A public blooper deserves a public apology. I blew my son’s cover without thinking, and I am very sorry.
Walking early in the morning, I met the dog walkers in the area. It was through dogs that I met Lee, Les, John O, Autumn, and Marla. Yesterday John O accepted my spur of the moment invitation to have coffee on the porch. He had already shared his knowledge of carpenter bees with me, and I wanted him to meet the family. Son John $ arrived, Nathaniel sauntered out, and husband John returned from cardiac rehab. When John O met everyone, he commented it was like having a three-holer with three Johns there. I knew $ would love to talk to John O, because they share an interest in hiking, local history, feelings for Indians, and compassion for people displaced from Cataloochee. The conversation never lagged while I kept my mouth shut. We didn’t realize how much time went by until John’s wife drove around looking for him. At our age, it’s understandable that a wife might think her husband had dropped dead if he didn’t come home at a reasonable time. I should apologize to her while I’m at it.
This morning John O was out with terrier Hank. He said he really enjoyed the family yesterday, especially $. He said, “I’m always polite to people I meet, but I really enjoy locals like your son. He knows so much about the area.”
Before I could stop it, my mouth began to flap. I said, “John $ was born and raised in New York.”
“Really?” John O said. “You could have fooled me. He has the local accent down pat.”
I was stunned, both at my blowing $’s cover and finding that I don’t notice when my son is speaking like a New Yorker or a mountain man. I hope $ will be pleased to know that to an outsider, he belongs to this area.
Café — For the first time, someone from J Creek Café greeted me. She was the waitress having a smoke break outside and had seen me many times as I walked past. I was delighted to talk to her. She has worked at the café for 18 years. Before she told me where she grew up, I had her pegged as having a Piedmont accent. I was right! She grew up in Lincolnton, and her mother still lives there. I asked if she knew the Ramsuer family, but she didn’t. She opens the café two days a week and loves living in Fines Creek and working here. When I mentioned this happening to neighbor Shawn, she said the woman’s name is Dana. If you live here long enough, you eat at the café and know the staff.