On the Fourth Day of Christmas

Nathaniel was the grandson that went to the creek with us on the fourth day of Christmas. We chatted and laughed all the way. I saw something unfold that I would give my eyeteeth to have recorded. We were in the middle of the road approaching the four-lane divided highway. There was a double yellow line which split to go around the stop sign. Nathaniel, in his size 14 shoes, lurched from side to side as the left shoe stayed on the outer-left line, and the right followed its line. The further he went, the wider apart his feet were. He switched to the inner set of lines and went a few more feet. By then he was about my height, not his usual 6’5”, when he could go no further without falling. It was hilarious.

The rest is history. I say that because the following paragraphs have to do with the remainder of our day spent in a museum. If you are in a hurry, you can skip this and not miss anything. It’s rather dry and dusty.

Nathaniel suggested our destination, the Henderson County Heritage Museum. It was housed in the county courthouse right on Main Street. Two delightful volunteers chatted with us from time to time. One was a native of Hendersonville, and the other had grown up in Oxford, Mississippi. I’d say their accents were good examples from their areas. We found out that the Mississippi woman had been married to a serviceman and moved all over the country. Her favorite place to live was Governor’s Island just across from Manhattan. She lived there with her husband and children when John was in high school.

We spent two hours going through the small museum. John and David read every word of the display about railroads in the area. I took a long time in the room set up as a general store, and Nathaniel read the things the rest of us didn’t. There was a long interview with a veteran from World War II that was played in the war room. I had glanced at the pictures of many locals who died in various wars and found a chair to sit on while the others read. Because I wasn’t reading, I listened to that interview. The man was one of ten children. The six men were all in the service, and all survived the war. He was 90 at the time of the interview, and one sister was the only other living sibling. I was impressed at the boys’ deliberate pace and attention to details. No one pushed to go faster or skip a display.

One of the things that caught my attention was a quilt that showed various things about the county. I wondered if my blogger friend Carole ,who lives in Hendersonville, had anything to do with it. She designs quilts and posts them on her blog.  Carole’s blog is here.

We had a very late lunch in a place that billed itself as a soda fountain. Vintage dishes and Coke bottles lined the walls. There were three machines for making milkshakes, each with about five mixing arms.

We enjoyed walking up and down Main Street, watching other tourists and peering in shop windows. Both boys said they would love to live in that town! Without the mountains? Yes, they could always drive up to see us and use our mountain views.

A thrift shop was a strange magnet. We had to tear ourselves away because Christmas items were half price. We bought a ceramic church, an angel candle holder, and three mugs. I’m sure we could stock a Christmas store with all the seasonal items we own. John will be sorry he turned us loose when he has to pack up everything after Epiphany.