Conversations: Gloria Duncan on Using Bibles for Genealogical Research

I met Gloria Duncan about a month ago when she came to church one Sunday while visiting her daughter Andrea Matthews (the subject of a BC post on February 21—Andrea is a pediatric pharmacist) and her son Cameron. Andrea of course knew about my interest in writing and mentioned that her mom was a writer, and that she had produced a genealogical study of their family. 

When I talked to Mrs. Duncan, her enthusiasm for her writing and for research into her ancestors was evident. She spoke of using Bibles to find information about forbears, which had never occurred to me but made perfect sense. 

I have done a little with genealogical research, which means I sat down with Ancestry.com one day and in an hour found out that a line of descent on my mother’s side went back to an indentured servant who came to the Jamestown area in 1640. His grandson was a captain in the Virginia militia during the Revolution.

Mrs. Duncan by way of contrast had invested countless hours, traveled thousands of miles and met dozens of people doing her research, resulting in a beautiful book that was truly a labor of love. I have cut in some image of several representative pages of the book at the end of this post. I hope you enjoy reading them.

Mrs. Duncan wrote me in more detail about her use of Bibles for research.

Since you are interested in my reliance on Bible records I thought I would tell you about what resulted from some Bible pages.

My husband’s sister, Joyce, had done some family genealogy work in the 1970’s.  During that time she had copied some Bible pages that their uncle had copied from a Bible that was in the family.  She didn’t remember who had the Bible at the time and the uncle has died, so I had no idea where the pages had come from.  One page of notes Joyce had from her uncle mentioned that “Sammy says this is all of the Bible pages.”  I tried and tried to find out who Sammy was…there were several Samuels in the family…but could not locate who would have had the Bible.

In collaborating with another researcher of the family in Texas, I mentioned I had some pages that had come from a Duncan Bible.  She had been researching about eighteen years and had not heard of the Bible.  As it turned out, she had been looking all those years for when my husband  Joel’s great-great grandfather, Browning Duncan, died.  The Bible page had his death date.  I also had the birth and death of a child whose lone tombstone was in Tennessee that we were then able to identify.  The children of his great grandfather were also unknown until we looked at the Bible pages.  About four of the five girls had died before adulthood and were unknown to the present families.  So the Bible pages turned out to be the ONLY source for this data.  The other researcher found out that the only thing any of her contacts knew about the Bible was that supposedly it had survived a tornado in Oklahoma.

Just this February when Joel and I were in California, I went through all the old notes of his sister’s again and found a manila envelope from the same uncle who had copied the Bible pages and just written on the envelope, but not as an address, was the name Sammy Duncan, Mulhall, Oklahoma.  I felt sure that I had discovered the Sammy who had had the Bible. 

 
The white pages on the Internet confirmed the existence of a Sammy Duncan in that town and gave a phone number for him.  When we contacted him it was indeed the Duncan in possession of the old Bible and it had survived a tornado and was in very fragile condition.  I actually had copies already of all the pertinent pages for genealogy, but it was so gratifying to know where it was and who had it.  It also opened up another branch of the family and Joel discovered more second cousins he knew nothing about.  One is the State Music Director for Georgia Baptists, Jon Duncan.

What an incredible story! Thanks to Gloria Duncan for sharing with us. 

The title page of Gloria's book

First page

Family page

If You Can't Be Good, Be Lucky

The title of this post is a favorite saying of my brother's. I like it--it applies to a number of circumstances.

We spent some time last summer with long-time friends who have a nice house on Cape Cod, in a part of the peninsula that hasn’t been developed. It’s a relaxing and entertaining place to be.

I am a huge baseball fan, and I had heard for years about the Cape Cod Baseball League, which is an NCAA college level organization which has sent a disproportionate number of players to the majors. One evening, we caught a game between the Brewster Whitecaps and the Falmouth Commodores. It was a beautiful night, and because it was a college game, there was no admission charge. People drew up portable chairs around the perimeter of the outfield of a beautiful little park.
I thought it was baseball as it should be.

I also thought back to my own undistinguished career in baseball,  which ended when I was twelve. My basic problem was that I was afraid of the ball. I thought this was a reasonable attitude to have since a baseball hurts a lot when it hits you. As a right-handed batter, I consistently hit to right field, which meant I was swinging late. There was so much to think about during an at-bat. Do I want to hit this pitch? Will this pitch hit me? What should I do? Duck and cover? Scream and run? So much to think about…

Because I was not very good at the sport, although I loved it, I ended up twelve years old in the minor leagues. Most of the twelve-year-olds were in the majors, but for some reason, the coaches decided to put all the uncoordinated twelve-year-olds on one minor league team. Because we were uncoordinated, we didn’t play very well but, because we were bigger than the rest of the kids in the league, we could win enough games to make it worthwhile. I remember one game we won 63-0. Our coaches kept telling us to make outs to end the spectacle but we kept merrily hitting and running around the bases. I pitched that game—not that I was any good--but asked to be taken out in the fifth. I felt too sorry for the opposing team who cried their way through the last couple of innings. As a result, they couldn’t see well enough to hit anything. It was pitiful.

Anyhow, we ended up in the playoff game for the championship—one game, winner takes all. Larry, our third baseman, had the most athletic ability of any of us. He could field anything hit to him and make an accurate throw to first, which made him a rarity on the team. He used a big black bat that was his personal stick: no one dared touch it. He occasionally banged the ball off the fence but never hit a home run. He also struck out a lot.

I remember one situation well. I was playing shortstop and we were behind 3-0 in the top of the sixth (the last inning for Little League games). The other team had loaded the bases with no outs and it looked like they were going to increase their lead. The hitter smacked a sizzling line drive straight at Larry. He caught the ball, stepped on third to double the runner who had taken off at the crack of the bat and reached over to tag the player coming from second who apparently ran at the sound of the bat and didn't look to see that Larry had the ball.

There was a stunned silence. “Unassisted triple play,” my coach said with total admiration in his voice.

 So we were up, but still three runs behind. Larry came to bat with the bases loaded and two out. I was on deck.

He swung at the first pitch and missed. He swung at the second pitch with the same result. He stepped out of the box and wiped his eyes. C’mon, Lar, don’t tear up now, I thought. I was ambivalent about getting to bat. If Larry made an out, the game would be over and we would lose. If he didn’t, I would be up and the thought of all that pressure made me feel queasy.

The third pitch came in to Larry and he whipped the big black bat around. Crack! It was the sweet pure sound of bat meeting ball cleanly. We all watched, frozen, even the runners who should have been running, as the ball sailed high through the air and dived into the deepening twilight beyond the fence. I could hear my coach screaming above the tumult, “Grand slam home run! Grand slam home run!” We had won the championship.

I played a few more games after that, but never managed to swing at pitches at the right time. I don't know what happened to Larry or the rest of the team. Somewhere I have a team picture, a collection of eleven gangly, goofy-looking kids tagged as losers who ended up winning it all. And I know it wasn't because we were any good: we were just extraordinarily lucky.

Pocketing the Change

As I was loading my pockets the other day, I thought, “I sure do carry a lot of stuff when I go out for a guy who doesn’t really have a job. Depending on what I’m wearing, I have between six and eight to ten pockets. In these pockets, if I am under full sail and going to be out for a while I have four sets of keys (don’t ask me why—I just do), two pens, maybe a pencil or two, my cell phone, a small calendar, a supply of my blog cards and Observer business cards, my wallet, which is a world into itself, and about a dollar in change. I’m set for most contingencies like this, but it does take a while to load and unload all this stuff when I leave and when I come back. But I’ve found I need everything I carry into order to function. I feel a little like the soldiers in Tim O’Brien’s marvelous book, The Things They Carried, except I don’t carry weapons and ammo and I don’t run the risk being shot when I go out. Not a high risk, anyhow.

I was thinking about pockets and remembered one of my colleagues, a woman named Mary, who was very involved in her three children’s lives, like many other working moms, in spite of the demands of being a full-time teacher. She was always doing something for them or involved with some activity at their elementary school. We ate lunch with about six other teachers, and one day Mary came into the room where we ate, sat down and put her head on the table.

 Some one asked, “Are you all right?”

“No,” came the muffled reply, “I’m not.”

“What’s wrong?” someone else asked.

“I agreed to be the Pick-a-Pocket Lady again this year,” Mary answered.

“What’s a Pick-a-Pocket Lady?”

Mary lifted her head up. “It’s something I do for the kids’ school carnival every year. I wear a big smock covered with pockets with little prizes in them. Kid come up and take a prize out. It’s like being nibbled to death by ducks. I hate it.”

“Why do you do it?”

Mary put her head back down. “It’s for the kids. And I’ve always done it so I can’t get out of it.”

Eventually Mary’s kids finished elementary school and the job of Pick-a-Pocket Lady fell to another hapless mom.

As I load and unload my pockets I feel like a kind of minor league Pick-a-Pocket...Guy.  I have moments when I wonder if I should carry some sort of man bag. I decide against it since I’d have to answer a dozen questions about one if I did carry it. I do have a handsome canvas messenger bag that I carry teaching materials in. If ever I went to a carryall that would be it.

I thought of all this because I was, as I said, thinking about pockets and about the five pockets of Biscuit City I fill every week. The blog has been running since May 24, 2011, with 265 entries to date. I enjoy writing the pieces: it does take some time and effort, but I’ve met some terrific people (on line) because of it. I get good comments and readers tell me they enjoy or are stimulated by some of the posts.

In reality, writing a blog every weekday is about like writing a daily newspaper column. Before my editor Susan Svihilik, was summarily fired from her position (and I resigned my column writing job with that paper in protest—and started “Biscuit City” as a replacement), she and I were talking about daily columns one day and we agreed that a single writer would need at least one assistant to do a daily column.

 My assistant is Nacho the Cat, and the conformation of her paws makes typing difficult for her so she’s not much help, although she does listen carefully when I read something aloud to see how it sounds.

So, I want to tell my Faithful Readers about some changes to BC—not major changes like switching to all posts on fashion or some other impossible (for me) subject. The changes are with how each daily pocket is filled.

Mondays I will continue to write about whatever pops into my head or something that has happened to me or interests me.

Tuesdays I plan to share some stories from my past. There’s a lot of past and so I have a lot of stories.

Wednesdays I have been featuring an interview with a writer for a while and more recently with an artist. I love doing this post, but it is rather labor-intensive so I am going to switch out and write about technology and society, a subject I find fascinating. I’ll drop in an occasional interview from time to time.

Thursdays will continue to be observations on writing, generally gleaned from other sources.

Fridays will continue to be Poem of the Week, although I plan to use poetry I have written, at the urging of some friends.

So there you go. Thank you for being BC readers. I hope you find the posts to be amusing or enlightening or stimulating. And please remember to click on the ads. :^) Rock on!

The Biscuit City Exceptionally Immodest Poetry Series Presents a Poem by Dan Verner, Who Has No Shame

Along with several other Facebook friends, I wrote a poem a day to observe National Poetry Month in April. Some people actually have asked me to share these poems on Biscuit City, so here is the first one. If I run one a week, it will be about December by the time they're all presented. Thanks to all who encouraged me in this, and to those who have not read them yet, enjoy!

                              Bus Stop

When I was teaching,
I read or a student read
A Poem of the Day
To start the class.
It was a tradition
And some students said
It was the best part
Of the class.
I'd agree, most days.

I chose the poem
Out of one of several collections,
Mostly edited by
Garrison Keillor,
Daughter Alyssa's literary nemesis,
Although she objects to
His style rather than his content
Having experienced M. Keillor
As a high school student
With his "Writer's Almanac" feature
On National...Public...Radio,
Inflicted by her English teacher,
A station on which, she says
The announcers speak slowly
And deliberately as if they
Knew somehow
They were addressing
Old people.

I know, youth is wasted
On the young and I exact
Some satisfaction
By reminding her that she
And her friends
Will pay my social security.

In any case, when I retired from teaching
Some nine years ago this July,
My department gave me a book of
Read-aloud poems
Edited by you-know-who
And Lisa Green, my department chair,
Allowed as how I would go out in my
Neighborhood every morning
And read to the kids
At the bus stop.

A school bus stops right outside my house
And each school morning
I hear the quiet sleepy talk
Of the students as they wait
For the roaring yellow machine
To take them away
To another seven hours
Of high school.

I want to take my book of poetry
And go out to them
And read them a
Poem of the Day
To fortify them against
All that day will bring
But that would be too weird
And so
I don't

(But sometimes
When the house is quiet
And they are standing in silent clusters
at the bus stop
I go into the living room
And there
Read them
A Poem of the Day.)

Nataly Dawn: How to Make a Living as an Artist

Nataly Dawn is a young singer/songwriter/"video song" producer from California. She is one half of Pomplamoose, an American indie music duo with Jack Conte. The band formed in the summer of 2008 and sold approximately 100,000 songs online in 2009.

Their videos mostly take the form of "VideoSongs", a medium Jack Conte defines with two rules:

1. What you see is what you hear. (No lip-syncing for instruments or voice)
2. If you hear it, at some point you see it. (No hidden sounds)

The name of the band derives from the French word pamplemousse, meaning grapefruit. Pomplamoose is an English-spelling approximation of the French pronunciation.

I first became aware of their videos on You Tube, and was struck by the layered sound they achieved with recordings done in an ordinary room in their house and also by Nataly's pure voice. The group does mostly covers, with originals by Nataly such as "Always in the Season" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Il-OFaFzHQM).  Nataly recently earned a masters in French Literature and does some wonderful covers of Edith Piaf songs [and dare I say, she sounds better than the original on songs like "La Vie en Rose." (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vsMIuuV05uc&feature=BFa&list=PLFB2A700B1A28B590) Please do not mail overripe Camembert to me for my opinion!]

The group achieved "commercial" success when their version of the Chordette's "Mr. Sandman" ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9xMCNmUaGko&feature=related) was used as as the soundtrack for a Toyota commercial. This past year, they were featured in a Hyundai commercial with their version of "Jingle Bells" as the soundtrack.


Nataly recently shared some of what she has learned writing, recording and producing music. I think her observations pertain to any kind of creative endeavor. (Note: I have edited her comments for language since she unfortunately uses a vocabulary that would not be appreciated by most Biscuit City readers.)
Here are Nataly's thoughts:

1. Don’t sign anything that has a 99% chance of not being to your advantage.

2. Don’t do things just because that’s how other musicians have done it in the past.

3. Don’t get excited about shortcuts: they don’t lead to anything worthwhile.

4. Work your head off. If you think that anyone is going to run the business for you, you’re wrong. Do as much as you can on your own, and when you can’t anymore, delegate the work to people you trust.

5. Have high expectations for yourself and for the people you work with.

6. In the words of my indispensable counterpart, Jack Conte, think like a start-up. If someone asks for 15% or 75% of your income, feel free to say, “ok, but if that’s what you want, what are you going to do for me?” And then get it in writing.

7. Hire people who you trust and who have a good work ethic, and do your best to keep them on board once you have them.

8. Don’t burn bridges. Even if you don’t end up working with someone, keep in mind that they have a voice and that the music industry is a small world.

9. Hire a good lawyer. They’re really the only thing between you and getting screwed most of the time.

10. Be careful with your time. You only have so long to achieve what you want out of life. So don’t let yourself get bogged down. Things will always fall through the cracks. Balls will get dropped. You can only do so much. So choose those activities wisely. And like I said before, if you really think that someone else will help you achieve your goals, hire them (but first refer to points 1, 6, 7 and 9).

11. Start with what you have. You won’t like what you’ve made ten years from now anyways, so don’t be precious about it. Put stuff out now. Use the mics you have, the computer you have, the instruments you have. More “stuff” won’t make you a better artist.

12. Be good to your fans. If you’re lucky, they’re in it for the long run. And they may be the only people out there who actually care whether or not you’re making music 30 years from now.

Interview with Sally Ramsey, Local Artist of the Week, an Extra Gravy Feature of Biscuit City

Introduction:

Good morning and welcome to Extra Gravy, a Harrison Bergeron Production coming to you from the glass-enclosed studios in Biscuit City, a wonderful magical land where all your dreams come true, everyone is intelligent and beautiful and has a ton of money! And it’s 72 degrees and sunny year ‘round. 

Our guest today is Sally Ramsey,  raconteur, retired nurse, musician and one of the funniest and most optimistic people I know.

Dan: Welcome, Sally, to Extra Gravy, probably the world’s only virtual radio show without an audio. It’s nice to be able to talk with you!

Sally: Hi, Dan.  I’m so happy to join you this morning.  What a view from the glass enclosed Biscuit City studio!

Dan: It is unimaginably magnificent, isn’t it? Let’s go back to when I first became aware of you:  you came to the 8:30 service and sat near the front and smiled when the choir sang as if we were the most wonderful group you had ever heard. (Believe me, that early in the morning we were struggling.) Since then I’ve gotten to know you as about the most optimistic and at the same time down-to-earth person I know. Have you always been like that?

Sally: What flattery!  You usually catch me on a “good” day, since I assure you I’m not always so optimistic, but I think life is much better if you approach things with a “glass half-full” attitude.

Dan: I know you’re from a little town in North Carolina that has several claims to fame. You’re a terrific story teller, so would tell us about your home town and the stories about the KKK and the CIA “extreme rendition” airfield there?

Sally: I’ve actually lived in several places in North Carolina, but I consider home to be Smithfield, North Carolina, which is about 25 miles east of Raleigh and familiar to many who travel the I-95 corridor.  It’s the town with the big outlet mall visible from the highway.   The outlets arrived long after I left.

When I moved there as a high school freshman I thought my father had certainly chosen the most backward, rural location he could find to relocate our family.  Greensboro, our former home, seemed quite worldly to me at that moment. 

This was the 60’s - the time of the Civil Rights movement, the assassination of Martin Luther King and all the unrest and social change of the time.  I was horrified to discover the KKK was not something I read about in the newspaper or images of hooded cowards on the evening news, but was actually active in this area of the rural South.  What an embarrassment to the citizens of this small community when an enormous red and white misspelled sign glorifying the Klan was erected just as you entered the town!  The property was owned by an avowed Klansman who felt compelled to advertise his ignorance and prejudice in such a public way.   Seeing Smithfield and that horrible sign featured on the evening news with Walter Cronkite one night was the height of embarrassment for a newcomer and an impressionable teen-ager!  

That sign eventually mysteriously came down one night by an act of teen-age vandalism.  Interestingly enough, most everyone knew the “culprits,” but, to my knowledge, the authorities claimed ignorance, and no one was ever punished.

In spite of the notoriety of the sign, Smithfield turned out to be a good place to grow up and call home.  We made wonderful friends and my mother continues to live there.  Smithfield was also the home of Ava Gardner, the movie star.  Many of her extended family still call Smithfield home.  She was a frequent visitor during her lifetime and was often seen at the little diner that her brother owned which was also the lone teen gathering place in town.  It was not unusual to see her sitting in a booth when we’d go in for a burger after the Friday night football games.  We teen-agers weren’t too impressed, but our parents found it pretty extraordinary.

Smithfield again made the news recently for being the home of the private air field used by CIA aircraft that secretly transport terrorist prisoners to foreign locations for interrogation and imprisonment.  Imagine my surprise to read the story in The Washington Post recently!  There have been lots of local protests, but I believe the tough economy caused many to overlook the situation since new jobs have been created to support the air field.  It’s still hard to wrap my head around the idea of the CIA in Smithfield!  What’s the world coming to?

Dan: These are such wonderful stories that I first heard before and after choir and rehearsals. How did you come to join the choir? You seem to enjoy it so much! What’s your musical background?

Sally: My musical background, such as it is, consists of seven years of piano lessons (I learned to read music, but I’m no piano player) and singing with the chorus all through school.  A friend encouraged me to sing with Voices United in 2006 and I ventured out of my comfort zone and gave it a try.  It was a wonderful experience and it made me remember how much I enjoyed singing with a group.  Becky invited me to sing with the choir whenever they performed a piece from that program.  Then, she asked me to help out the group for special holiday presentations.  Before I knew it, I was in!  I thoroughly enjoy being in the choir and being part of the worship experience.  I’ve made such wonderful friends and am privileged to be associated with so many talented, committed people.

Dan: Yes, Becky has a way of involving people in music all right! Tell me about coming to Manassas. I think you came about the same time I did.

Sally: I graduated from college, married and moved to Manassas in 1974.  My husband, Les, had found work here after his graduation the year before, so this became our home.   I soon found employment as the nurse in a private OB/Gyn office.  I had a long career working with many mothers and babies in Manassas.  I have wonderful memories and still see women in the community that remember that time.  I’ve been very fortunate to have had a career doing what I love and being able to watch so many of those babies grow up.  There are many young adults I see in our church that fall into that category.  Medicine and patient care has changed so much over the years.  I’m glad that I practiced when I did, but I’m glad to be officially retired – at least for now.   Nursing is something that never leaves you, though. 

Dan: That’s quite a legacy to have with you forever. I’m getting a little ahead of myself, though. I could tell that you write well from listening to your stories. How did you learn to write, and who encouraged you?

Sally: I’m really not a writer – at least not like so many of your other guests – so I’m honored that you consider me part of that good company even if just in the margin.  I had an English teacher in the seventh grade who opened the world of writing to me.  Her influence is with me every time I put pen to paper or, in today’s words, fingers to keyboard.   I learned the beginnings of how to communicate with the written word during that school year and her guidance has served me ever since.  Fortunately, I had other excellent English teachers that all took an interest in me and nurtured that solid beginning.  All teachers should take note since you never know how much you may impact some impressionable mind. 

Dan: You’re a storyteller as well. You told me a story about a relative who lived in Alexandria and was a railroad engineer. Tell us about that, please!

Sally: That story is about my great grandfather, Alfred T. “Bud” Rollins.  He lived in Alexandria and worked for the railroad as an engineer.   My father used to tell the story about how his grandfather had been involved in a serious train wreck.  Of course, I didn’t have many details from this long-told family story until recently when the accident was featured in the October, 2011, issue of Our State  magazine, a North Carolina publication.   The story goes that Bud Rollins was the engineer of one of two trains carrying the performers and animals for Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West Show that also featured Annie Oakley.  They were traveling in a convoy on a single track.  There was a miscommunication with a freight train going in the opposite direction.  The instruction was that the freight train engineer was to pull off on a side track and let the Wild West trains pass.  After the first train went by, the freight train engineer pulled back on the track, heading straight for the second train.  A head-on collision and derailment ensued with many animal casualties and injuries to people on the train.  Annie Oakley was seriously injured.  Fortunately, the train crews survived.  Good thing for me since I’m here to tell the story today! 

Dan: A writer friend of mine uses the pen name of “Molly Bolt” which I think is so funny because most pen names are pretentious and arty, but she uses a piece of hardware for a nom de plume. I think you of all people who know about this find it funniest. Why do you think it’s so funny? And please tell us the story about how you acquired your affinity for bits of hardware!

Sally: I love word play and I also have a peculiar sense of humor so to use a hollow wall anchor as a pen name makes me giggle.  As for hardware, much to my husband’s horror since he is a true handyman extraordinaire, I was the resident fix-it person at my former office.  I even had my own set of tools.  This fact still makes Les cringe! 

He continues to doubt the veracity of the story I tell from my senior year in high school.  The entire senior class was sent to the cafeteria one morning to participate in an Air Force Aptitude test.  It was pretty clear to me early on that I wasn’t Air Force material until we got to the automotive section of the test.   Now we were on to something!  In an effort to be a great girlfriend, I had spent hours listening to the current object of my affection wax poetically about automobile engines, carburetors and cam shafts.  You could hear the girls in the room groan as they came to the page with the parts of an engine all waiting to be identified.   Proctoring this test wasn’t happening so there were lots of whispered questions – like  “What’s a head gasket?” .  Usually the one least likely to disobey the no talking rule, I found myself whispering answers to my bewildered table mates.  Imagine my parents’ surprise to be advised of my exceptionally high test score!  It’s a wonder a military career was not in my future! 

Dan: You are a golfer and frequently play with your friend Molly Powell. How’d you get started golfing? Are there some stories connected with that? I just bet there are!

Sally: I’ve easily made the transition from the work force to the golf course!  My dad was an avid, low handicap golfer.  He was delighted when I took up the sport first in high school and then again some 20+ years ago.  I’m certainly not a low handicapper, but I play as often as I can and have many great friends because of the game.  I won’t bore you or your “listeners” with golf stories since you either love it or hate it.  Non-golfers usually make references to watching paint dry if I try to share my golf stories with them.

Dan: Do your relatives think you’re funny? Do they appreciate your stories and are they storytellers as well?

Sally: What an interesting question!  I doubt there’s one family member that thinks I’m funny.   I think my sister is the clever/comical one.  We are a close family though and get together as often as we can.  Stories and laughter invariably ensue when we’re together.

Dan: You speak about your mother quite often. She sounds like a character. Would you tell us about her, please?

Sally: I think my mother is pretty amazing.  There was a time she wouldn’t have dreamed of telling her age, but she’s proud of her 88 years now.  She is in remarkably good health, which is a blessing.  She is a voracious reader; she continues to live alone; she drives around Smithfield (it’s still a small town) and plays bridge a couple of times a week.  She has a large circle of friends and has an active social life – more active than mine!  I’ve learned a lot from her, especially about the importance of faith, friends and relationships.

Dan: Do you have any other stories you’d like to tell us?

Sally: I believe they say you should always leave your audience wanting more, so I’ll save other tales in case you’re at a loss for words one day and need to tap into my deep well of stories and anecdotes!  I always tell new golf friends that I cannot promise anything about the caliber of my game, but I’m sure to be comic relief during 18 holes together!

Dan: You seem to enjoy Biscuit City and the devotionals I read to the choir. Why do you think you enjoy them so much?

Sally: We both have that quirky sense of humor that amuses us!  We get it even if others don’t!  And I think stories such as we both tell help us to understand our world and our lives. It’s a blessing to be able to share them with other people.

Dan: I want to thank you for being with us on Extra Gravy from the Biscuit City studios today. You’re one of my favorite people and a kind and well-respected person. And the same lady cuts our hair. You’ve been a delightful guest.

We’d love to have you back sometime for some more stories and merriment.

Sally:  It has been my pleasure!  I’d be delighted to return to Biscuit City Land any time! 

  

Dan: Do you have anything you’d like to add to this interview?

Sally: I think we’ve probably bored your listening audience enough for one day.  I’m just honored you find me and my story interesting and/or amusing enough to warrant an interview! 

Dan: …I have one final question. If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be? I would be a Brazilian rosewood tree because they are beautiful and their wood is used in high-end guitars.

Sally: I’ve been worried about this tree question, since I knew it would be coming.  With spring being upon us, I’ve been especially intrigued with the dogwood.  It’s actually on the small side for trees (don’t I wish!), graceful, often old and gnarled (I call this aging gracefully), and with lovely flowers in springtime that, as legend has it, reference the cross and everlasting life.  I must say that was pretty deep thinking for me!

Dan: We’ve been talking with Sally Ramsey, story teller, funny lady, musician, retired nurse and one of my favorite people in the world. This has been the Local Artist of the Week feature, brought to you on the Extra Gravy show on the Biscuit City Network. The Local Artist of the Week is a Harrison Bergeron Production from Molly Bolt Industries, producer of fine hardware, food products and an occasional book or two. This episode is sponsored by Biscuit City Stories and Tales, now available in some bookstores. We’re not going to tell you which ones to make it a kind of treasure hunt! So look and look and look for the big bound volume of Tales from Biscuit City. They’re not as good as Sally Ramsey’s stories, but, hey,  few things are! That’s Biscuit City Stories and Tales, available at a bookstore near you, maybe. Somewhere. Look for it!

This is Dan Verner, bidding you a fond adieu from the glass-enclosed brain center of the Biscuit City Network until next time when we’ll talk to another local artist.