the far off distance was a house on a point. So my father said, "Look, we can't just stay here. No one knows we're gone, no one is going to come looking for us. I'm going to swim to that house to get help. You all stay here, don't move. (He meant don't swim off from the boat.) Keep watching that house. When I get there, I'll wave my shirt so you know I got there." And he and one friend set off through the churning water to get to the house, miles away.

Of course, he finally made it to the house. Only to discover that the house was abandoned and dilapidated. However, he figured there had to be a path to the house, and a road at the beginning of the path. So they set off over a grassy track and finally made it to a road. Walking down the road, he was finally able to flag down a truck, go in to nearby Aurora, and get help for his friends.

That is where the story usually ended for him, when he told it to me. This weekend, he was reminiscing about his friend he swam with, as he had recently attended his funeral. So this time, he added a little bit more.

He said he always held the people of Aurora in high regard. When they were rescued, the whole town turned out, gave them a warm place, hot food, dry clothes, a place to stay. What they did was important. It was a an act of kindness by a whole town.

Now, I love the story, and the addition I just heard. But more than that, I like that he has a story to tell. It might be a little scary, and at least it has a happy ending, but mostly, he has stories to tell his family. Stories are important. Sometimes it's better to have a memory than a photograph.

I don't hate Nicholas Sparks

I was going to write about the time I explored Lake Lure, one of the events that led me to write my first book, when I saw a post about Nicholas Sparks this morning. It seems that yet another of his books is going to be turned into a movie.

Now, I've kind of knocked Nicholas Sparks in the past. My go to line is to ask people if they liked my books, then to go give them a good review, as it helps sales. And if they didn't like them, well, I'm Nicholas Sparks. In the hopes they go give him a bad review, see? (I'm not really Nicholas Sparks.)

I really have no contempt for Sparks; on the contrary, I have nothing but bonhomie for the hugely successful turkey guy. My hangup comes from a Facebook post I read a few years ago. Some NC page asked who their fans' favorite writer was, and in a landslide, Sparks was mentioned more than any other writer. Even worse, some of North Carolina's best and most famous were not even mentioned. O. Henry (not a native, but a North Carolinian nonetheless), Clyde Edgerton, Thomas Wolfe (!), David Drake and Orson Scott Card in science fiction writing, Haven Kimmel, Jerry Bledsoe, Tom Robbins, David Sedaris, Daniel Wallace... I mean, Daniel Wallace barely mentioned! Maybe he wasn't even mentioned.

No Carl Sandburg.

No Paul Green.

So, really, I'm more disappointed that the favorite author of most people in North Carolina is a guy who writes, by his own admission, the same book, over and over. Two people meet, they are slightly confronted by each other, have to overcome an external problem, grow closer, but can't be together for some reason, and they separate, benefiting from the closeness they gained.

Yeah, I read a few of his books. That's the thing. He's a good writer. He can put the words together well, and the story flows. He has appeal, he's fun, entertaining. And, honesty, if I thought I could make the money he makes off those things, I'd write the same book over and over, too. And he seems like a nice guy. He ran track, and built a new running track for the local high school in New Bern.

And I don't really blame him for the crummy movies made from his books; that's rarely the author's fault. And, I know, The Notebook is pretty good. What do you expect? I has James Garner in it. Rockford was awesome.

Soooo, yeah... If you ever see me knocking Nicholas Sparks, I do it with love. And maybe a little envy, but not much, I'm really not that kinda guy. But I do hope people would open their library up a little. There should be a competition for the best author in my home state. I'm going to keep working hard to be part of that.

You stayed WHERE?!

Once I was married, I learned quickly to spend the money on a decent hotel. Oddly, my wife was more of the cheaper, it's just a bed and shower, kind of person. I was somewhat keen on a decent place to stay, later a nice place, but I always wanted a good location. My idea of a good room was that I could sleep in a hammock, wake up, fall out and land on the beach.
I have stayed at a few less than hospitable places, and it seems like quite often they centered around trips to Las Vegas. Go figure. Our first trip we spent the night at the Bun Boy Motel, cause we just couldn't make it all the way there in one day. Windy and hot, it was 99 degrees at midnight, I saw a leaf scuttling in the wind outside our room. Wait, nope, that's a mouse. Inside the air conditioning wasn't turned on, and the heat had killed a roach in the bathroom.
Other trips included a stay in Barstow, at a cheap room. It turned out that clean sheets were extra. We slept in sleeping bags. I thought of sleeping in the tub, but figured it wouldn't be any cleaner. I would have complained, but I didn't want to see the innkeeper in her nightgown again.
So we spend the money.

On our second trip to Carolina Beach, we stayed at the old Beacon House B&B. It has that nice and cozy look to it, just what you expect from an old beach house. The rooms were a little small, but it was in a nice little quiet end of the island. We were able to get up and walk right out to the beach. Plus, someone cooked breakfast for us.

Nowadays, it's less of an option. B&Bs sometimes aren't as suitable for families, and with dietary concerns, it's tough to get someone else to cook for us. Still it was a groovy little place.

We had stayed at The Golden Sands before, and really liked that place, but they not only pushed their rates up just too much, but they have some weird minimum stay thing, where we had to spend three nights there, for a weekend. Once again, good location, but I just figured we can do better. 

I write this mostly as a reminder for myself. I'm planning a new trip down to that area this spring. And I was thinking of sleeping in a tent, since it was just going to be a quick photo trip. 

Spend the money, Joe. Spend the money.