Life Changing Experiences

Over a decade ago, I took a class at the John C Campbell Folk School that changed my life. I have learned that my experience is not unique. The Folk School is a place that changes many lives. No matter whether you take wood carving, weaving, cooking, painting or writing, it is likely you will never be the same. 

In later years when I taught writing classes at the folk school, I found that my classes often changed lives. One of my students, a retired dentist, told me he had decided to go back to school and study creative writing after spending a week at Orchard House, the photography and writing studio, writing and sharing his work with seven other people and me. 

Rebecca is on the back row in red

A young woman in her thirties discovered she could write and enjoyed writing while taking my class. She went on to earn money while writing about her walk on The Camino in Europe. She said now she is her family's historian as she writes about her life and her family for her blog, Renaissance Rebecca. She might never have done these things if she had not taken my writing class and others at the John C. Campbell Folk School. Presently she is living with her husband in Spain and her writing is filled with life there and the places she goes and the people she meets. 

She enjoys meeting and talking with strangers just as I do. She has that curiosity like me to learn about others because we all have stories to tell and I find them interesting. 

Today I read an interview with a man who visited the Folk School in Brasstown, NC to attend a wedding. Now he works for the school.

You can find a catalog online for the Folk School. Just go to their website, www.folkschool.org  

If you have taken classes there, write to me and tell me how it affected your life. It is almost a magical place.

Successful Zoom writing events

We, (NCWN-West) are continuing to hold Writers' Night Out through June on Zoom. 

This event was begun about ten years ago by Karen Holmes, an outstanding poet who lives in Atlanta but also has a home in Towns County, Georgia on Lake Chatuge. 

Karen Paul Holmes

We met in various places during those ten years and just before the pandemic struck, we were planning to meet in a new venue near the lake. But once COVID-19 invaded our world, we could not hold face-to-face meetings, so I learned how to use Zoom and suggested to Karen that we hold WNO on Zoom.

I found it to be fun and exciting to meet new writers from distant places. 

Not many of our local writers felt comfortable using Zoom and some still have trouble signing in, but we always had a good number of participants at our once-a-month online event. We used the opportunity to invite guests from distant cities and states and found some who said they deeply appreciated our holding this meeting where they could be a part of it. Some regulars are Abbie Taylor, a fellow blogger, who lives in Wyoming, and Jill Jennings, a highly published writer, who lives in Florida. Karen invited poets who published with her publisher and they came from many different places. 

Although Writers' Night Out will be ending in June 2023, for several reasons, I will miss those evenings together with writers I will not likely see in person. I hope they will continue to visit us at Mountain Wordsmiths, a Zoom meeting facilitated by Carroll S. Taylor. That group meets once a month at 10:30 AM Eastern time. In May, Carroll will host the writer Bill Lightle, author of 

Race & Politics in the American South: A Personal History

Bill grew up in Albany, Georgia where I lived half my life. We both went to the same schools. I read this book and think he will be a very interesting person to listen to on May 25. I agree with his insight into race and politics in the deep south, especially in southwest Georgia. 

To attend this online program, you will have to be invited by Carroll Taylor. Contact me and I will put you in touch so you can receive a link. 

Carroll S. Taylor

I am trying to use a different desktop computer most of the time and the Internet still doesn't recognize it so I am having problems with WiFi and internet service. I am convinced that Internet Technology is trying to make us older folk completely crazy. At times I want to throw up my hands and say, "OK. I give up. I will not touch a keyboard again."

But I am a writer and I must continue to write.  I hope to see you soon on Zoom if not in person.

What Makes us Happy?

As I sit here on this beautiful Sunday afternoon, thoughts run through my mind and concerns slide in where they are unwanted. 

First, I think about my friend, Raven, and the book signing last Saturday. Several of us gave her a book party for her first published book, "Ode to the Still Small Voice, A Memoir of Listening."   This collection pays tribute to the still, small voice crying out to be heard and heeded. Raven's poems will inspire us to stop and listen.

Raven and her cake

It is said that people are happier in their sixties and above than at any other time in their lives.

I was in my fifties when Barry and I moved to North Carolina. The first year was exciting in many ways. I began taking writing classes with Nancy Simpson, but I was homesick for my home on the farm. My parents had died and leaving the home I had always known made me sad. But the fifteen years we spent here in the mountains were the happiest times of our lives together. Barry retired shortly after we settled in so we had lots of time to explore. We had a worn and rustic Jeep Wrangler and we often packed snacks and drinks and loaded Kodi, our Samoyed, on board and drove up as many roads as we liked exploring our new territory. We bought a pontoon boat and from a quiet cove, we watched sunsets over Lake Chatuge in spring, summer, and fall. 

We should all be happy that we have lived to be old enough to be retired, free of the responsibilities we had when we were younger. Once we accept that we have run our race and have no more mountains to climb, we can relax and do things we never had time to do when we were younger. Studies show that people in their forties are the most unhappy. That is when parents are sending their children to college or worrying about teenagers getting in trouble, wondering if they have done a good job with their own lives. 

It seems to me that stress is what makes people unhappy, the stress that keeps us up at night. But if your health begins to fail about the time you are ready to say goodbye to the nine-to-five schedule, another kind of stress hits. I remember how my brother, Ray, looked forward to finally having time to play golf, play tennis, and travel with his wife to faraway places. He planned to take long vacations and see the world. He had earned that pleasure, but too soon he was diagnosed with cancer. He was told he might have three years to live. He packed as much into those three years as he possibly could. 

I like to see men and women smell the roses while they still have a job or retire early if they can so they are young enough and healthy enough to relax and just enjoy their freedom and the fruits of their labor. 

One of my nephews is selling his house in the city and is buying a house with a pool a few blocks from the beach. He is still working but is not waiting for retirement. With his children grown and on their own, he and his wife can finally have time as Barry and I did to spend time together just having fun. 

When you are in your twenties, you feel like you have forever, but the years begin to fly by, and soon you can't believe you have your fortieth birthday. In our youth worshiping culture, we hate getting older as if it is the worst thing possible, but I look at some people in their seventies, eighties, and even nineties and see how content they are just being themselves. No need to try to be the prettiest girl at the party. It ain't going to happen at that age, but if you have a nice smile and share it, learn to listen to others and be truly interested in them, try to have meaningful conversations on subjects other than politics and religion, and laugh as much as you can, I think you can find that aging is not so bad after all. I find my happiness swells from having a good conversation with a good friend or my sister. 

Have a great week, my friends. Do something you enjoy every day. Laugh as often as you can. Remember those of us who socialize and spend time with others live longer. 

Write to me and tell me your thoughts on aging. 

Ode to the Still Small Voice, A Memoir of Listening  - order from Barnes and Noble

Six Months of Healing and Learning

                                  

  Here I am back on my blog and back home in the NC mountains. 

For the past six months, I have lived in Roswell, GA while taking care of some health issues.

This week, I moved back and tonight is the first time in many months that I am alone. Lexie is snuggled in my chair beside me and I just finished my supper.

My writing studio, Carol Crawford next to the flip chart, taught this class in 2018.

I completed a writing class in March with Carol Crawford who was teaching online through the John C. Campbell Folk School. The title of the four sessions was Plot Your Memoir. The most important thing I learned was that I don't have one memoir but I have two. One is the story of my family and the other is my story with Barry. We had forty-five years together and our lives evolved in many ways. We began on the family farm in south Georgia and ended in the mountains of western North Carolina. 

I had divided my life into major turning points which included childhood, school, college, and marriage, etc. but now I will include childhood, school, and college in my family story as I tell the story of all my family from 1942 when our family moved to a farm on Fleming Road in Dougherty County Georgia. 

I enjoy writing classes and have taken many with Carol Crawford over the years I have known her. I always learn something in her classes. The folk school online courses are through a company called Lessonface, a platform that shares the Folk School’s approach to learning and was founded by former Folk School work-study student Claire Cunningham.

My plans for the summer include teaching again and completing at least one of my projects. What do you plan for the coming months? I hope you have a happy summer. I intend to. 

www.

Found Treasures in your home hold stories you can share.

As I go through items I have kept for sentimental reasons, I find that each one has a story. The story is the reason I kept the paperweight Barry gave his mother. The lovely green jar I gave Mother has a special place in my heart. The old trunk that belonged to my grandmother is very special to me and has its story, too, passed down to me by my mother.

Recently Nancy Rowland, food columnist for the Clay County Progress newspaper, featured me and my sister, Gay, in an article. Along with the recipes she printed was a photo of my sister, June's, recipe box. 

June's Recipe Box

I don't have the box in my possession. Gay has it and it is filled with many excellent recipes June used to make. Unlike Mother, June used recipes, and many of them she enhanced or altered to suit her taste. Some of the ones I like best are her Lasagna, and a dish simply called More.

In my writing classes, I often ask my students to find something in their homes, something they have kept for a long time, and write the story that goes with the object. If you write, try this prompt. Look around and find special objects you have kept for a long time. Write their stories. Include where and when you acquired it. Who gave it to you or who did it belong to in the past? Did this once belong to your grandmother or grandfather? Did a dear aunt give you a gift that you treasure? 

When we look at our keepsakes, memories usually flood our brains. We can tell about the person, the place, and the feelings evoked when we hold or look at these items.

My mother kept newspaper clippings about family members. I found wedding announcements and obituaries as well as feature articles about my siblings when they were young. 

Do you have any objects you have kept for years? Write the story that it tells you. 

Falling in love when I was a child

Pretty Thing was my horse. Gay, my sister, created this portrait of her. This special horse lived to be 32 years old. She was two years old when she came to me. 

I fell in love with horses when I was a small child. I liked the way they looked,  they smelled, and I liked the way I felt so high on their backs.

In this poem you read about the first horse I fell in love with.

My Father's Horse  

Stickers tear my legs, bare and tan from summer sun.
Long black braids fly behind me as I sprint
like a Derby winner down the path.

 

Harnessed with hames, bridle, and blinders, Charlie plods down the farm road. Tired and wet with sweat, he's perfume to my nostrils. 

 

My father swings me up. I bury my hands in the tangled mane. My thighs stick to leather and damp white hair high above the ground. 

 

I want to sing in glorious joy,  but only croon a child's nonsensical tune, grinning for a hundred yards between field and barn. 

 

My father's arms are strong.  His hands are gentle. The horse is all we ever share. For he has sons and I am just a daughter.

                      ---Glenda Council Beall

Dealing with hard times and memories of good times

It seems that every day I hear bad news about someone I know. It comes with age, I suppose, that others in my generation are ending their worldly journeys. 

But seems the children of those I know and love are dealing with sickness and hard times. I hate to see my dear friends worrying and fearful for their adult children. My nieces and nephews that I babysat when I was a teen are now dealing with illnesses such as heart trouble and other issues. 

Hearing that President Jimmy Carter is now in Hospice care brought tears to my eyes and a heaviness to my heart. He is 98 years old and has lived a good life, doing so much for so many in this world. He is the only politician I have ever totally admired and felt a kinship with. He grew up in Plains, Georgia just a short drive from my home in Dougherty County. Barry and I were big supporters. I have Carter pins and a Carter hat in a drawer at home. Barry and his friends set up a Ham Radio station in Plains on the night of the election and broadcast all over the world that Jimmy Carter was the next president of the United States.

We often drove to Plains on weekends to see the activities going on there. We heard all the Billy Carter stories and I read everything I could find about Jimmy, his mother, Miss Lillian, and the sad stories of the deaths in the family from pancreatic cancer. 

When Jimmy Carter was governor of Georgia, I was busy with my young life and hardly paid any attention. But when he decided that he, a south Georgia peanut farmer, was running for president of the United States, we all sat up and paid attention. My brother, Hal, knew him through the Lions Club. Hal was once the District Governor of his region and so was Jimmy Carter. 

I recently learned that the future president got into politics because of the harsh statements of Georgia leadership about segregation. 

Carter did not like or believe that schools and public places should be separated between white and black people. The black population had very poor schools, often having to use worn-out books from the white schools if they even had books. The buildings were subpar and in bad shape.

I think when the racist Atlanta restaurant owner was elected governor of Georgia, Carter felt he must do something if he could. President Carter has always championed the underdog or the people who were unjustly mistreated in our society. He appointed more women and black people to office when he was president than all his predecessors combined. 

I recently listened to his TED talk about the mistreatment of women all over the world. He was adamant about the rise in sex trafficking of girls and women and I know he has done all he could to stop that horrible crime. If only we had more Jimmy Carters in this world. He used the influence gained from being the president to do fantastic things for third-world countries. His work with the Carter Center in Atlanta is outstanding.  

The Carter Center
Waging Peace. Fighting Disease. Building Hope.

A not-for-profit, nongovernmental organization, The Carter Center has helped to improve life for people in over 80 countries by resolving conflicts; advancing democracy, human rights, and economic opportunity; preventing diseases; and improving mental health care. The Carter Center was founded in 1982 by former U.S. President Jimmy Carter and former First Lady Rosalynn Carter, in partnership with Emory University, to advance peace and health worldwide.

I have several of his books and I highly recommend them. I ordered two more of them tonight. You can find them on Amazon.com.  

I heard President Carter say that he has confidence in our country in spite of the past few years of upheaval. He said he had confidence in the American people and I trust he is right. I know he has been a role model for others and I hope his inspiration helps create many good men and women who follow in his footsteps. 

We need them.

Never too late - Make your change today!

In May 1995, Barry and I moved to Hayesville, NC having no idea how our lives would change.

A few months later, I would meet Nancy Simpson on the phone after I registered for membership in the North Carolina Writers' Network. She invited me to take the poetry class she taught at the John C. Campbell Folk School.

I had not planned to take a writing class, especially not poetry, but had hoped I could learn more about writing in North Carolina from the quarterly newsletter mailed to me by NC Writers' Network. I knew nothing about the folk school which was only a twenty-minute drive from my new home in the mountains.

Although I had been writing most of my life starting with stories in high school and a poem or two in class. My English teacher liked a poem I turned in for an assignment, and told me I should submit it to a magazine. That was all I was told and since I had no idea what magazine might accept my poem, I did nothing with it and was pleased she thought I had written something worthy of publication.

I had not shared my writing with anyone and did not know if I could write or not.

But Nancy talked me into taking her class. "It's free," she said. "I'm offering you a scholarship." Nancy had seen my name on a list of new members of  NCWN-West, a program she headed and helped create in the far western part of the state.

How could I possibly turn down such an invitation? Nervous and self-conscious, I attended the first class. It was taught in the Orchard House, one of the old farmhouses on the campus that served as a dormitory for students and also classrooms for writers and photographers. I fell in love with the living room right away. We sat on a sofa and overstuffed chairs as well as plain wood straight chairs. I immediately felt at home.

That day, that class, that place, and Nancy Simpson changed my life completely.

That was my first writing class but not my last. I registered for many classes at the folk school with great teachers who came from other places in North Carolina and from other states. Nancy knew so many writers and she invited them to come to John C. Campbell Folk School to teach.

Because I was a local resident and didn't require sleeping quarters, my tuition was discounted. That was the reason I could afford to take classes there. I began publishing my work the next year after taking classes and joining the network. As years passed, I began teaching beginning writers sharing what I had learned.

Nancy Simpson was the Writer in Residence at the folk school. She called me one day and asked if I would teach a weekend class. The original instructor had to cancel.

The day I turned the lock and walked into a classroom to teach for the first time at the folk school, I almost wept with gratitude. I will always remember the students who came and who were disappointed that the instructor who was originally listed for that weekend, was not coming. 

But the evaluation sheets handed in after class gave me high praise for knowing my subject well and all seemed very satisfied with my class. I knew another door had been opened for me. Soon I was teaching a weeklong class every year at JCCFS and teaching adult education for writers in the local junior college.

My first weeklong class taught at John C. Campbell Folk School

If you like to write and want to further your education in writing poetry or prose, fiction or nonfiction, I urge you to start with classes at the John C. Campbell Folk School.  You will never regret it.

See this information from the folk school website:

https://www.folkschool.org/find-a-class/writing/

Local Discount Program Information

For Our Neighbors:

The Folk School is proud to offer 25% off tuition and a guaranteed spot upon registration to people living in the following counties:

North Carolina: Cherokee, Clay, Macon, Swain, and Graham
Georgia: Fannin, Towns, Union
Tennessee: Polk

Those looking to receive this benefit are required to present one of the following, showing proof of local address: a valid driver’s license, voter registration card, tax bill, or utility bill.