Editor’s Column

Elizabeth Hudson

Old recipes

This is the Fayetteville Street Christian School cookbook I made when I was in kindergarten in 1975. It’s old and yellowed now. It’s barely held together with a frayed piece of yarn. The recipes in it are crudely typewritten, and
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Elizabeth Hudson

The stars at night

The fire tower at the top of Dave’s Mountain in Asheboro is 100 feet tall, and it was built in 1950, and I wonder how many teenage boys — how many Asheboro High School kids in 1954, say, or 1967
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kitchen table 700

Listening. A love story

In the late 1960s, a woman named Susie — my mother before she was my mother — worked as a waitress at the Sheraton Hotel in Greensboro. She sparkled with personality, and before long, the management promoted her to hostess
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Jan 2013 snow cream 700

Snow cream, simply

Once, before there were 24-hour weather channels and everything got so fancy, there was simply Frank Deal, weatherman, on Channel 8. He gave his nightly forecasts standing in front of what looked like a homemade map. He moved around stick-on
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Elizabeth Hudson-purple

A handmade Christmas

In 1982, my mother started tying bows to sell in her crafts shop. Back then, there weren’t any big-box arts and crafts shops; no Michaels or Hobby Lobbys. There wasn’t even a Walmart. People came in to her store every
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Elizabeth Hudson

What our soil holds

The soil in North Carolina makes me think of the dust kicked up by the school bus that sped down the dirt road behind my parents’ house after it dropped me off on those cool, fall days. I watched the
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Elizabeth Hudson

Where hospitality lives

My great-grandmother, Jessie Mabel Coble — “Granny” to my mother — lived in a two-story wooden farmhouse out in the country in Julian. The siding on the house wasn’t painted, and the front porch didn’t have any underpinnings. Chickens ran
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basketball goal

Larger than Life

In 1982, the Tar Heels won the NCAA championship. I sat in the den with my dad and watched the game with him on a Magnavox television that weighed more than I did. I didn’t know anything about basketball, except
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Elizabeth Hudson

Season of Plenty

The tomatoes have finally come in. They’re spread out all over the old wooden tables at the Greensboro Farmers Curb Market. Piled up in crates behind the tables. Clustered in bags beneath the tables. There are the Better Boys and
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Elizabeth Hudson

Places Like This

You know what kind of place this is. You can tell by the information rack in the doorway, bulging with real estate guidebooks and Auto Weekly newspapers. A metal “Seat yourself” sign points you to the interior of the restaurant.
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