By Joann M. Ringelstetter
In April, 2010, on the fifth day of a two-week photography trip, Ruth and I stopped at Baynes General Store, located at a rural crossroads in Caswell County, North Carolina. There has been a general store at this crossroads for around 160 years. Baynes General Store has been operating pretty much continuously for the past 100 years.
The current store was built circa 1907 and it was called Baynes and Harrelson until 1920, when Mr. Baynes paid his debt to Mr. Harrelson and renamed the store Baynes General Store. Since the store’s beginning, people of all ages have come to buy groceries, snacks, drinks, tobacco, clothes, and other necessities. If they didn’t have cash, they would trade something they had, such as livestock, milk, or eggs.
Because the store is located in a sparsely populated rural area, it has always been a place where people gather for both formal and informal meetings. In the old days, a Caswell County judge and bailiff held court in the store once a week. People came and continue to come to gossip, shoot the breeze, discuss local and national politics, or just hang out with friends and acquaintances. When we arrived at the store, there were numerous cars parked on the side and in front, people going in and out, and others chatting on the porch.
We pulled in and parked our car on the side of the store. As we got out, a man named Wallace, who was sitting on the porch steps was looking at our Wisconsin license plate. Then the following conversation took place:
Wallace: “You from Beaver Dam?” (a city northeast of Madison, Wisconsin)
Joann: “No.”
Wallace: “Oh, you from Harken?”
Joann: “Pardon me?”
Wallace: “You from Harken? I have friends that live by Harken Marsh.
Joann: “Oh, Horicon Marsh? No, we’re from Madison.”
I mean no disrespect by this, but I knew our conversation might be a little challenging due to his southern accent. So I’m going to respectfully put the phonetic spelling on a couple of words in this story so you see what I mean.
We told Wallace that we had been seeing plowed fields with raised rows of dirt and we were wondering what was being planted there. He told us they were getting ready to plant tobacco. Some farms were planting as much as 150 acres of tobacco. Tobacco is a very labor-intensive crop, so we commented on the amount of work involved in that.
As we talked with Wallace, his friends, Irving and Lawrence sat nearby listening. Well, Lawrence mostly listened. Irving, on the other hand, gave Wallace a hard time.
We told them that we grew up on a dairy farm. Wallace said there wasn’t much corn being raised in “Colina” (Carolina); it was mostly tobacco. Then he said that he had taken a trip once to Chicago and didn’t see any corn. But then he drove west of Chicago and it was “all corn, corn, corn.”
Wallace started talking about “the stuff made from corn that sweetens soda pop.” He said he couldn’t remember what it was called, but it was some kind of syrup. Well, that got Irving going and the following conversation took place:
Irving: “Fructose corn syrup. If you don’t know something, ask somebody.”
Wallace: “So you’re from Madison? Is that the capital of Wisconsin?”
Irving: “Yeah, you ought to know that from the 5th grade.”
Joann: “Are we playing, ‘Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?”
Irving: “Well, Wallace only went as far as the 6th grade.”
Even though there was a lot of talking and laughing going on, Wallace’s faithful companion, Buster, relaxed at Wallace’s feet.
Wallace: “I went to Milwaukee once.”
Irving: “I don’t like big cities.”
Wallace: “I went to New York City in 1957 and I would never go back. I don’t know why anyone would want to go to New York City. There’s too many “payple” (people).
Irving: “Well, if you didn’t like it in 1957, it’s 150 times worse now!”
Wallace said he had been a farmer his whole life and that he was planning to raise about 20 acres of tobacco that year. Then he tried talking us into traveling about 12 miles off of our planned route to go see his tobacco barns, which he said were kind of run-down. So, we politely passed on his offer and told these gentlemen how much we enjoyed visiting with them. They told us to have a good trip.
When you take a trip to another state, I encourage you to do some shunpiking on the backroads and to visit places like Baynes General Store. You never know who you’ll meet or what you’ll learn.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Shunpiking To Heaven Backroads Blog
Showing posts with label North Carolina. Show all posts
Showing posts with label North Carolina. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 24, 2018
Thursday, April 12, 2018
St John’s Church and Cemetery
By Ruth A. Ringelstetter
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes. Just click on the desired photo and look for the blue “BUY” button.
It was the third morning of our 2010 trip to North Carolina, but our first morning there in the mountains. It was raining heavily that morning as we arrived at our first stop -- the historic Mast General Store.
As soon as we finished at the store, we moved on. Our next stop was the historic St. John’s Episcopal Church and Cemetery. It was still raining a little when we arrived at the church, but at least it wasn’t pouring.
The little frame church, built in the Gothic style, with simple stained glass windows was completed in 1860. William West Skiles, who was a deacon, was the driving force behind the building of the church. The church was completed for a cost of $700, including $40 paid for the stained glass windows, shipped in from New York.
The church was consecrated two years later in August of 1862. This celebration was the last time William Skiles would see his beloved church as his health was failing and he died two short months later. He was buried in the churchyard.
In 1882, the church was removed in sections to a spot higher up on the Watauga River, and put together again. This is the spot where the church stands today. In 1889, the remains of Reverend Skiles were removed from the old site and moved to the new church and cemetery location.
Even though it was a rainy morning, we knew this could be our only visit to this church, so Joann made her way around the church photographing as she went. Behind the church, and unseen from the road, stands an old outhouse.
From the cemetery, you can look off into the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance. The cemetery is small, but it is one of the oldest in the area.
The church went through several decades of neglect before it was totally restored and now is used for a Sunday mass from Memorial Day to Labor Day, as well as being a wedding venue. Summer concerts are also held in the church with a picnic supper afterwards.
Just across the road from the church was an old gambrel-roof barn. There didn’t appear to be any other remnants of a farm, and we just couldn’t resist taking some photos before moving on down the road.
If you get to the Valle Crucis area, be sure to do some backroads exploring. It would be well worth your time!
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes. Just click on the desired photo and look for the blue “BUY” button.
It was the third morning of our 2010 trip to North Carolina, but our first morning there in the mountains. It was raining heavily that morning as we arrived at our first stop -- the historic Mast General Store.
As soon as we finished at the store, we moved on. Our next stop was the historic St. John’s Episcopal Church and Cemetery. It was still raining a little when we arrived at the church, but at least it wasn’t pouring.
The little frame church, built in the Gothic style, with simple stained glass windows was completed in 1860. William West Skiles, who was a deacon, was the driving force behind the building of the church. The church was completed for a cost of $700, including $40 paid for the stained glass windows, shipped in from New York.
The church was consecrated two years later in August of 1862. This celebration was the last time William Skiles would see his beloved church as his health was failing and he died two short months later. He was buried in the churchyard.
In 1882, the church was removed in sections to a spot higher up on the Watauga River, and put together again. This is the spot where the church stands today. In 1889, the remains of Reverend Skiles were removed from the old site and moved to the new church and cemetery location.
Even though it was a rainy morning, we knew this could be our only visit to this church, so Joann made her way around the church photographing as she went. Behind the church, and unseen from the road, stands an old outhouse.
From the cemetery, you can look off into the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance. The cemetery is small, but it is one of the oldest in the area.
The church went through several decades of neglect before it was totally restored and now is used for a Sunday mass from Memorial Day to Labor Day, as well as being a wedding venue. Summer concerts are also held in the church with a picnic supper afterwards.
Just across the road from the church was an old gambrel-roof barn. There didn’t appear to be any other remnants of a farm, and we just couldn’t resist taking some photos before moving on down the road.
If you get to the Valle Crucis area, be sure to do some backroads exploring. It would be well worth your time!
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Saturday, May 13, 2017
The Old Porch
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes. Just click on the desired photo and look for the blue “BUY” button.
Sunday, May 14, is Mother’s Day and this story is dedicated to my mother, Dorothy Rose Barman Ringelstetter. Memories fade over time, so the storyteller in me might be embellishing things a bit, but it is mostly an accurate picture of how things were.
A well-worn path led from the driveway to the enclosed back porch of the old farmhouse on Elder Lane. The weathered wooden steps were often covered with dew in the early morning shade.
On one side of the porch steps, along the full length of the front of the house, was a colorful parade of flowers, each one opening up in its own time to the morning light. There were bright pink bleeding hearts, one of Mom’s favorites, usually blooming around Mother’s Day.
There were tulips of ivory, primrose, and crimson colors, waiting to be picked and admired in a bouquet of fresh flowers.
And delicate lilies of the valley surrounded all the other flowers and were a beautiful addition to a vase filled with spring flowers.
Shortly after the bleeding hearts and tulips had faded away, there were bright purple irises to brighten our days.
As spring gave way to summer, there were multi-colored gladiolas to enjoy.
On the other side of the steps, a white trellis leaned against the side of the porch. It was covered with periwinkle morning glories that had not yet acknowledged the dawn. A cool breeze often carried the sweet smell of the honeysuckle bush on that corner of the porch.
In the morning, after milking cows, feeding calves, and cleaning the barn, we would follow Dad into the old porch, eager to fill our hungry stomachs with a hearty breakfast. The heavy wooden screen door would slam behind us as we set down the galvanized milk pails full of fresh milk, slipped off our barn boots, and hung up our jackets.
In the mornings, the sun streamed into the east windows of the porch, flooding the wooden floorboards with warmth and splashing against the side of a dilapidated commode that stood just inside the door. The light oak veneer was peeling and faded from the southern exposure to the sun. The drawers were sticky and the handles were loose and mismatched. The top was covered with yellowed newspaper that was stuck to the commode in places. This ramshackle piece of furniture signaled the change in seasons as surely as did the change in the weather.
In the spring, plastic trays were crowded together on top of the newspaper, each one filled with seedlings that were bending toward the sunlight.
In the summer, it held boxes of fresh Georgia peaches, ripening in their crinkly pink tissues and waiting for the chance to drip down somebody’s chin. There were also tomatoes and pears ripening on the windowsills.
In the fall, a bushel basket or two of crisp Macintosh apples stood in the autumn sunlight, soon to be made into applesauce or apple crisp. And in the winter, hot pumpkin or apple pies warmed the top of the commode as they cooled in the chilly air.
Year ‘round, Mondays were wash days in the old porch. Luckily, the porch was pretty big because there were usually seven or eight piles of dirty clothes that had been separated by color and type. This was always the scene on wash day, when Mom started washing at the crack of dawn in order to get everything hung on the clothesline early enough to get dry before dusk.
Each pile would be washed in the wringer washing machine, pushed through the wringer to wring out the soapy water, rinsed by hand in the steel tub connected to the washing machine, tediously pushed through the wringer again (which had been swung from the washer to the steel rinsing tub) to wring out the rinse water, and then hung out to dry. I can still hear the sound of the wringer washing machine, wearily churning a load of heavy overalls.
And I can still remember how tired Mom looked sometimes, working on the farm and taking care of us and all of our needs. She worked from before sun-up until way past sun-down most days and she rarely complained. We owe a lot to her for all she did for us and for helping to shape us into the individuals we are today. This July, it will be 34 years since she left us. We know she is enjoying her rewards in heaven, but we still miss her very much.
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom, and Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes. Just click on the desired photo and look for the blue “BUY” button.
Sunday, May 14, is Mother’s Day and this story is dedicated to my mother, Dorothy Rose Barman Ringelstetter. Memories fade over time, so the storyteller in me might be embellishing things a bit, but it is mostly an accurate picture of how things were.
A well-worn path led from the driveway to the enclosed back porch of the old farmhouse on Elder Lane. The weathered wooden steps were often covered with dew in the early morning shade.
On one side of the porch steps, along the full length of the front of the house, was a colorful parade of flowers, each one opening up in its own time to the morning light. There were bright pink bleeding hearts, one of Mom’s favorites, usually blooming around Mother’s Day.
There were tulips of ivory, primrose, and crimson colors, waiting to be picked and admired in a bouquet of fresh flowers.
And delicate lilies of the valley surrounded all the other flowers and were a beautiful addition to a vase filled with spring flowers.
Shortly after the bleeding hearts and tulips had faded away, there were bright purple irises to brighten our days.
As spring gave way to summer, there were multi-colored gladiolas to enjoy.
On the other side of the steps, a white trellis leaned against the side of the porch. It was covered with periwinkle morning glories that had not yet acknowledged the dawn. A cool breeze often carried the sweet smell of the honeysuckle bush on that corner of the porch.
In the morning, after milking cows, feeding calves, and cleaning the barn, we would follow Dad into the old porch, eager to fill our hungry stomachs with a hearty breakfast. The heavy wooden screen door would slam behind us as we set down the galvanized milk pails full of fresh milk, slipped off our barn boots, and hung up our jackets.
In the mornings, the sun streamed into the east windows of the porch, flooding the wooden floorboards with warmth and splashing against the side of a dilapidated commode that stood just inside the door. The light oak veneer was peeling and faded from the southern exposure to the sun. The drawers were sticky and the handles were loose and mismatched. The top was covered with yellowed newspaper that was stuck to the commode in places. This ramshackle piece of furniture signaled the change in seasons as surely as did the change in the weather.
In the spring, plastic trays were crowded together on top of the newspaper, each one filled with seedlings that were bending toward the sunlight.
In the summer, it held boxes of fresh Georgia peaches, ripening in their crinkly pink tissues and waiting for the chance to drip down somebody’s chin. There were also tomatoes and pears ripening on the windowsills.
In the fall, a bushel basket or two of crisp Macintosh apples stood in the autumn sunlight, soon to be made into applesauce or apple crisp. And in the winter, hot pumpkin or apple pies warmed the top of the commode as they cooled in the chilly air.
Year ‘round, Mondays were wash days in the old porch. Luckily, the porch was pretty big because there were usually seven or eight piles of dirty clothes that had been separated by color and type. This was always the scene on wash day, when Mom started washing at the crack of dawn in order to get everything hung on the clothesline early enough to get dry before dusk.
Each pile would be washed in the wringer washing machine, pushed through the wringer to wring out the soapy water, rinsed by hand in the steel tub connected to the washing machine, tediously pushed through the wringer again (which had been swung from the washer to the steel rinsing tub) to wring out the rinse water, and then hung out to dry. I can still hear the sound of the wringer washing machine, wearily churning a load of heavy overalls.
And I can still remember how tired Mom looked sometimes, working on the farm and taking care of us and all of our needs. She worked from before sun-up until way past sun-down most days and she rarely complained. We owe a lot to her for all she did for us and for helping to shape us into the individuals we are today. This July, it will be 34 years since she left us. We know she is enjoying her rewards in heaven, but we still miss her very much.
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom, and Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Monday, November 9, 2015
Honoring America’s Civil War Veterans
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
This year marked the 150th anniversary of the end of the Civil War, which began on April 12, 1861 when Confederate troops opened fire on Union-held Fort Sumter in South Carolina and officially ended on April 9, 1865 when Robert E. Lee surrendered to Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox Courthouse in Virginia. However, it took weeks before word of this surrender was received across the country, so the last battle took place on May 13, 1865 at Palmito Ranch in Texas.
There are many causes for the Civil War. While the Northern regions became more and more industrialized, the Southern regions remained primarily agricultural. This caused different political beliefs and social cultures to develop, leading to disagreements about taxes, tariffs, and states’ rights.
The most divisive issue, however, appears to have been the dispute over whether the national government had the power to prohibit slavery in territories that were not yet states. When Abraham Lincoln pledged to prevent slavery from being established in the territories, seven deep South states seceded, forming a new nation called the Confederate States of America.
When the war started, the combined population of the Northern states was about 22 million, while the combined population of the Southern states was about 9 million. Thus, there were roughly twice as many Union soldiers as Confederate soldiers. The average age of the Union soldiers was about 25 and the average age of the Confederate soldiers is unknown, but towards the end of the war, young boys and old men were being pressed into service.
As battles were waged across the nation, families found themselves in the middle of battlefields, often seeking safety in their cellars when the fighting closed in on their homes.
In Arkansas, during the Battle of Prairie Grove in December, 1862, the conflict developed so quickly that families living near the battlefield had no time to flee. So they took shelter in cellars like this one, which has been preserved at Prairie Grove Battlefield State Park. Although this battle ended in one day, there were about 2,700 total Union and Confederate casualties.
Other families were forced to give up their homes to serve as field hospitals or battle headquarters. During the spring of 1865, in the final days of the Civil War, the North Carolina farmhouse of the John and Amy Harper family was taken over by Union soldiers on the first day of the Battle of Bentonville.
The downstairs rooms were converted into a field hospital and the Harpers were told they could either stay upstairs or leave their home altogether. At first, they chose to stay upstairs, but later they helped nurse wounded soldiers from both sides of the war.
Prior to their home being taken over by the Union Army, the war had already touched the Harper family. In September of 1862, their 16-year-old son Martin, who had joined the Confederate Army, was wounded in Maryland.
The Battle of Bentonville involved roughly 80,000 men (60,000 Union troops and 20,000 Confederate troops). When the intense three-day battle was over, more than 1,500 Union soldiers and 2,600 Confederate soldiers were dead, wounded, or missing. The makeshift hospital at the Harper House treated over 500 wounded soldiers, including 45 Confederates.
It is estimated that during the four years’ duration of the Civil War, there were 1.5 million Union soldiers and 1.2 million Confederate soldiers. And records reveal that at least 600,000 were killed in action or died of disease. The field of medicine was not very advanced at this time and modern antiseptics, which could have reduced disease and the spread of bacteria, did not exist. This resulted in more soldiers dying of disease than being killed in action.
Very often, after battles ended, soldiers were buried on the battlefield where they fought and died. If they died in field hospitals, such as the Harper House, they were buried near the hospital. At the Bentonville Civil War Battlefield in North Carolina, close to the Harper House, there is a Confederate Monument marking the mass grave of approximately 360 Confederates who died in the Battle of Bentonville.
Sometimes, the bodies of soldiers were later exhumed and moved to National or Confederate cemeteries. However, due to the sheer number of dead soldiers and the effort involved in moving their remains, undoubtedly thousands of Civil War soldiers are still buried in unknown battlefield graves.
A year after the Civil War ended, a medical doctor from Springfield, Illinois, and a small group of friends formed a plan for a fraternal organization of Union veterans for the benefit of its members and for their widows and orphans. On April 6, 1866, the first post of the Grand Army of the Republic was established in Decatur, Illinois. This organization played a major part in the establishment of the Memorial Day holiday. More importantly, they lobbied to secure pensions for Union veterans.
In the South, there were many local veterans associations, which became a part of the United Confederate Veterans association formed in New Orleans, Louisiana on June 10, 1889.
There are those who feel strongly that Confederate flags should not be flown and that monuments dedicated to Confederate soldiers should be destroyed. Others feel that all soldiers serve out of a great sense of duty to their country and they should be honored.
The inscription on the Confederate monument below sums this up beautifully: “Here, off duty till the last reveille, rest the Southern soldiers, few in number, who were slain in this and in the adjoining counties, during the war of secession. They fell among strangers, unknown, unfriended, yet not unhonored; for strangers hands have gathered their ashes here and placed this shaft above them, that constancy, valor, sacrifice of self, though displayed in fruitless enterprise, may not be unremembered.”
Wednesday, November 11, is Veterans Day. Please take a moment to honor all the veterans who have served our country, especially those who bravely fought and died.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
This year marked the 150th anniversary of the end of the Civil War, which began on April 12, 1861 when Confederate troops opened fire on Union-held Fort Sumter in South Carolina and officially ended on April 9, 1865 when Robert E. Lee surrendered to Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox Courthouse in Virginia. However, it took weeks before word of this surrender was received across the country, so the last battle took place on May 13, 1865 at Palmito Ranch in Texas.
There are many causes for the Civil War. While the Northern regions became more and more industrialized, the Southern regions remained primarily agricultural. This caused different political beliefs and social cultures to develop, leading to disagreements about taxes, tariffs, and states’ rights.
The most divisive issue, however, appears to have been the dispute over whether the national government had the power to prohibit slavery in territories that were not yet states. When Abraham Lincoln pledged to prevent slavery from being established in the territories, seven deep South states seceded, forming a new nation called the Confederate States of America.
When the war started, the combined population of the Northern states was about 22 million, while the combined population of the Southern states was about 9 million. Thus, there were roughly twice as many Union soldiers as Confederate soldiers. The average age of the Union soldiers was about 25 and the average age of the Confederate soldiers is unknown, but towards the end of the war, young boys and old men were being pressed into service.
As battles were waged across the nation, families found themselves in the middle of battlefields, often seeking safety in their cellars when the fighting closed in on their homes.
In Arkansas, during the Battle of Prairie Grove in December, 1862, the conflict developed so quickly that families living near the battlefield had no time to flee. So they took shelter in cellars like this one, which has been preserved at Prairie Grove Battlefield State Park. Although this battle ended in one day, there were about 2,700 total Union and Confederate casualties.
Other families were forced to give up their homes to serve as field hospitals or battle headquarters. During the spring of 1865, in the final days of the Civil War, the North Carolina farmhouse of the John and Amy Harper family was taken over by Union soldiers on the first day of the Battle of Bentonville.
The downstairs rooms were converted into a field hospital and the Harpers were told they could either stay upstairs or leave their home altogether. At first, they chose to stay upstairs, but later they helped nurse wounded soldiers from both sides of the war.
Prior to their home being taken over by the Union Army, the war had already touched the Harper family. In September of 1862, their 16-year-old son Martin, who had joined the Confederate Army, was wounded in Maryland.
The Battle of Bentonville involved roughly 80,000 men (60,000 Union troops and 20,000 Confederate troops). When the intense three-day battle was over, more than 1,500 Union soldiers and 2,600 Confederate soldiers were dead, wounded, or missing. The makeshift hospital at the Harper House treated over 500 wounded soldiers, including 45 Confederates.
It is estimated that during the four years’ duration of the Civil War, there were 1.5 million Union soldiers and 1.2 million Confederate soldiers. And records reveal that at least 600,000 were killed in action or died of disease. The field of medicine was not very advanced at this time and modern antiseptics, which could have reduced disease and the spread of bacteria, did not exist. This resulted in more soldiers dying of disease than being killed in action.
Very often, after battles ended, soldiers were buried on the battlefield where they fought and died. If they died in field hospitals, such as the Harper House, they were buried near the hospital. At the Bentonville Civil War Battlefield in North Carolina, close to the Harper House, there is a Confederate Monument marking the mass grave of approximately 360 Confederates who died in the Battle of Bentonville.
Sometimes, the bodies of soldiers were later exhumed and moved to National or Confederate cemeteries. However, due to the sheer number of dead soldiers and the effort involved in moving their remains, undoubtedly thousands of Civil War soldiers are still buried in unknown battlefield graves.
A year after the Civil War ended, a medical doctor from Springfield, Illinois, and a small group of friends formed a plan for a fraternal organization of Union veterans for the benefit of its members and for their widows and orphans. On April 6, 1866, the first post of the Grand Army of the Republic was established in Decatur, Illinois. This organization played a major part in the establishment of the Memorial Day holiday. More importantly, they lobbied to secure pensions for Union veterans.
In the South, there were many local veterans associations, which became a part of the United Confederate Veterans association formed in New Orleans, Louisiana on June 10, 1889.
There are those who feel strongly that Confederate flags should not be flown and that monuments dedicated to Confederate soldiers should be destroyed. Others feel that all soldiers serve out of a great sense of duty to their country and they should be honored.
The inscription on the Confederate monument below sums this up beautifully: “Here, off duty till the last reveille, rest the Southern soldiers, few in number, who were slain in this and in the adjoining counties, during the war of secession. They fell among strangers, unknown, unfriended, yet not unhonored; for strangers hands have gathered their ashes here and placed this shaft above them, that constancy, valor, sacrifice of self, though displayed in fruitless enterprise, may not be unremembered.”
Wednesday, November 11, is Veterans Day. Please take a moment to honor all the veterans who have served our country, especially those who bravely fought and died.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Friday, May 8, 2015
Sold Everywhere, 5₵
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
In our travels along the rural backroads and through the small towns of America, Ruth and I are always on the lookout for old Coca-Cola signs. Sometimes, they’re pretty easy to spot, like this unique sign on the side of an old general store in rural North Carolina.
Other times, it’s more of a struggle to see them, and also to photograph them. The abandoned Arkansas grocery store in the photo below had a large rusty Coca-Cola sign on the side of the store, which you can see if you look closely at the bottom right of the photo. Unfortunately, it was overgrown with brush on that side.
You probably know by now that I don’t usually give up easily and I work hard to try to get the photo in spite of the obstacles. In this case, I crawled through the brush and set up my tripod and camera with my remote shutter release. Then I pulled back several tree branches to reveal and photograph as much of the sign as I could.
Coca-Cola was created on May 8, 1886 in Atlanta, Georgia, by Dr. John S. Pemberton, a local pharmacist. He then carried a jug of the syrup down the street to Jacobs’ Pharmacy, where it was combined with carbonated water and served as a soda fountain drink that cost five cents per glass.
The new Coca-Cola drink was promoted as “Delicious and Refreshing” and for its ability to relieve fatigue. In 1894, Coca-Cola was promoted on the first outdoor wall advertisement, which was painted in Cartersville, Georgia.
Sales were modest that first year and averaged nine drinks per day. In 1895, Asa Candler, who had finalized the purchase of The Coca-Cola Company three years earlier, announced in his annual report to shareholders that “Coca-Cola is now drunk in every state and territory in the United States."
Meanwhile, Joseph A. Biedenharn, who owned a soda fountain in Vicksburg, Mississippi, became the first bottler of the popular drink. He began to sell cases of Coca-Cola to farms and lumber camps located along the Mississippi River.
Large scale bottling began in 1899 and, in 1916, the unique contour Coca-Cola bottle was approved by the bottlers.
In 2011, The Coca-Cola Company celebrated 125 years of the Coca-Cola brand. By 2013, Coke was available in over 200 countries, with over 1.8 million beverage servings consumed each day.
Today, May 8, is National Have a Coke Day in honor of the day that Coca-Cola was invented. If you didn’t have a coke today, have one tomorrow. It’s the Real Thing!
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
In our travels along the rural backroads and through the small towns of America, Ruth and I are always on the lookout for old Coca-Cola signs. Sometimes, they’re pretty easy to spot, like this unique sign on the side of an old general store in rural North Carolina.
Other times, it’s more of a struggle to see them, and also to photograph them. The abandoned Arkansas grocery store in the photo below had a large rusty Coca-Cola sign on the side of the store, which you can see if you look closely at the bottom right of the photo. Unfortunately, it was overgrown with brush on that side.
You probably know by now that I don’t usually give up easily and I work hard to try to get the photo in spite of the obstacles. In this case, I crawled through the brush and set up my tripod and camera with my remote shutter release. Then I pulled back several tree branches to reveal and photograph as much of the sign as I could.
Coca-Cola was created on May 8, 1886 in Atlanta, Georgia, by Dr. John S. Pemberton, a local pharmacist. He then carried a jug of the syrup down the street to Jacobs’ Pharmacy, where it was combined with carbonated water and served as a soda fountain drink that cost five cents per glass.
The new Coca-Cola drink was promoted as “Delicious and Refreshing” and for its ability to relieve fatigue. In 1894, Coca-Cola was promoted on the first outdoor wall advertisement, which was painted in Cartersville, Georgia.
Sales were modest that first year and averaged nine drinks per day. In 1895, Asa Candler, who had finalized the purchase of The Coca-Cola Company three years earlier, announced in his annual report to shareholders that “Coca-Cola is now drunk in every state and territory in the United States."
Meanwhile, Joseph A. Biedenharn, who owned a soda fountain in Vicksburg, Mississippi, became the first bottler of the popular drink. He began to sell cases of Coca-Cola to farms and lumber camps located along the Mississippi River.
Large scale bottling began in 1899 and, in 1916, the unique contour Coca-Cola bottle was approved by the bottlers.
In 2011, The Coca-Cola Company celebrated 125 years of the Coca-Cola brand. By 2013, Coke was available in over 200 countries, with over 1.8 million beverage servings consumed each day.
Today, May 8, is National Have a Coke Day in honor of the day that Coca-Cola was invented. If you didn’t have a coke today, have one tomorrow. It’s the Real Thing!
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
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