No Point Intended

Brooke Wolfe got me hooked on The Avett Brothers many moons ago, when she played “When I drink” for me while we were going to an assignment together. And I am now happy to report that I have passed the gift on to Chelsea Kellner.

This band is from the Charlotte area and I think I have heard a rumor that they actually played a birthday party in Sanford a couple of years back. I doubt we’ll be so lucky to have them come back any time soon, but they are playing in Cary later this month. If I can scrounge enough money, I may have to make that trip.

Above is my favorite song by the Avetts, and is one of the best of the new bluegrass songs out (besides Wagon Wheel by OCMS, of course.) It’s called “If It’s the Beaches.” Enjoy.

Somehow or another, we coaxed our new sportswriter, Ryan Sarda, to come over to Depot Park and take pictures during yesterday’s fiasco. He did an excellent job. Here are a few of his shots.

To all my fans out there, I am sorry. I let you all down yesterday at the Family Fun Fourth Festival (or whatever it was called), narrowly falling to Lee County EDC Director Bob Heuts in the pie eating contest. My eating helmet let me down this time, even though it pulled me through the Andy’s Challenge. I finished second, which according to many a No Fear shirt is first loser status.

So here’s my excuse. I was rounding third and heading towards home with the pie, when I realized my crust as stuck to the pan. As I could not use my hands, I had to break it up with my nose. When I went to do that, half my crust slipped out onto the table without me realizing it. When I finished what I thought was my whole pie, I was well ahead of Bob and thought I was victorious. Then an audience member pointed out the extra pie crust on the table, and I had to eat it, too, which gave Bob the win.

I am officially crying foul and Heuts’ victory is under protest with the league, for two reasons. First, I am pretty sure someone sabotaged me by pressing my pie crust into the pan before the contest, making it stick. My money is on either Billy Liggett, who has always been jealous of my eat feats, or that turncoat Gordon Anderson, who was my trainer for my 2007 Carrboro Sausage eating victory and my Andy’s Challenge upset but then mysteriously decided he wanted to compete in the pie eating contest.

Second, I am pretty sure that Bob has used up all of his eligibility from his days on the N.C. State basketball team. He should have never been able to enter such a contest to begin with.

Nonetheless, a good time was had by all. Well, I felt a little sick afterwards, but hey. It’s all in a day’s work for a champion such as myself. And I guarantee that if the contest were how many pies you could eat and not how fast you could eat one pie, I would have been triumphant.

I think Billy will post the video from the contest on his blog later, and I will update this post with pictures as well.

OK, so I’ve really been into the show “The Most” on the History Channel lately. It points out the extremes through history and current life. It’s hosted by the guy from Dirty Jobs. I’m not sure if they are still making episodes or if I am just watching reruns, but you should check it out when you have time.

I have a suggestion for the show. Here is my nomination for The Most Cutest Picture Ever. You can’t beat it.

By now you have heard the news. Lee County Superintendent Jim McCormick stepped down yesterday amid allegations of “immoral conduct.” We may never know just what that means, but suffice it to say that the rumor mill is rampant. If there is one thing I’ve found in the four years I have been in Sanford, it is that this town loves a good rumor.

But I am not going to go there. Instead, I’ll just tell you about my experiences with McCormick. Though standoffish at times, even defensive, during interviews, I always found him to be a hospitable and engaging man on a personal level. I have attended several Rotary meetings and chamber luncheons in the last two years, and I am confident in saying that McCormick never once blew me off. He was always friendly, no matter how much fire my stories had brought on him.

I began covering the schools two years ago, right in the middle of the district’s struggles with test scores and drop out rates. It was a tough time to cut my teeth as an education reporter, but McCormick, the school board and the staff at the Heins Building were always approachable. For that, I’ll always be grateful.

I for one wish that it all had not turned out the way it did. But all you can do is move on. Hopefully McCormick lands on his feet and the district finds a strong leader to guide it through these difficult times.

This week, we at The Herald have been taking a closer look at the smaller restaurants on the outskirts of Sanford proper that usually buzz with activity at lunchtime. So far, the response to the series has been tremendous.

The impetus for the series was two-fold, actually. One, Gordon Anderson and I came up with the idea for one story on the various restaurants the other week when I was scrounging for a business story. Then during our weekly meeting, our boss Billy Liggett decided he wanted a series on them for the front page, stealing, as he often does, my business feature for the week. Which is why you got a story on dogs at work on your Sunday business section.

But when Gordon threw the idea out at me before the meeting, I also thought of the restaurants I grew up on as a child. I grew up in Westmoore, a suburb of Robbins, N.C., and all we had was little country restaurants. And as a wee boy, my dad would take me and my cousin Kyle to lunch with him every day to one of them.

It all starts with Sam’s, ran by Sam Allred, an icon in Westmoore, who made the best milkshakes in the world. Coincidentally, his grill was the starting point for many a drag race for my dad growing up. And according to Daddy, who told us these stories every time we went to Sam’s, his 1966 Chevelle was unbeatable.

But Sam, who was one of my good friend’s grandpa, died when I was young and the grill closed. We were forced to branch out, eating at places as diverse as Seagrove Family Restaurant, which put pickles on top of the hamburger bun, the Dairy Breeze, which put god-awful vinegar-based slaw on cheeseburgers, Shirley’s Fried Chicken, which had a picture of Shirley the owner dressed in Colonel Sanders attire hanging behind the register, and of course, the Chicken Hut, which I ate at almost daily in high school as it was the hot afterschool hangout spot.

But today in Robbins, as it has been all along for the grown-ups, I think, there are two kings of all little country restaurant. First there is Little Village Restaurant, located in Robbins proper. This is the quintessential tiny diner, with only about 10-15 booths and tables to sit in, the regular hamburger and hot dog plates as well as specials and desserts to die for. But what makes it unique is that it is THE place to be seen in Robbins. Everyone eats there at one point or another during the day. It is so popular that John Edwards, Robbins’ favored son (or unfavored son, depending on who you ask), filmed a couple of his presidential campaign commercials there in both 2004 and 2008.

But if you are looking for a little more upscale experience, you have to go to Westmoore Family Restaurant in downtown Westmoore. Actually, this place IS downtown Westmoore, much as the Fastop Grill is in Lemon Springs. Owned by Tommy and Shirley Kennedy, this is one of the cleanest, nicest restaurants any small town in America offers. And their broiled flounder is off the chain.

The best part about going back to Robbins is that I am not Jonathan Owens, reporter. I am still Boyd and Carolyn’s little boy, and anytime I go in to either of these I am almost guaranteed a free meal from one of Daddy’s friends. You can’t beat it.

When I went away to college, I so longed for the tiny restaurant atmosphere. Luckily there was Sutton’s on Franklin Street in Chapel Hill, where a small-town country boy like myself could rub elbows with basketball players while enjoying a cheeseburger, as well as the Sunrise Biscuit Kitchen, which still has the best chicken biscuit I have ever tasted.

And I am so lucky to have made my way to Sanford, where I have found many a hidden gem to dine at daily. I will take a little country restaurant over a big chain Applebee’s or fast food joint anyday, and I am happy that we endeavored onto this series to give them the credit they deserve.

I often consider myself left of center on must issues. I don’t like paying taxes, but as long as it goes to something that will make life in these United States just a little less grueling, I’ll accept it.

But yesterday, when I got home from work, I was reminded why that is not always the case. I swear this happened. I could not make it up.

So as you notice from my previous post, I finally received my economic stimulus check on Saturday — a full month after it was promised. But I’m not complaining. I need all the money I can get.

Well, on Monday, I received a letter from the IRS informing me that I had qualified for the rebate and would be receiving it shortly. You know, the same letter that the government spent $42 million creating and processing!!! A day after I received the check.

So does this mean I am entitled to another check? I hope so!

Honestly, this is enough to make a man want to vote Republican, if, of course, this mishap did not occur on a Republican president’s watch. And of course, the failing war and economic is enough to change his mind back. This has to be the most confusing time in American History. Even when the government tries to pacify its people with checks, it screws it up.

I’m moving.

After weeks of worrying and several cans of Spaghetti Rings, I finally received my Welfare…umm, I mean Economic Stimulus…check Saturday from Uncle Sam. 600 big ones!

So how am I going to stimulate the economy? Well, I started Sunday by buying a pair of shoes and some new khakis for work. Oh, and a full tank of gas. Not too exciting, I know. But every little bit helps, I guess. I figure though that after paying off my bills and the rent this month, I won’t really have a lot to blow.

Therein lies the problem with this program. No one has any money to begin with. Everyone is in debt. So I guess this check just helps the creditors, though it does little for the economy because people are basically getting caught up.

But I’m not complaining. Thanks Uncle Sam.

Let me preface this with two points: A. I have been a fan of canned pasta meals since I was a a little boy. I think it is a product of my time at Miss Louise’s Day Care, where many a lunch was spent enjoying ABC’s & 123’s. I guess she thought it would help us learn our letters and numbers. For the rest of my life, I am sure I will celebrate the entire Chef Boyardee catalog.

B. I have had two very exciting post-work afternoons in a row. Tuesday I found Billy’s dog on my back porch - while heating up a can of Chef Boyardee, no less. And yesterday, I saw something amazing and tragic at the same time.

So here’s what happened. After a long nap (I had to get up at 5:30 for Billy’s radio show), my colleague Chelsea Kellner called me just as I was about to heat up my last can of Spaghetti Rings and Meatballs to ask if I wanted to go to the gym. But seeing as how I really wanted my “pasta”, I declined. After a few minutes of making fun of me while I poured my food out of the can and into a pottery bowl (that I made myself, no less!), Chelsea and I ended our conversation and I turned toward the microwave, bowl of red and yellow goodness in hand, ready to brave the minute-30 seconds it takes to heat it up.

But just as I reached for the microwave door, I dropped my bowl. I immediately figured all was lost, and I felt a tinge of the sadness Billy and Jennifer felt Tuesday. But I have to say, it was still pretty cool. When the bowl hit the floor (and didn’t break, by the way. Gotta love that strong Owens Pottery!!!) Spaghetti rings went everywhere in a red and yellow fountain that Old Faithful would have been proud of. Red sauce and meatballs and rings everywhere, from the ceiling to the kitchen window to the oven to the refrigerator. It was sad and beautiful at the same time.

The best part was, the bowl landed upright and I was able to salvage about half of my meal. While it was heating up, I got out the mop, cleaned the kitchen and it was all good. But having just a half-bowl of Chef Boyardee only whets your appetite, so I had to enjoy a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios as well.

I guess I have a thing for round foods. Anyway, I seriously recommend dropping a bowl of spaghetti rings just to watch the fireworks that ensue. That should be an Olympic sport!