Sazerac March 2026

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Sazerac March 2026

GROCERY STORE TOURISM: UNSOLICITED ADVICE

Greensboro natives know that our grocery stores are the heart of our city. Locally grown and made to fit our authentic, cultivated palate, there’s no better place to feel like a true urbanite than amongst rows of colorful produce. As Condé Nast Traveler names grocery shop tourism a trend, we thought it’d be fitting to showcase our city’s hotspots. Whether you’re just visiting or a ‘Boro buff, take a tour of our markets, where you’ll find the cream of the crop.

The Fresh Market: It’s only natural that you’ll find your way to The Fresh Market. Founded in Greensboro, The Fresh Market brought European-style, intimate and personalized grocery shopping back and created a store meant for comfortability. We’re all for a cozy and homey grocery market and, as some would say, “Home is where the heart is — and where the freshly-baked pastries are.”

Bestway: Craft beer-and-wine tasting is what makes a grocery trip worth the while — oh, and groceries, too. China may have the Great Wall, but here, along with all your cooking needs, you’ll find the Wall o’ Beer. We won’t judge you if you beeline it for the brews before browsing apples and oranges — it’s called balance.

Indu Cafe: If you’re a fan of samosas, Indu Cafe is the perfect place to visit. If you’re unseasoned to the crispy vegetable and spice filled snacks, don’t knock ’em until you try ’em. This shop full of authentic Indian seasoning, flavors and ingredients satiates the city’s craving for crispy, cultural cuisine. You just may give up window shopping and find yourself caught —  mid-bite — in a crunch.

Deep Roots Market: Deep Roots Market makes it their mission to feed the needs of Greensboro and to do that you have to know Greensboro. Dating back to 1976, it began as, and still is today, a nutrition and health-conscious co-op that has fed the community by listening to it. So, you could say Deep Roots Market is rooted deep in Greensboro.

Indie Scene

“When I was coming along, record stores were a place of community. Everyone hung out there,” Mike Moore, owner of Buffalo Boogie Records, recalls. “That’s what I wanted to bring here in Greensboro, that community feeling.”

If you’re a bit out of tune with the times, 2026 is “the year of analog.” Despite the rise of digital dominance, individuals are no longer depending on online streaming for music, instead swapping digital for tangible media. Thanks to a vinyl renaissance, a nearly lost space that fosters connection between music mavens alike has reemerged — record stores. In 2018, Moore opened Buffalo Boogie Records, aiming to share his love of records with anyone who had an ear for music. He hoped to create an environment that stirred conversation and eventually invited friendship. “Music is a way of life for a lot of people. It certainly has been for me since I was a child,” he says. “It’s a celebration of life.”

“I had no intention of opening up a record store back in the ’80s and so forth — I just loved records,” says Moore. Throughout the decline of record purchasing and the rise of CDs in the mid-1980s, Moore garnered discounted or discarded albums and, over the years, acquired a buzz-worthy collection. “So at times I feel sort of like an archivist as well. I’m preserving something that’ll be passed on from generations to generations and on and on,” he says.

From seeing The Monkees in concert to making friends at his local record store, Moore, who primarily grew up in High Point, has always revolved around the music scene and is eager to see the younger generation becoming more and more interested in vinyl. “It seemed like 12–15 years ago, people started looking more towards vinyl as opposed to digital media. It looks like it’s going back to analog. Vinyl started getting popular again,” he says. Exhausted by the hustle and bustle that comes with browsing the internet, individuals are removing themselves from digital overload, embracing a sense of personal connection. “It kind of blows my mind that the younger generations are much enjoying the music mediums that I did when I was a child in the 1960s and as a teenager,” muses Moore.

Though much of the younger generation up-and-comers grew up with digital media platforms and will most likely continue to use it, it is encouraging to see an increase in the demand for physical media. Moore assures us that “the year of analog” will topple the digital media dominance and bring back the classics: “2026 is going to be more of a confirmation that vinyl is back.”
        — Joi Floyd

JOI DE VIVRE

A peek into a superhero’s dream: A new suit, helmet of gold and shield of armor can only save so much, little hero — even superheroes have to dream eventually. The world will wait for you. Life will not, so live it to the fullest. Dance in the crowded streets full of dreamers and non-believers. Swing your partner ’round and ’round and swoop into a kiss. Take a long, deep breath of your sweet, beautiful life made up of a jumble of moments. Those tiny, little moments are special and unique but can only follow time. And yes, time is a thief, but keep him by your side because even thieves can be good guys. For better or worse, that big, bad world will have to save itself for now, little hero. There’s so much to do, but it can wait another day —  another time. So, hang that suit up and save yourself instead because even superheroes have to dream eventually.

    – Joi Floyd

Louise B. Alexander, Historical Print Photograph Collection, UA 0104, Martha Blakeney Hodges Special Collections and University Archives, University Libraries, The University of North Carolina at Greensboro.

Window on the Past

An all-male judicial system was a sign of the times in the late 1800s, and, since Women’s History Month is upon us, we thought we’d share a little about local women’s activist and change maker Louise Brevard Alexander. In 1920, Alexander became Guilford County’s first female lawyer. After serving as a juvenile detention judge until 1935, she taught political science at Woman’s College (now UNCG) and was the first to receive the O. Max Gardner Award, considered the UNC System’s highest faculty honor. Alexander pushed the boundaries of women’s rights and the rest was, well, history.

Sazerac February 2026

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February 2026

Window on the Past

Guilford County has many ties to historical figures, but one of the most significant is the upbringing of former First Lady Dolley Madison. She was renowned for her social grace and writing, which is evident in this poem written to her friend, Madeleine Dahlgren, on Valentine’s Day, 1849.

For Miss Dahlgren

Deliberate on all things, with thy friend,

But since friends grow not thick on every bough,

First, on thy friend deliberate with thyself,

Then, ponder self, not eager in the choice,

Nor jealous of the chosen fixing, fix

Judge before friendship, then confide till death.

Sage Gardener

An earwig can be as irritating as it is haunting, especially at 3 a.m., when you can’t quite remember the correct lyrics to the song: “She once was a true love of mine” swirl around with “parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,” which triggers a mental inventory of the state of my herb garden. Rosemary? Check, big bush of it near the goldfish pond. Thyme? Got it in spades. Parsley? It’s struggling but will rebound. Sage? I’ll need to order seeds or find some plants.

Now can I go back to sleep?

Not until I get up and listen to “Scarborough Fair” — and learn (just in time for Valentine’s Day) that the four herbs combined constitute a love potion, parsley for comfort, sage for strength, rosemary for love and thyme for courage. And also that Paul Simon once sang the song on The Muppet Show in duet with Miss Piggy, both dressed as Renaissance minstrels.

That’s the sort of thing you discover when, in the middle of the night, you go down the gopher-tortoise hole (because gopher tortoise burrows contain the likes of coral snakes, beetles, skunks, gopher frogs and other critters you’d never find going down a rabbit hole).

Parsley, Petroselinum (from the Greek “rock celery”) crispum: While Greeks fed parsley to their race horses, the Romans spread parsley throughout their empire, convinced it warded off infection and masked the smell of garlic. (Do not try this at home.) In medieval times, it was thought to provoke lust and love. So, who wouldn’t want this excellent companion plant in their garden, warding off asparagus beetles and attracting bees and hoverflies, which everybody knows feast on aphids and thrips? Any chef realizes that it brightens even the most complex dish when sprinkled just before serving and anything grilled benefits from the addition of parsley, butter and lemon.

Sage, Salvia (from the Latin “salvere,” meaning “to be saved”) officinalis: Sage is native to the Mediterranean region, but naturalized throughout the world, including here in North America, where some Indian tribes consider it a sacred herb. In fact, many have adopted the Native American tradition of burning sage for spiritual purification. It thrives in well-drained, slightly acidic soil and needs lots of sun to create maximum flavor. Avoid overwatering or too much fertilizer. Its earthy flavor blends with almost anything and is such an essential Southern spice in pork that the Neese’s sausage people offer an “extra sage” variety. Green cheese? English Derby with sage added.

Rosemary, Rosmarinus (Latin for dew of the sea) officinalis: Just so you know, Napoleon’s eau de cologne was based on rosemary. Greeks thought that wearing a garland of it improved memory and there’s some current scientific evidence supporting that. In medieval times, rosemary was used in both funeral and weddings as a symbol of happiness, loyalty and love, but was also thought to attract elves. Rosemary does not grow well in containers, needing light, well-drained soil. Harvest rosemary just before it flowers for maximum flavor.

Thyme, Thymus vulgaris (although there are hundreds of varieties): Among other mythical and historical applications,  thyme was burned to rid homes and temples of insects and snakes; carried by Roman soldiers into battle for courage and strength; used in charms to enable one to see fairies; and seen as an antidote to snake and spider bites. Thyme is hardy, loves sunlight and can spread like a miniature form of kudzu once established. Besides being an excellent food preservative, thyme oil is antioxidant, antifungal and antibacterial.

The song itself? The melody is centuries old and was collected from a retired lead miner by Ewan MacColl, a British folklorist, singer and songwriter. Simon & Garfunkel, in turn, collected and recorded the melody. The lyrics about unrequited love became famous after its inclusion in a movie about the very same thing: The Graduate. Except for the presumed availability of the four herbs in medieval Scarborough in Yorkshire, England, the lyrics contain a lot more advice for the lovelorn than for gardeners, true of most rock’n’roll. But my lady did indeed find me an acre of land, and that’s true love.
                                  — David Claude Bailey

Unsolicited Advice

As soon as the last of the leftover Super Bowl chicken wings are finished, we’ll finally be done with football season and we can then focus on what’s more important: crafting! Galentine’s Day is right around the corner and — we don’t know about you, but after all the touchdown talk — we’re in desperate need of a girls’ night. So while the boys sulk about their team not making it to the playoffs — yet, again — we cooked up some fun activities for you to do with your gal pals.

When was the last time you put your creative skills to the test? Watercolor paint, a couple of canvases and a bottle of wine is all that is needed to uncork a proper sip-and-paint night for the gals. And as the cups fill and the paint strokes the canvas, your abstract art will look a lot like Picasso’s, especially through wine goggles. 

Even with the simplest of instructions, baking can be difficult. But as bad at baking as we are, two is often better than one in the kitchen, especially if your friend is a little more skillful with a whisk. As long as you fake it until you bake it, the toughest of recipes can become smooth as batter and you can show that pound cake who’s boss. So grab a friend and make that pie recipe — it’s as easy as, well, pie.

There’s something so freeing about making a mess, especially when it allows for a perfect display of memories. Scrapbooking lets you fly your freak flag without any judgement. It’s all for you, the girls and no one else. We are a patchwork of pieces, so our scrapbooks should be too. Now, pull out the scissors, paper and your hot glue gun and make a mess — a hot mess.

Just One Thing

Renowned artist Joyce J. Scott, nicknamed the “Queen of Beads,” has stitched a path of her own through the quilting world, which obviously includes beadwork. But mothers are often the first to guide us through our crafting journeys, and, with the quilt Monsters, Dragons and Flies, it’s no different. Joyce and her mother, Elizabeth T. Scott, pieced together retrospective work that expands upon the traditional ideas of quiltmaking. With its appliquéd patterns and series of hand-embroidered images, the quilt the mother-daughter duo collaborated on found its way across the country. Catch this piece and many more by other African American quilters at the Weatherspoon Art Museum’s Of Salt and Spirit: Black Quilters in the American South exhibit, on view from Feb. 7–Aug. 1 — an exhibit fit for a queen.

Sazerac January 2026

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Sage Gardener

Each year my wife, Anne, and I combine New Year’s resolutions with the annual barrage of seed catalogs to make our garden plans for the season. This January, we’re resolved to finally grow romanesco, a cultivar of cauliflower that is brilliantly chartreuse and looks like the intergalactic sister of cauliflower and broccoli on LSD. Next on our list is mâche, aka cornsalad or lamb’s lettuce, which crowds the produce section of Spain and France, but is relatively unknown here. Very mild with a slightly nutty note, it was regarded as a weed for years in Europe, so we figure it ought to thrive like all the other weeds that crowd our vegetable beds. Something we have not seen in Spain, despite recent trips to visit our newly sprouted granddaughter, is the black Spanish radish. Reputed to have “an earthy, spicy, bitter and pungent flavor,” and, yes, black on the outside, why wouldn’t we plant them? And we’ve always wanted to try the candy-cane striped Chioggia beets, so this is the year, we’ve decided we’re going to. After all, beets thrive in our soil. Salsify, radicchio and cucamelons are on our list, the latter described by epicgardening.com’s “27 Unusual and Rare Vegetables to Grow This Season” as “adorable grape-sized fruits that look like baby watermelons and taste like tart cucumbers.” Aaaaaw. Who doesn’t like a cute vegetable?

In the way of past successes with out-of-the-ordinary veggies, Anne and I recommend planting goober peas — can you say boiled peanuts? Sea Island field peas were both a culinary and gardening success and, like peanuts, they’re great at crowding out weeds as a ground cover. Another import from Spain is the Canary melon. Oval and yellow, it has a creamy texture, with a sweet, slightly musky taste. We’ve also had great success with purple green beans, which garnered comments from our neighbors, such as “Well, I never.”

In the “Don’t Plant” category, we would list heritage okra, the seeds of which we got from Old Salem, but which had the texture of a canine chew toy. Not even our dog would eat it. Malabar spinach goes gangbusters, is hearty and resists pests, but maybe that’s because of its taste, which reminded me of various inedible plants I tried as a kid. Jerusalem artichokes are fun, but be careful. Yes, you can eat them like potatoes, but they are definitely a moveable feast; and, if you let them, they’ll take over your entire garden. I should add to our long list of flops — celeriac, which we tried again and again, but never got beyond seedlings. Parsnips, kohlrabi and rutabagas have all fizzled for us, but maybe that’s the weather, our soil or the Sage Gardener’s lack of sagacity. We’ve always wanted to grow rhubarb, but decided not to after a yankee in our community garden repeatedly tried with limited success.

On my personal gardener’s bucket list? Dragon fruit. Also corn smut, which only visited my corn once, but I didn’t get around to cooking it before it grew so smutty it looked X-rated. I’ve also dreamed of growing the vaunted corpse flower. And while we’re on the subject of mutability, how about a century plant, which is monocarpic, meaning it only flowers at the very end of its long life, which is more like 10–30 years rather than 100. Granted, at 78, what are the odds of my seeing it bloom? But nothing ventured, nothing grown. — David Claude Bailey

Window on the Past

Born and raised in Greensboro, Olympic speed skating champion Joey Cheek is seen here celebrating his 2006 Winter Olympic gold medal win at a luncheon held that March at the Greensboro Coliseum. Cheek, who had trained for this moment since he was a child and had won three bronze medals prior, skated his way into history and, this year, marks the 20th anniversary of his victory.

Just One Thing

“So, I got out there that first day and took a bunch of pictures and was going like, ‘Whoa, there it is. I can see it.’” David Brown, a photographer native to Greensboro, talks about his experience with switching from film photography to digital photography, which produced this landscape photograph he titled The Red Barn. “I packed up all my 4×5 cameras, my film cameras and my Nikon digital and headed out,” he said. Brown, an avid fan of scenic landscapes, thought it’d be a great idea to start shooting them, which gave him the idea to haul his gear to the northernmost portion of the U.S. “I went up to Minnesota, then across the Northern Plains and then down to the Rockies and down to the Southwest, Arizona and all the rest of it.” Now, if you ask Brown where in the eastern slope of the Rockies he was when he captured this scene, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. But, what he could tell you is that switching to digital cameras changed the way he viewed photography forever. Getting to experience the Northern High Plains was just the icing on top. This photo and more of Brown’s work will be premiered at the Revolution Mill’s Central Gallery, Jan. 2–March 27, with a reception from 5–7 p.m., Saturday, Jan. 17. “That’s the whole genesis of the Central Gallery thing, I was cranking these things out. It was saving my sanity at a time of social turmoil and gave me something to focus on, no pun intended.”  — Joi Floyd

Unsolicited Advice

While you create your New Year’s resolutions and start to consider which habits should stay and which should go, don’t forget to add hot tea instead of coffee to the list. Overrated and overconsumed, coffee is out and a fresh cuppa is in. This year, we’re rewinding the times and replacing coffee breath with health benefits, such as lower blood pressure and easier digestion. There’s nothing like waking up early in the morning, slowly sipping your steaming Earl Grey before crying kids, unpacked lunch boxes and the school bus that you’ve almost missed four times this year jolt you awake. But this new habit? You’ve got it in the bag — and here are just a few of its benefits.

Oolong (Wūlóng) Tea: Aside from the fact that the name is fun to say — and not to be confused with Wu-Tang — this tea flaunts strong antioxidant properties. You’re sure to beat any cold that comes fighting your way, hence the Wu-Tang confusion.

Green Tea: Whether you prefer it brewed hot or ice cold, green tea is a great swap for that, er, steep matcha. With lower calories and caffeine concentration, it’ll leave those matcha mavens green with envy. 

Herbal Tea: If you’re tired of having that heavy, bloated feeling every time you eat breakfast, this may be the tea for you as it aids digestion. It also comes in more flavor varieties than December’s candy canes, including peppermint. But, sorry, not including Skittles.

Masala Chai Tea: With a black tea base, masala chai tea improves heart health while serving up warmer, spicier vibes than a gingerbread latte. You know what they say — a cup of masala chai tea a day, keeps the coffee breath away!

A Perfect Obituary

Several years ago, following the tragic death of Thomas Merton, I experienced what seemed to me to be a perfect obituary. I was reading Armindo Trevisan’s poem, Elegy for Thomas Merton, and one line brought me to a great pause: “He found you at supper, the bread already broken and your bones aflame with wine.”

Merton was a monk and mystic, well known through his books, other writings and stories from his life at a Trappist monastery, Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani, in Kentucky. Trevisan, a Brazilian theologian and poet, must have read deeply Merton’s writings.

It is Trevisan’s profound affirmation of Merton’s eucharistic life that continues to grip me. I wonder if Merton experienced an epiphanic moment in his life like I did as a 16-year-old attending a Maundy Thursday service at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Richmond, Virginia. I suspect that is when my yearning for eucharist in my spiritual journey took root. For several years now, weekly Wednesday evenings receiving the consecrated elements of bread and wine in All Saints Chapel at Holy Trinity Episcopal Church’s Stillpoint service has nourished that eucharistic hunger. I do not want to be anyplace else.

Those 15 words, beginning with “He found you at supper,” that brought me to a gasp propelled me to my dear friend, Sally Gant, who often used her talent as a calligrapher to take words that set my heart soaring and craft them into an even greater thing of beauty. I have a file full of them! One day when I join Merton and Trevisan in that great cloud of witnesses who watch us run our race, we will share the joy that Sally’s artwork brought us.

    — David C. Partington

Sazerac December 2025

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December 2025

Making a Mark

After graduating from Savannah College of Art and Design May 31, 2015, Blythe Leonard turned down an offer to work with Ralph Lauren, despite her background in fashion. Instead, she made a beeline back home to Thomasville.

By June, she had created her own brand of handcrafted leather goods and opened shop April 1, 2016. “I placed an order for my sewing machine before I even graduated.” 

The other part of her plan was to support other “makers.”

“I wanted to uplift locals. I have a service heart; I’m always hoping to help people up.” Blythe smiles. “It is Hallmark-y.”

Today, Blythe Leonard Leather at 606 Davidson St. features her hand-crafted goods. Miranda Kerr and the late Diane Keaton are among celebrities who have owned her handbags.

Her second location, 12 East Guilford St., was once headquarters for Lambeth Furniture Company, precursor to giant Thomasville Furniture.

She bought the 1898 building on October 1, 2020. 

With support from entrepreneurial parents Jane and Mark Leonard, third-generation owners of Hill Spinning Mill in Thomasville,

and a slew of paid and volunteer labor, a spiffy remodel resulted in the perfect showcase for one-of-a-kind items. Leonard transformed the down-on-its-luck building during the pandemic, stocking two stories with the work of 100 artists.

Maker’s Market opened on May 29, 2021.

Now, nearly 350 “makers” produce wares sold in artful displays: handmade jewelry, pottery, gardening tools, specialty food items and artwork — all using American materials. “If they make candles, even the glass they pour the candles into has to be made in the U.S.,” says Blythe.  Her woodworker brother, Nick, creates cutting boards and 16 other woodworkers sell everything from spoons to ornaments. 

Blythe considers the quality, pricing and work of friendly makers. “I won’t work for or with anybody that’s rude,” she insists.

Come the holidays, Blythe casts a wider net for those who cannot make the trek to historic Thomasville. 

“We are always looking for avenues to bring customers to our makers so that they are successful. So, we reached out to Piedmont Crossing [a Thomasville retirement community] to see if we could set up a tour bus to come visit the store.” 

On-site pop-up shops have grown popular.

Maker’s Market recently co-hosted a pop-up at Pennybyrn, extending invitations to other retirement communities.   

Blythe says the residents appreciated the opportunity to shop where they live since many use walkers, canes or wheelchairs.

Meanwhile, Blythe’s writing about how she got here. Her working title, “A Whole Lot of Faith and a Whole Lot of Crazy,” looks back on the exciting past decade. 

“I tell people I must be crazy to have opened a second business during COVID.” — Cynthia Adams

Unsolicited Advice

In 2021, PBS declared, “The misunderstood fruitcake has a magnificent shelf life — and history.” In fact, it dates back to ancient times. Perhaps the one your neighbor brought you last Christmas was, in fact, a relic of the past. Antiquated or not, we’ve got some alternative uses for that unwanted fruitcake your family is likely to forgo in favor of snowman-shaped sugar cookies.

Small and dense, it’s practically a brick, making it a perfectly weighty doorstop — though we don’t endorse building your home from fruitcake. Great for holding the door while you hustle through with present-laden arms, we recommend changing it out before spring and the onset of ants, though we cannot confirm that they’ll even eat it.

Sliced, you can take out some of that holiday angst on the ice with a family-friendly game of fruitcake hockey. 

Need a moment of om? Maybe a little hip release? Stretch yourself into the pigeon, a yoga pose that opens up those flexors and glutes, and rest your forehead on the next best thing to a yoga block — Aunt Helen’s fruitcake.

When all else fails, listen to the advice of your old buddy, Sam-I-Am. Don’t be a fruitcake Grinch. Try it! Try it! And you may . . . actually like it. Especially after a festive meal of Green Eggs and Ham.

Just One Thing

Every year, Greensboro’s GreenHill Center for NC Art gathers the works of over 70 artists state-wide in one glorious, two-month-long exhibit. Winter Show, now in its 46th season, has become a Gate City staple for both art connoisseurs and those who believe in supporting local artists. No matter where you land, you’ll find something unique that grabs your attention — perhaps one of Asheville creator Heather Divoky’s crowns. Divoky, who describes herself as “an artist, designer, and sometimes-poet,” utilizes marker and ink on paper, copper wire, and beads to fabricate these one-of-a-kind fashion statements. Divoky draws “in all sorts of fantastical, deeply detailed ways” to create vibrant, fanciful crowns, allowing you to wear her wildest whimsies — everything from moths and possums to celestial bodies and flora. Pictured here is Pride I, a royal rainbow of blooms. While we’re told this specific crown won’t be at Winter Show, we do know that ones similar will be on display in all their crowning glory. Want a head start? Don’t miss Winter Show’s First Choice event from 5:30–7:30 p.m., Thursday, Dec. 4, or Collector’s Choice from 7–10 p.m., Saturday, Dec. 6. The Public Opening follows from 1–3 p.m., Sunday, Dec. 7. Info: greenhillnc.org/winter-show-2025

Carol W. Martin collection at the History Museum

Window on the Past

Many of the traditions we have in Greensboro have stayed the same, including holiday storytelling. Pictured is Elizabeth Holder, a volunteer at the Greensboro History Museum during the 1990s, using miniature figurines to relay the Moravian settlers’ history to Global Studies Magnet School students. Some things never change — like the snap of the perfect Moravian cookie.

Sazerac November 2025

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November 2025

Just One Thing

There’s nothing like a history museum celebrating, well, its own long history. On November 11, the Greensboro History Museum unveils an exhibit honoring its centennial: GHM100: Treasures. Legacies. Remix. Featured, you’ll find rarely seen museum goodies, including what Curator of Collections Ayla Amon says is her personal favorite in the collection, a Tunisian kaftan that was given to Dolley Madison in 1805 by Sidi Soliman Mellimelli. It is said that Mellimelli wrapped the Tunisian garment — made of red velvet, lined with green silk damask and decorated with gilt silver thread — around Dolley as a gift intended to bring childbearing fortune to her and husband James Madison, who was then serving as U.S. Secretary of State. Fabricated from heavy, luxury materials, it’s not just a cloak, but a work of art that Amon says is a must-see in person. Notably, Mellimelli was the first Muslim envoy to come to the United States. He came, hoping to avert a war between Tunis and the U.S., who had violated a treaty by capturing Tunisian vessels. At the conclusion of his visit, he sent a letter to James Madison. The letter concludes, “With heartfelt regret I shall leave this Country while our affairs wear so inauspicious a complexion . . .” Behold the kaftan along with 100 years of archival treasures at the Greensboro History Museum. Info: greensborohistory.org/exhibition/ghm100-treasures-legacies-remix

Window on the Past

At a 1950s Cone Mills Cooking School demo, we aren’t sure what’s being said, but we imagine it’s along the lines of what came out of Lessons in Chemistry’s Elizabeth Zott: “Children, set the table. Your mother needs a moment.” As Thanksgiving chaos rolls around, we gently remind you to take a moment for yourself, too.

Sage Gardener

Why wait until New Years Day to serve collard greens? If, after reading this, collards don’t make an appearance at your Thanksgiving or Christmas feast, you’re not paying attention.

Collard greens are bristling with vitamins A, C, K and B-6, plus iron, magnesium, folate, potassium — and lots of silica in the form of sand — that is, if you don’t rinse them twice. My rule of green thumb: Rinse thrice just to be nice.

Speaking of the rinse cycle, let’s talk about cleaning your colon with fiber, which reduces inflammation and balances blood sugar. The Cool Kids comedian David Alan Grier observes that collards “get outta you faster than they get in you.”

Before they began making their appearance served upon crisp linen table cloths in tiny boîtes, collards were seen as poor folks’ food, with recipes for cooking them imported by enslaved people along with, unwillingly, themselves. They thrive in nutrient-poor soil and adverse conditions, making them ideal for hard times.

Lutein. Zeaxanthin. Don’t worry about pronouncing them. You’ll soon see that these sulfur-rich compounds (along with our old friend vitamin K) guard against age-related eye diseases. 

And go ahead and savor that second glass of wine. The sulfur-rich compounds in collards clean out your liver.

Kamala Harris confessed that her collard green recipe is so popular she uses her bathtub to wash her big mess of collards around the holidays.

If you have a slab of fatback and fry it up, and also have some leftover cornbread from your Thanksgiving Day feast, you have all the makings for a collard-green sammie as featured in Bon Appétit. May we recommend the addition of some Texas Pete.

If people are worried about eating the official state vegetable of South Carolina (where more collards are grown than anywhere else), just tell them they’re eating Brassica oleracea.  

Grey Poupon

One day, when I was 7, the jar of Grey Poupon appeared in our refrigerator, heavy and rare as an apple in our steak-and-potatoes house.

After Dad’s shift at the print shop, I asked him about this new jar of mustard. He turned to me, setting down his Busch Light, shook his head, and said, “Your mother is trying to be all fancy.”

“Have you tried it?” I asked.
“It’s just mustard,” he said.

The next morning, I peeked around the corner as my father made his daily ham and cheese. After dipping the butter knife into the Grey Poupon, he brought it to his tongue, nodded as if satisfied, then slathered a generous helping on his sandwich.

When I stepped into the kitchen, he jumped, as if I’d caught him in some dirty act.

Unsolicited Advice

November is about giving more than just thanks for your many blessings — it’s about giving back. These days, donating money to a near-and-dear cause is just a simple QR code away, but it’s not always that easy when your budget is tighter than your post-pecan-pie pants (never mind that thin slice of pumpkin pie you also ate — it barely counts). True, November might be hard on your waistline, but we’re gonna make it easier on your bottom line with things you can give other than Benjamins.

Stuff. Local organizations are often in need of gently used clothing, toys, furnishings and decor. Closet more stuffed than your vegan cousin Nina’s tofurkey? Clean it out while doing some good in the world. Somewhere, Marie Kondo is sitting at her Thanksgiving table, full of gratitude for the millions of us who are sparking some joy in the world — and her wallet.

Skills. Got a special talent that could be of service? Maybe you’re a website designer who can level up your fav nonprofit’s site. Service with a smile — and style. As MLK Jr. once said, “Life’s persistent and most urgent question is, ‘What are you doing for others?’” Don’t be caught without an answer.

Energy. Instead of giving 5K, register to run a 5K for a cause. Maybe this is the year your family turns into the one we all love to hate. You know ‘em — they show up to the Turkey Trot in matching costumes that should make it hard to jog, but they still finish in the lead, having barely broken a sweat.

Time. Carve out a little of your most precious commodity to spend it volunteering in a soup kitchen or playing with shelter pups. Bonus if you bring home Fido and give him a home for the holidays and fur-ever after. And since we’re talking about time here, maybe he could even be your loyal watch-dog.  

Up. After that last joke, this is what we’re giving.

Merry Makers

“I feel like my art is love made visible,” muses Katie Podracky, a teacher and first-time vendor at Merry Merry Market this year. “I love that people who know nothing of that story can come to it and also feel some type of hidden connection.” Katie takes inspiration from North Carolina, the state in which she was born and raised. The vibrant scenery and lively nature — who doesn’t love a galloping white-tailed deer or the sound of a rushing waterfall from time to time? — influence her canvas. After a little mountain climbing and several animal encounters from her local state parks, Katie and her husband became avid outdoor lovers. “I had a friend tell me, ‘Oh you should paint something’ and I was like, ‘Oh that’s a good idea, let’s do that’ and it really connected me to North Carolina.” Katie says she learned a lot about her home state through her art.

Katie has long loved Merry Merry Market and is excited to be on the other side of the vendor table this time around. “I tell all of my friends and my students that Merry Merry Market is such a great event because they collect quality vendors who happen to be local artists.” Katie’s paintings, plus accessories, home decor and other artisan wares, are among the many items you could buy as a gift for a family member, friend or even for yourself. We always enjoy the saying, “one for you, three for me.” And, as if that wasn’t enough to draw your attention, a portion of the $5 admission will be donated to BackPack Beginnings, a nonprofit that connects children and their families with the resources they need to develop and grow. So, mark your calendars to get some much needed holiday shopping done at Merry Merry Market, 9 a.m.–8 p.m., Wednesday, Nov. 19, at Revolution Mill’s Colonnade Events Center. Did we mention the bar opens at 5 p.m.? Info: merrymerrymarketgso.com.

Sazerac October 2025

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Sage Gardener

I thought I knew what chow chow was, a traditional Southern relish that my daddy put on pinto beans and my mother whipped up using up the tail end of the garden — cabbage, onions, green tomatoes and peppers, accented with mustard seeds. When I run out of the version I make myself, similar to Mama’s, I buy what I consider a really decent alternative, Mrs. Campbell’s Chow Chow, made mostly from cabbage, red bell peppers and onions, and produced by Winston-Salem’s Golding Farms. (Tony Golding got started in 1972, making and distributing Mr. and Mrs. John Campbell’s homemade version.)

Then I started poking around. Southern? Hardly. Food historian John Mariani informed me that the name of chow chow may come from Mandarin Chinese “cha” and originated in America in 1785, when Chinese laborers working on railroads in the West introduced it, amped up with ginger and orange peel. North Carolina-born “Southern Fork” blogger Stephanie Burt muses that the French Acadians from Canada might have brought chow chow to the United States, since their word for cabbage was “chau.” But her personal theory is that “the Carolina version I know originated with the Pennsylvania German and Dutch settlers, who traveled the wagon road to the South bringing their love of relishes and mustard with them.”

My Pennsylvania Dutch mother might have consulted her Mennonite Community Cookbook, but she sure didn’t put any lima beans, green beans or cucumbers in hers. She used the version, as I do, from the Rockingham County Home Demonstration Cookbook, featuring, like Mrs. Campbell’s, cabbage, onions and peppers, but also green tomatoes. Head north and chow chow gets even greener, made predominantly with green tomatoes, especially in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick.

If you want to make some from the remnants of your garden veggies, type into Google what you have too much of and you’ll find oodles of recipes.

But what really grabbed my attention was what some people do with it. Sure, I heap it on hamburgers, hot dogs and collard greens. And it’s the secret ingredient in my devilishly delicious deviled eggs. But, really, fish cakes and mashed potatoes? Heaped on biscuits and gravy or on corn bread? Don’t even mention ice cream — unless it’s chocolate.

Unsolicited Advice

You know the house that the kids clamor to every Halloween? It’s the one with the flashing lights, “Monster Mash” blaring and a fire pit out front surrounded by witches and werewolves sipping their brews. Green with envy? Don’t be — we’ve got tips to make your front door the top stop on the block.

Don’t dole out off-brand candy imposters. No one wants your Crisp-Cat, Wacky Taffy or Chuckles bar. Even toddlers know they’re a cheap imitation of the real thing and taste like chocolate-covered disappointment.

The biggest fright of the night? Nothing screams “I’m a dentist” like handing out toothbrushes at the door. If you’re going to do it, at least toss in some sugar-free candy, too. Plus, from a business standpoint, more cavities means more income.

Ambience? More like zombie-ence. Think eerie mood music, orange and purple lights and — the icing on the individually packaged Tastykake, which also makes a great treat — a frightful ’fit for yourself. And we all know nothing is scarier than a homemade Halloween costume.

Window on the Past

Captured on the heels of the Great Depression, these two goblins are prepared for the coldest of winters and the largest of pumpkin pies. Better stock up on the whipped cream!

Just One Thing

While one red balloon floating up from a drain says “Stephen King-level creepy,” soon, several red balloons in front of an art studio will scream creativity. Since 1996, ArtStock Studio Tour has offered art collectors and lovers the opportunity to tour several local studios — marked by red balloon bouquets — where they can peruse and perhaps purchase a piece for their own homes. This year, ArtStock is stretching that canvas all the way into High Point. Witness here the work of Greensboro resident and mixed-media artist Linda Spitsen, who is participating for her third year. For the first time, she plans to open the doors to her in-home studio. Spitsen says she traces her creativity all the way back to kindergarten. “For forever, people have always received a handmade card from me for their birthdays,” she says. But that creativity was reignited on a larger scale in 2016 when she retired from a longtime career as vice president of HR at a tech company. Now, Spitsen has collectors all over the globe — “in all the continents but Antartica,” she quips. Her brush, she finds, generally yields works that are floral or earthy in nature, as seen here in Thursday’s Child, a bold acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas. Asked who, exactly, Thursday’s Child is, Spitsen simply says, “I was born on a Thursday.” As was her husband, Stu Nichols, she notes. The painting, as it turns out, was completed on the eve of her birthday earlier this year. Just follow the red ArtStock balloons to see Spitsen’s work as well as that of 30+ local artists, Oct. 2–5. Info: artstocktour.com

All Bark

Poplar Hall, a Neoclassical Revival home in Irving Park, now features what may be the first tree that’s been remodeled of its kind — notable in a neighborhood where grand old mansions routinely receive every imaginable home improvement.

You read that correctly. If tree superlatives were handed out, this tree would win “Most Improved,” hands down! 

The much-loved poplar stands on the lawn of the historic 1914 family home of politician and lawyer Aubrey Brooks. Poplar Hall was among the first houses built in Irving Park. In recent years, arborists and experts could be seen administering TLC to a particular tree, across from the entrance to the Greensboro Country Club. 

Why care so for this tree? It had star power, an earthly wonder to all who passed by.

The same feature that made the tree charmingly irresistible, sparking the imagination, also indicated its vulnerability. Its heartwood having died, its center was enchantingly hollowed out so much so, a child could disappear into its interior.

Generations of fans have visited the tree, standing conveniently by a public sidewalk. Passersby, runners, walkers and parents with strollers have invariably slowed for a better look. Like the Angel Oak in Charleston, South Carolina, it had quietly become a natural attraction, one the children in my family always requested to visit. 

Years ago, a fire was set inside the hollow. Though it bore the signs on the charred interior, the tree seemed to defy death.

But, despite the care of intergenerational owners who gave it their best efforts, the tree steadily declined.

Advancing decay and time further ravaged the tree. And who could even guess its age? Hardwoods such as this often live over 250 years, according to treehuggers.com.   

The ailing tree recently underwent a series of incredible transformations. First, a breathtaking amputation. The dying top was lopped off, leaving it truncated and sad-looking. Fans and neighbors worried. What next?

The tree trunk — the main attraction — remained with at least 20 feet of its magnificence intact. The natural “doorway” was saved, its ancient portal still open.

Since then, a cedar shake roof was constructed, reinforcing the tree’s appeal and storybook charm. More embellishments followed: gingerbread trim and two charming windows. Delighted children dubbed it the “Keebler Elf tree” after the well-known cookie commercials, where elves whip up Fudge Stripes in such a tree.

As a final, playful touch, garden gnomes — perhaps Keebler kin — appeared inside the hollow, establishing residency, proving the remodel was a habitable success.

It was a remarkable save for a tree with legions of fans.

But not everyone unreservedly loves the elf tree at Poplar Hall. Occasionally, the darkness of the walk-in tree spooks little ones, fearful of encountering unseen guests.

When my niece, Bailey Sparks, visited the tree, we urged her to step inside for the full experience. Just as she entered the shadowy hollow, she screamed out in pain and fright. A bee had stung her.

Later, she shakily recorded the event on a blackboard in my home, which bears chalk-scrawled messages from visiting children. “I will never forget this day! The first day I got a bee sting! July 15, 2007,” she wrote. The child had no more to say on the subject, wishing to never return.

But the majority of those paying homage to the tree get a pleasurable shot of dopamine rather than bee venom. Most of us are tree lovers, like generations of the Brooks family seem to be.

According to historic records, the name itself is proof. Poplar Hall is the namesake “of a stately tulip poplar” that stood on the front lawn of the property more than a century ago.

Sazerac September 2025

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September 2025

Sage Gardener

With the end of summer comes the inevitable garden turnover, and the Sage Gardener is thinking about what he can grow without even stepping foot outdoors. You can get a kit delivered right to your front door, from $20 for a 10-piece ensemble found on Amazon all the way to an $899, smart technology, hydroponic, LED-lit, automatically-watered unit (remote camera extra) from Gardyn.com. But a quick survey of my friends suggests you don’t have to break the bank to bring the outdoors in. “I buy basil and parsley at the local Harris Teeter and torture them until they wither,” says an artist friend. “I’ve begun to notice that when I go by the baby plants in the produce aisle, they’ve started recoiling at me.”

Another friend fills her kitchen with herbs from Trader Joe’s, popping the ones that don’t thrive from the pot into the frying pan. Her partner has labeled the sunny little corner of their kitchen, “The Rainforest.” She’s found that mint in particular thrives like kudzu until Derby Day, when it tends to disappear.

Another friend restricts his indoor gardening to chives, which he snips and puts on salads and baked potatoes. My wife and I have found that “mowable” plants are the best bet for our window garden: herbs or leaf lettuce, spinach, endive and Swiss chard. We also grow root veggies for their edible greens. Think beets, turnips, mustard greens and radishes.

A friend in New York City warns that you need the right angle of sun for certain plants to thrive: “The growing season on our south-facing back deck lacks the early spring warmth of North Carolina, but my reliable winter-overs are lovage, chives and sage. This year’s sage plants are almost teenagers.”

A hiking buddy who actually harvested tomatoes from her potted plants says, “I’m no expert but I’ve learned the importance of light, food and water. The key lies in figuring out how much of each, when, and then adjusting the ratio to fit their needs.”

O.Henry colleague Maria Johnson takes her struggling plants to “the urgent plant-care clinic at Plants & Answers on Spring Garden Drive for a quick diagnosis.” If declared fatally wilted on arrival, “there are plenty of healthy replacements to choose from.”

If you’re really serious about all this, I suggest that you google “indoor garden links by Guilford County Master Gardeners.” Or check out a primer written by an extension agent in Person County, who, among many other tips, suggests using equal portions of peat and vermiculite for your soil; fertilizing your plants with a water soluble 15-30-15 formula; and choosing the right window or spot on the patio so that fruiting plants get at least 12 hours of bright light a day. Finally, remember, says the gardening-in-the-kitchen magician, that, except for root and leaf plants such as carrots and lettuce, “vegetables must be artificially pollinated for fruit development. Pollination can be accomplished by taking the powdery pollen from the bead-like anthers with a camel’s hair brush and placing it upon the stalk-like pistil.” And by now we all know plants respond well to music, so may I suggest you set the mood with your Marvin Gaye album? Because it’s time for your plants to get it on.

Just One Thing

Harriet Tubman, Mohandas Gandhi, Frederick Douglas and, seen here, Marian Anderson are just some of the familiar figures artist William H. Johnson (1901–1970) painted in his mid-1930s Fighters for Freedom series. Born to a poor African American family in Florence, S.C., in 1901, Johnson left his hometown behind at the age of 17, following his dreams of being an artist to the Big Apple. There, he worked a variety of odd jobs, saving money to put himself through the National Academy of Design and later serving as general handyman at the Cape Cod School of Art in Provincetown, Mass., where he studied with painter Charles Webster Hawthorne. It was Hawthorne who influenced Johnson’s bold use of color, seen throughout this series, which was created to honor African American activists. Featured were scientists, teachers and performers, as well as international heads of state who were valiantly working toward peace. Among his Fighters stands Marian Anderson, mouth open in song. A contralto, she was the first Black soloist to perform at both the Metropolitan Opera and the White House. In 1939, just a few years before Johnson painted this series, the head of the Daughters of the American Revolution denied Anderson permission to perform at the DAR Constitution Hall because of the color of her skin. Subsequently, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt resigned from DAR and, just a couple months later,  presented Anderson with the Spingarn Medal, which recognizes outstanding achievement by an African American. Anderson died in 1993 at the age of 96. You can admire her vibrant, colorful portrait, along with several Fighters for Freedom, at Weatherspoon Art Museum’s exhibit, Sept. 6–Nov. 29. Info: weatherspoonart.org/exhibitions_list/fighters-for-freedom-william-h-johnson-picturing-justice.

Window on the Past

Among the vast vinyl collection of the Greensboro History Museum, one shines brightly — the 1976 Rick Dees gold record of the satyrical novelty song “Disco Duck.” Dees, who graduated from Grimsley decades ago, is still rocking a smashing radio broadcasting career. You can tune in to his voice on his syndicated Rick Dees Weekly Top 40 Countdown, and, if you’re a really lucky duck, you might catch him going quack-quack, quack-quack.

Unsolicited Advice

You’ve seen them already, the early signs of fall. No, we’re not talking about foliage — this is North Carolina, folks. But Starbucks released its seasonal menu late last month, so don’t be surprised to catch a whiff of pumpkin spice on someone’s breath. Get used to it. How about some ideas to get into the spirit of the season, Southern style?

Haul out the flannel shirt! But rip off the sleeves for a look that says, “I love fall!” Or, “Wanna hop on my hog?” Either way, we’re into it. And you can repurpose the sleeve by filling it with maize to use as a door draft stopper for when the fall breezes actually start blowing.

Forget the steaming cup of mulled cider. Since we’re in Piedmont North Carolina and it’s still September, cool off with a chilled cider slushy. Sugar, spice and loads of crushed ice. And a dash of brandy for the 21+ crowd.

Crank up the oven for fall baking. Think chocolate-chip pumpkin bread, homemade cider donuts or apple spice cake, the cozy scent of cinnamon and nutmeg wafting throughout your home. Just don’t forget to also crank up the AC, or hints of perspiration will also be in the air.

Take a leaf-peeping road trip. According to Google Maps, it’s only about 17 1/2 hours to Maine’s Mount Katahdin.

And if there’s one thing no other region can top, it’s college football season. Where else is it warm enough to go shirtless and paint your entire torso for game day? Take it from us and spring for the sweatproof paint or you’ll be a puddle of school colors by halftime.

Sazerac August 2025

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August 2025

Unsolicited Advice

August, it turns out, is the month that most babies are born in the United States. Editor Cassie Bustamante and her older brother are both early-month Leos, born a couple years apart. Knowing that, we don’t have to guess what many Americans are up to in early November, when the weather cools and the days darken. Brown chicken brown cow, if ya catch us. We thought we’d share a list of words we’re fond of that sound like they’d make beautiful baby names, but which we beg you not to use for your August child.

Calamity. Sure, it means sudden disaster, but it rolls adorably off the tongue. And wouldn’t Callie be a sweet nickname?

Dash. Em dash, en dash, DoorDash. Frankly, we like all the dashes. It could even be short for Kardashian, but, whatever you do, never — ever — call them Hyphen.

Lattice. Like Gladys — and makes us think of flowering vines. Or atoms arranged in a crystalline solid, whichever floats your boat.

Typhus. Dionysus was the Greek god of wine, vegetation and fertility. His brother, Typhus, may have been the god of lice, chiggers and fleas.

Arugula. She’s feminine but a little peppery, too. And we bet anyone with this name won’t fight you on eating her greens.

Imbroglio. Sounds masculine and Italian and we’re here for it. Google the meaning before you use it, though, or you might find yourself in “an acutely painful or embarrassing misunderstanding.”

Sage Gardener

What’s in a name? Well, everybody who’s had a halfway decent English teacher knows that dandelion is derived from the Anglo-French phrase “dent de lion” (lion’s teeth, from the leaf’s indented teeth). But did you know that tulip comes from the Turkish “tülbent,” meaning turban; or that the petunia’s name is from the Tupi word petíma for tobacco, stemming from how the two plants are botanically related; or that azalea is Greek for dry, parched and withered, so named for its ability to thrive in a dry climate?

Probably not, unless you subscribe to Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day.

It’s my guess that the author of that piece probably has a copy of Diana Wells’ 100 Flowers and How They Got Their Names, along with William T. Stearns’ Dictionary of Plant Names for Gardeners. And I suspect his or her copy is as tattered as mine is. 

So let’s start with the dogwood, our state flower, whose wood was supposedly used to build the Trojan horse and whose berries turned Odysseus’ men into pigs. That, according to Wells, who also says the tree’s leaves, bark and berries “have been used to intoxicate fish, make gunpowder, soap and dye, make ink and clean teeth.” You’ve doubtless heard the legend that the old, rugged cross was made of dogwood, and Jesus, feeling the tree’s remorse, transformed it henceforth into a twisted dwarf so that it could never be used for another crucifixion. As for its name, I’m understandably partial to the 1922 theory of L.H. Bailey that its leaves were used to shampoo mangy dogs.

The pine, our state tree, springs from the Latin “pinus,” which etymologists guess (they do a lot of that) derives from a form of the verb “pie,” which means “to be fat or to swell,” with their opining it’s a reference to the pine’s sap or pitch.

Let’s just skip over orchid, which comes from the Greek “orchis,” meaning testicle. And who wants to dwell on the origin of forsythia, named after English gardener William Forsyth, whose recipe for Forsyth’s fruit-tree-healing plaster consisted of cow dung, lime and wood ashes amplified by a splash of soapsuds and urine?

Let’s just go back to Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day, which once featured plant names that sound like insults. Go ahead, call someone a hoary vervain, stink bell, bladderwort or a dodder. I could go on and on, but my editor has a thing about brevity. So I’ll close with my favorite names of wildflowers — whorled tickseed (whorled means a pattern of spirals or concentric circles), Jacob’s ladder, sweet William, Dutchman’s breeches, foam flower, American boneset, Joe Pie weed, white turtlehead and lanceleaf blanket flower. Pure poetry on the stem or vine.  What is it about our wanting to know the names of plants and animals, as if that little tidbit of knowledge gives us some kind of power? And what is it about a plant’s name that seems so intriguing? As my guide once blurted out after two weeks on a tributary in the furthest reaches of the Amazon River, “Bailey, most people just want to know the name of the dingus, and once told, they shut up. But you’re relentless and keep asking questions.” I told him that it was in my job description as a reporter and an incredibly nosy parker. Besides, I said, I was an English major — until I changed my major to Classical Greek. He just shook his head.    

Window on the Past

Back in the 1950s when families still swam in Lake Hamilton, most moms chatted on the shore as they kept a watchful eye on their children. But not Betty. She just wanted to be left alone with her magazine. And who can blame her?

Just One Thing

As children, we’re taught to recognize patterns. Our music teacher has us clap out one-two, one-two-three. Our science teacher shows us how to recognize patterns in nature’s wonder — the gills of a mushroom or the arrangement within a DNA molecule. Often, as adults inundated with information, we forget to take a moment to appreciate how patterns stimulate our brains. Weatherspoon’s current exhibit, “Pattern Recognition,” reminds us to find the beauty and meaning in them. Linda Besemer’s Baroquesy, 1999 — featuring acrylic paint over aluminum rod, is part of the Weatherspoon collection on display in this exhibit. California-based Besemer knows a thing or two about pattern recognition and society’s strictures about the use of color. “What’s so predictable about the ‘too colorful’ rejection is that it implies that some color is OK, but too much is unacceptable,” she told Scottish artist and writer David Batchelor just a few years after this piece’s creation. She went on to say that she thinks “that the real problem with color is its containment and regulation.” Which, she says, reminds her of how  artists have regarded the female body throughout the history of Western art. Submerge your mind into Weatherspoon’s world of pattern  — and so much more —  through Jan. 10, 2026. Info: weatherspoonart.org/exhibitions_list/pattern-recognition.

Memory Lane

Leaving Lowe’s on Battleground one weekday, I felt a massive pang of nostalgia. The center of that entire property, directly across from ALDI, was the location of the studio and tower for WBIG 1470 AM radio, where Bob Poole broadcast his enormously popular morning show, Poole’s Paradise, throughout the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s.

The quick-witted, basso-buffo voiced, self-anointed “Duke of Stoneville” relocated to Greensboro from his New York network perch in 1952. Soon after, Bob and my father became drinking buddies. As a toddler visiting WBIG’s “Poole Room” while he was broadcasting live, I joined in whistling his theme song, which made Bob burst out laughing. As a teenager, some mornings I’d drop by the station with joke and trivia books.

After faithfully awakening Gate City denizens for 25 years with an audience share that will never be equalled, Bob Poole signed off mere weeks before his death in 1977. Legendary WCOG DJ Dusty Dunn inherited the “BIG” morning slot. In an interview conducted years ago, Dunn recalled negotiating his contract and, of all things, being asked if he wanted batteries included in his employment package: “I said, ‘Batteries? Batteries for what?’ She said, ‘Well, we gave Bob Poole batteries for his flashlight when he wakes up in the morning so he didn’t have to turn on the lights and wake his wife up.’ I couldn’t believe it!”

On the afternoon of November 20, 1986, after celebrating 60 years on the air, the parent company informed WBIG’s general manager that the station would go dark at 6 that evening. Shocked staffers and longtime on-air personalities gathered for a tearful sign-off led by Dusty Dunn.

That decision was basic economics — a relatively small operation was nestled atop an entire city block along Battleground Avenue’s exploding retail corridor, a plot of dirt far more valuable than any revenue a weak AM radio signal could generate.

The last shred left of WBIG’s existence on Battleground is Edney Ridge Road, separating ALDI and Lowe’s, in the 1950s paved for and christened after the founder of the station whose call letters were an initialism for We Believe In Greensboro.

Sazerac July 2025

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Sazerac July 2025

Unsolicited Advice

Nothing makes us prouder to be American than watching people stuff their faces with as many hot dogs as possible in 10 minutes. No, we’re not talking about mealtime around your cousin’s table. We’re talking about the Nathan’s Famous International Hot Dog Eating Contest, held annually on the Fourth of July. We don’t recommend you try it at home, unless you’re up for more explosions than the celebratory fireworks that night. But how ’bout a trip across America (courtesy of hotdog.org) to discover which toppings reign supreme in each region. And don’t forget to try ’em on a veggie dog. We’re not saying it will help the flavor, but it might just mask it enough.

In our home state, chili, slaw and onions are the name of the game. Because nothing pairs better with meat than more meat. And nothing follows it better than breath mints.

Boston’s Fenway Frank is both boiled and grilled, then served with mustard and relish, sometimes topped with baked beans. It’s basically a Beantown protein bar when you think about it.

The New Jersey boasts strong Italian vibes, served up on thick pizza bread and topped with onions, peppers and deep-fried potatoes. Fun fact: For just $3,500 a night, you can stay at the actual Jersey Shore house, but this hot dog will whisk you there for about $5 a pop.

Chicago-style dogs are more loaded than the bases at Wrigley when the visiting team is at bat. May we recommend going all the way with yellow mustard, dark-green relish, chopped raw onion, pickle spear, sport peppers, tomato slices and a dash of celery salt, which might just be enough explosive flavor to make that vegan dog palatable?

Window on the Past

Greensboro’s  love for downtown’s Zesto soft-serve ice cream shop, frozen in time in this early-1950s image, must have melted quickly because, according to records, the establishment lasted only a little longer than a soft-serve cone on a hot July day. Too bad — a 15-cent sweet treat would hit the spot right now.

Just One Thing

The intense stare of a 15-year-old Pablo Picasso reaches across one-and-a-third centuries vis-a-vis an India-ink-and-watercolor-pencil sketch by Greensboro artist Roy Nydorf. The retired Guilford College professor has works in the Hirshhorn, the Smithsonian, the Honolulu Academy, Weatherspoon — and now in the theater wings of the Steven Tanger Center for the Performing Arts. Curated by GreenHill Center for NC Art and on display until December, the exhibit features portraiture by a rich and varied cross-section of artists who have strong connections to the Triad area, including Sachi Dely, Aimée García, Zoe Grace Kamiya, Travis Lee Hicks, Jalen T. Jackson, Isabel Lu, Zaire Miles-Moultrie, William Paul Thomas and Joyce Williams. Nydorf once said, “If the simple image contains a vast complexity while retaining its purity and grace, then I have achieved my purpose.” We think Picasso would have agreed. Info: greenhillnc.org/portraits-from-the-triad.

Sage Gardener

Happy 249 years of flowering Democracy, America! And what better way to celebrate your birthday than to reflect on what the Founding Fathers would think of cultivars such as Stars-and-Stripes Petunia, the Freedom Flame Tulip and the Presidential Peony? 

These are just some of the star-spangled blooms that sprang from my hiking buddy’s iPhone when he asked it for a list of patriotic flowers. 

Randall’s a big fan of artificial intelligence, while I have my serious doubts. 

“American Beauty Rose,” Chat GPT chirped, “is a classic red rose symbolizing love and patriotism, and Liberty Bell Iris is a bearded iris named after the famous American symbol.” Not bad for a brain made up of ones and zeros, I conceded.

Next he turned to Microsoft Copilot. American Gold Rush Coneflowers led the list, “reflecting the historic pursuit of American dreams.” What? “Wasn’t the gold rush inspired more by greed than dreams,” I asked. Picky, picky, picky. Copilot also came up with Union Jack Phlox! Isn’t the Union Jack the national flag of Britain, whom we fought to become the United States? Copilot also recommended Edelweiss, puzzlingly, with the following explanation: “While not exclusively American, its white, star-like shape can symbolize the stars in the American flag, and it also symbolizes bravery.” Really? We both decided if we were students desperately using AI to write a term paper for American History the night before it was due, we might want another copilot.

Then Randall turned to his favorite artificial brain, DeepSeek, the Chinese latecomer that’s shaking up the whole AI industry by delivering high performance at a fraction of the development cost. Although it may not be particularly patriotic to point out, DeepSeek was, in our opinion, smarter, much more conversational and able to produce 20 decent candidates, compared to Chat GPT’s 12 and Copilot’s 13. And it sussed out some salute-the-flag names the other artificial brainiacs missed: the Betsy Ross Rose, for instance, “named after the historic flag maker, this white rose with a red blush honors early American history.” Sorta poetic, eh? Also, the Yankee Doodle Coreopsis, “a cultivar with red-and-yellow blooms, referencing the patriotic song.” And, finally, the “Old Glory Rose, named after the iconic U.S. flag’s nickname, often featuring red, white or blue hues.” These were well-penned, we decided, and certainly not sounding as if they had been made in China. 

Which got us thinking about how the Founding Fathers themselves would have reacted to the emergence of artificial intelligence. The answer came in seconds using Meta AI, a division of the company that owns and operates Facebook and Instagram. 

Thomas Jefferson would have been fascinated by it, we’re told. Benjamin Franklin would likely see it as a natural extension of human ingenuity. George Washington and John Adams would have been wary of it, worrying about job displacement, privacy concerns and its implications on social structures, morality and the human condition.

How about Alexander Hamilton? “Hamilton’s creative and imaginative nature might have inspired him to explore AI’s potential in science fiction or speculative writings, envisioning a future where humans and machines coexist.” 

At that point, we decided to put our phones away and be thankful for the fireworks display of wildflowers all along the trail.   — David Claude Bailey

Writing Contest Last Call

We will accept submission to our 2025 writing contest only until the end of the month. What are you waiting for? This one is a bit unique in that we’re asking you to write your own obituary — a faux-obituary, that is. Get to your keyboard and let it RIP. Is this an exercise in imagining how you want to live the rest of your days or is it all about what you want to be remembered for? Whether dead serious or playful and fun, let it be something to make O.Henry readers remember you forever.

Don’t forget the rules.

  • Submit no more than 250 words in a digital format – Word or Pages document, a PDF. Paste it into an email, or carve into stone. More than 250 words? You’re dead to us.
  • One submission per person: Email entries to cassie@ohenrymag.com
  • Deadline to enter is July 31, 2025.
  • Winners will be contacted via email and their submissions will be printed in a forthcoming issue.
  • Lastly, life is short. Have fun with this assignment!

Sazerac June 2025

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June 2025

Just One Thing

“My bond with nature began in childhood with time playing in the woods and helping my grandmother in her flower gardens,” says artist Emily Clare, named for both her grandmother, Emily, and her grandfather, Clarence. Since 1987, Emily Clare’s work has been exhibited in galleries throughout much of the Southeast and has reached as far as Australia. These days, Emily Clare can be found strolling by evening light around her Winston-Salem home or exploring woodlands of the Southeast, where she collects native, invasive and exotic plants she then presses as the basis of her work. Rather than traditional paint and brushes, she uses leaves, vines or blades of grass, and ink, allowing nature to dazzle as it unfurls its wondrous design. “Each one has a message they leave on paper,” she says. For her, creation is meditation. And for us, the observers, her work invites us to be more mindful, to reflect on being stewards of Earth’s natural resources. Seen here, Native Grass 1 depicts tall, wild and free — rather than meticulously mowed — blades printed using Akua ink and accented with gouache, watercolor and iridescent paint on Arnhem 1618 paper. Its shots of neon pink and cerulean blue catch the eye as you take an indoor nature walk through her “Botanical Dreamscapes” exhibit in Revolution Mill’s Central Gallery, on display through June 20. Info: revolutionmillgreensboro.com/events.

Another Candle on the Cake

Last of the late-1950s Rockabilly stars, Billy “Crash” Craddock turns 86 years old this month. A lifelong resident of Greensboro, he was 18 years old in 1957 when he recorded his first 45 single locally on the Sky Castle label, named after the teenybopper hangout on High Point Road known for its elevated WCOG-AM DJ booth. He was signed by Columbia Records a year later.

In 1959, he became a bonafide teen idol in Australia, where, during his first tour there, screaming fans greeted him everywhere he went. “Boom Boom Baby” rocketed to No. 1, the first of four top-10 platters down under. “I was excited just to be in the business and nervous at the same time,” Craddock told me in 2009. “The record company took a picture of me combing my hair on top of a building in New York. When it came out in a magazine they called me ‘pretty boy.’ I didn’t like that.”

Hits mostly eluded him stateside in the ’60s, but that changed in a big way after his 1971 “Knock Three Times” hit No. 3 on the Billboard country chart. “Wow, what a feeling riding around Greensboro,” he recalled. “Seemed like every time I’d move the radio dial, it was playing. Every station, ‘Knock Three Times’ was either getting started or ending. I thought, Is this for real?” His followup country radio release, “Ruby, Baby,” cruised into the No. 1 spot.

A string of chart-toppers followed, culminating in his biggest smash in the summer of ’74, “Rub It In,” which not only landed in first place on the country chart, but also hit No. 16 across all musical genres on the Billboard Hot 100. Still rockabilly to the roots, country to the core in his 80s, Craddock thrilled the studio audience on Country Road TV in 2024, covering a Tammy Wynette tune, “Darlin’ Take Care of Yourself.” 

A bridge over the rail lines on 16th Street is dedicated to Billy “Crash” Craddock, but locals who knew him before he began mining gold records remember him as the down-to-earth guy who hung sheet rock in their homes during those lean years before he began mining gold records. Rub it in, why don’tcha?  — Billy Ingram

Window on the Past

This photo, taken in the 1940s, is part of the Abraham H. Peeler collection held by the Greensboro History Museum. Peeler, long-time principal at the historic J.C. Price School, was heavily involved with Camp Carlson, one of the first camps in North Carolina created for Black Boy Scouts. These 10 lads are definitely dressed for adventure with the classic campaign hats and official-issue field uniforms, complete with kerchiefs and knee-high socks with garter flashes. Obviously trustworthy, loyal, helpful, courteous, kind, obedient, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent, they were on their honor to do their best to help other people at all times and to keep themselves physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight.

Unsolicited Advice

June is chock-full of celebrations, some we’ve already marked in our planners — Father’s Day, Summer Solstice, Juneteenth, Pride Month and the highly anticipated National Accordion Awareness Month. (This is not a joke. Nor is Bed Bug Awareness Week. Look it up.) In 2014, June was also designated as Alzheimer’s & Brain Awareness Month, so we thought we’d share some of our favorite ways to boost brainpower:

Brain teasers: Ever play The New York Times’ Connections? You have to find the common bond between several words. Try this: safety, candy, DJs, home ownership. Answer: They all have their own national month in June.

Board games: Our fav? The one where someone puts bits of cheese and fruit all over the board and challenges us to eat it all. Haven’t lost yet.

Crossword puzzles: Like Katy Perry, you’re up then you’re down — but never clueless. Amp up your cognitive flexibility and reserve, short- and long-term memory, and problem-solving skills.

Sleep: Catching Z’s is vital for brain restoration and repair. But maybe you lie awake at night already fully aware of bed bugs. Let a Calm app celebrity-narrated “Sleep Story” lull you to slumber. Because the last voice you want to hear at night isn’t your partner’s. It’s Matthew McConaughey’s.

Learn a new skill: Think languages or instruments. Accordion, anyone?