Our son $ (short for $pencer) came over especially to be with John’s cousin Peter who was here for a couple of nights. Peter is a most interesting person who draws the family like a magnet. I should have had many anecdotes to write about, but my head recorder was not operating properly.
Perhaps other places in my head were not quite right. When discussing where we’d go for barbeque, I mentioned Haywood Smokehouse, only it didn’t come out that way. I said “Smokewood Hayhouse.”
No matter what I called it, we all enjoyed chicken, brisket, and pulled pork. The table was littered with barbecue sauces. We had sweet red, Piedmont, big Texas, Carolina, strawberry chipotle, and japple (jalapeno and apple). Those were only the ones we requested from the menu. I wish I’d counted the choices.
I’m not sure the others were around when I asked $ about the wild fire raging near his place in Hot Springs. It was exciting to watch helicopters scooping water from the French Broad River to dump on the fire. There were more people around, too, because the Appalachian Trail goes right through the town. Parts of the trail were closed because of the fire. There was lots of smoke. $ said he went outside carrying a cigarette, but instead of lighting it, he said to himself, “What’s the point?”
John spoke of historical trains coming into Asheville. The same company had trains coming in on two different time zones. Back then the line went near or through the city. $ found a map with the old boundaries and showed Peter. They were intent enough on the image that they didn’t protest publicly when I took their photograph.