That apple pickin' woman of mine

The title of this week's column sounds like a country music song; however, it really refers to my wife, Stella's, passion for apple picking. For the past several years, she has communicated with my brother in Spindale and has "googled" our computer to find the date that marks the beginning of the apple harvesting season in North Carolina. Once she secures the date (usually in October), Stella gets to work convincing me that God wants us to plan a weekend in the mountains, her apple picking Garden of Eden.

This year I was fortunate (oops, I mean disappointed) not to have to go on the pilgrimage to apple land. My wife and her girl friend from Charleston, South Carolina decided to make the trip a "Thelma and Louise" adventure. They spent three wonderful days in Henderson and Polk counties, shopping, visiting Carl Sandburg's home, and of course picking apples near Flat Rock. They also got to attend the Polk County fair near the blockhouse. My wife and her friend were spellbound with the beauty of hunting country and thoroughly enjoyed the "down home atmosphere" of the fair.

The two ladies returned home with a car filled with country treasures.

Stella had picked several bushels of various genuses of apples ranging from Granny Smiths to Winesap (most of them are still in the refrigerator in the garage). She also brought my son a quart of apple cider (not hard).

I really don't understand the "appeal" (pun intended) that picking apples off a tree has for my wife. She insists that freshly picked apples taste better than those bought in the grocery store because grocery store apples are picked too early. I'm sure she is correct, but I still struggle to tell the difference. I guess that it is just a "core" belief of hers (I promise to stop the puns!)

In short, Even though my wife was born in Greece, she is as American as... What kind of pie is
that?

Footnotes: My last column was about Coaches Neal and Barry who coached at Tryon High School in the sixties and early seventies. Ironically, I received an e-mail from one of "Coach Neal's girls," Lynne (Wilson) Hamrick. She remembered that Neal had taught her to drive in Driver's Education Class. Lynne recalls a harrowing experience when she met an oncoming car on a curve. She was driving too fast, but managed to avoid the car. She was amazed that Coach Neal kept his composure during that and other incidents while teaching students to drive.

I also received an e-mail from Linda Rawlins, a former Tryonite whose mother taught at Tryon High School. Linda recalls classmates Andy Hancock, Newt Raft, and Ricky Gosnell. She also lauds Larry Phillips for keeping the class of 1965 in touch with each other.

Finally, I received an e-mail from Herb Edwards who now lives in Black Mountain, N.C. Herb recalls playing on the 1945 Tryon High School football team that went undefeated. He remembers playing with Fred Eargle and was thrilled to read about Fred in the Bulletin (Where are they now?). Herbert was anxious to e-mail Fred to reminisce about their days in Tryon.

s.hefner@comcast.net