In Memory of George Bateman Jr.

George Earl Bateman, Jr., 62, of Vanceboro, died January 28, 2013 at home. A former resident of Hobucken, George Jr. was preceded in death by his parents George Bateman Sr. and Margaret Bateman.

He is survived by his wife Alice Bateman, one step-daughter, Tammy Dover of New Bern; one brother, Stanley Bateman of Virginia; two sisters, Carolyn Ford of Honeybrook, PA; Rosie Willis of Reelsboro; five grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren.

A memorial service will be held at 2:00 pm Thursday, January 31, 2013 at Cotten Chapel with Pastor Dwight Williams officiating. Visitation will be following the service.

Island Trivia

When an Islander says they are going "out the road" or "through the swamp", do you know where they are going?  Leave a comment if you do....or think you do.

No Place Like Home

     What does the word home mean to you?  It can take on several different meanings such as a place to sleep or a place where one finds comfort.  It can mean a place of well-being and calm.  My definition of home is a place defined by our landscape and surroundings, traditions and our connections with our families.
     I have just returned home from a week's vacation in the Shenandoah Valley and Appalachian Mountains.  It has become a yearly tradition that I join my daughter Alison every January at Massanutten.  We spend the week snow skiing, exploring the mountain villages and relaxing with each other. Massanutten is located just minutes west of the Shenandoah National Park, between Luray and Harrisonburg, Virginia.  Steeped in the rich, local history of the Civil War, the region is home to numerous dairy farms, mountain retreats and caverns.
     While in the Shenandoah Valley region this week, me and Alison got a chance to talk to a few "real" local natives of the area.  It was evident that they love their mountainside home just as much as we love our seaside hamlet.  They spoke passionately about the mountains, the ridges and hollows that define their little  nooks within the mountainside.  Their homes are secluded within the crevices of Swift Run Gap, surrounded by forests, the wildlife, the clouds and the ghosts of those Civil War soldiers who followed Stonewall Jackson through the valley.
     At the eastern base of the Shenadoah National Park on Route 33, is a small mountain community called Lydia. Most of the residents are descendants of those families who were forced to vacate their homes within the newly created national park in the early 1900's.  There is still a bitterness among the locals of being "bought out" by the federal government and the repossession of family lands.  Their family cemeteries are within park service boundaries.  An agreement between the families of mountain descendants and the park service allows the families to continue to maintain the small, burial plots on the mountain.
     There are not many modern family homes in this community.  When you drive through, it is almost as if you are stepping back in time.  Smoke wafts from their chimneys, firewood stacked along the porches, and homes with no paint.  It almost looks like a scene from the movie Deliverance.  Sometimes I almost imagine the banjo picking boy sitting on one of those porches.  This little community is also in "shine" country.
     My daughter struck up a conversation with a retired professor turned water colorist from the University of Maryland one evening.  He had painted a picture called The Laundry House.  She noticed right away that she had seen this house on her many travels to Massanutten and it's location in the community of Lydia.  The professor told her the story about the house.   Built many years ago, the home is tucked along the edge of the mountain and Route 33, Spotswood Trail.  The occupants of the home hang their laundry on their porch clothes line.  The hanging laundry is a message or a "sign" that the moonshine is ready.  Even the color patterns or types of clothing indicate the cost or flavor.

Photo by Greg Versen.

      We were so enthralled by this story that we had to go see for ourselves.  Unfortunately, no laundry was hanging from the line when we rode by.  But the story was of true mountain folklore.
      I saw many similar characteristics of both the mountain community of Lydia and Goose Creek Island.  These are places where women wore sunbonnets while weeding their gardens, families that feasted on the earth's bounty of wildlife, and lived among the multitude of blessings that enriched their lives.  I could imagine folks visiting one another on their porches, their voices singing in the church and their walks along the dark paths at night with only the stars above providing illumination.
     It is the people's stories and their folklore traditions that make a community a home.  Whether it is in the mountains or along the shores of Goose Creek Island, it is a place were people live in harmony with each other and their surroundings.  It is the people who are the backbone of the land; strong, independent, salt of the earth people.
     Whenever you have the opportunity to visit a region away from home, make it a point to really explore and talk with the "real" people of the area.  You will find that although you may live miles apart, you will see how similar your homes are to each other.

For those of you who are interested in visiting the Shenandoah National Park, I encourage you to visit their museum at Big Meadows.  This museum tells the story of the creation of the National Park during the depression years and also focuses on the families who lived there.  President Herbert Hoover's mountainside home is located within and can be accessed in the summer time.  For more information, go to www.nps.gov/shen/


    

The Sound of Freedom

     For the past couple of days, the Marine Corps out of Camp Lejeune and Cherry Point have been doing training maneuvers offshore.  Because I have a home in close proximity to Cape Lookout and my office is near Bogue Air Field, the sounds of planes, helicopters and the occasional "boom" has become the norm this week.  Their training has brought back some reminders of living on Goose Creek Island.  How many times have we heard those jets screaming across Pamlico Point?  I can remember seeing the night sky lit up many times from their flares when they were doing target practice out at "the target ship".
     Many of us have also witnessed some tragedies of the Marines training near our shore.  I came across a newspaper article from August 1987 when a Cherry Point Harrier jet crashed in a field on Goose Creek Island. Here is the article.

“Plane Crashes With 2 Marines.” The Washington Post. East Carolina University Joyner Library, August 13, 1987. Web. January 09, 2013.

     I know there have been numerous controversies over the years surrounding the Marine Corps activities in Pamlico Sound. This Journal entry is not to inflict any arguments concerning their use of our area waters.  This entry is just merely a reflection of a memory.  I am proud of our service men and women and the wonderful job they do to protect our country.  Those pilots who fly over our "little neck of the woods"  only see Goose Creek Island as a spot on a map, but one thing about it, if Goose Creek Island ever got invaded....well, those invaders won't stand a chance of survival because those Marine Corps pilots sure can aim pretty good.  I know, I've heard them!

Let's Cook Collard Greens

Audrey Potter Lewis in early 1950's in the garden. Notice the beautiful collards.
Photo courtesy Lewis Family Collection (C)

          Collard greens. Nothing exemplifies being from Goose Creek Island or Eastern North Carolina than this traditional time-honored dish.  Collards hold an important place on the table and there is no other vegetable that is more unique to a Goose Creek Islander.  I am willing to bet there have been more collards harvested on the Island than any other food crop.
     When you mention collards you've got yourself a conversation, lecture, argument and even a sample from your neighbor.  Native Islanders have strong feelings about their collards.  It's one of those no-nonsense vegetables but it has always been something that Island folks could count on to put on the table.  If there were no fish caught, you could count on a pot of collards to fill you at the dinner table.
     Maybe us Islanders have an affection for the collard.  Maybe it is because Yankees can't have them nor cook them like we do.  It's too cold up North to grow anything but here in Eastern North Carolina, we have the right region, seasons and soil to grow anything good.  Not to mention, those first couple of coastal frosts certainly make those collards a little bit better for the pot.  Most of us will agree that you have got to be native born and bred to appreciate our collards.
     However, there is one thing that everyone who loves collards can't agree on.  That is how to cook them.  The ingredients are simple but the variations are endless. Some folks use salted pig tail for seasoning. Some use ham hocks or streak o' lean.  Some folks use a combination of all three but its the method of cooking them that prompts various opinions.
     My great grandmother Elma Ballance Potter of Lowland, raised five collard-loving children.  Even the numerous grandchildren were taught the value of eating a bowl full of collards at her table.  Grandmama knew just how to plant, nurture, tend and cook them.  She would select her best growing collard plants and "let them go to seed".   But before all of the seeding and planting of the collards, there were other important events that had to take place to make a great pot of collards.  Hogs had to be killed.  The pork had to be salted, seasoned, brined and made ready for the coming winter and spring.  Pepper vinegar also had to be made with the hot peppers that were grown that summer.
     In the spring, she would plant the seeds.  There are several varieties of collards but I believe she always planted what was called the Cabbage Collard.  Within a few weeks, the plants would have grown large enough to harvest the outer leaves.  She would put a big chunk of salt pork or pig tail in a large cook pot and boil.  While this was boiling, she would wash and clean the collard leaves in the sink, discarding stems and those leaves that the bugs had chewed noticeable holes.  She also had to make sure there were no bugs hiding in the wrinkles of the leaves.
     While the collards were being cleaned, that boiling water was reducing down the salt pork to produce a flavorable base.  She would crush the leaves into the pot.  She would cram all that the pot could hold.  Once the water returned back to a boil, she would add any additional seasoning that was needed; salt, pepper, sugar.  The collards would simmer for about 1 1/2 hours until they became dull green and tender.  They would glisten with fat.  I don't think Grandmama ever worried that the collards weren't ever "greasy" enough. She always knew the right ratio.
     About 30 minutes before the collards were "done" she would make cornmeal dumplings.  Using some cornmeal, salt and enough water to form a paste, she would pat out little cornmeal dumplings (about the size of miniature pancakes) and lay them gently on top of the collards.  There, they would simmer for another 15 minutes or so.
     When it was time to serve the collards, the dumplings were lifted out of the pot and placed in a dish.  The pieces of pork or pig tail was removed and placed in the dish as well.  There is always somebody at the table who wants the pork meat.   Note, don't serve the pig tail at the table if a sensitive soul is eating with you. It has been known to diminish the collard experience of those who are faint of heart. 
     Lift out the collards and place in a large bowl.  Place on the table along side the hot pepper vinegar and a basket of homemade biscuits. 
     There has been no other vegetable in Goose Creek Island history that has served a better purpose than collards.  Whether it is a vegetable side dish to the main course or the main course itself, the collard is king to those who were raised on them.  And what can one do with those leftover collards?  The next day Grandmama re-heated them in a cast iron frying pan and served them up again. 
     I admit that I can not cook collards.  I have eaten my fair share of them and I certainly miss my Grandmama Elma and Granny Audrey's collards. I had asked Granny many times to help me to "learn how to cook them".  She always told me that my problem was that I was trying to make mine taste like hers or Grandmama's. She said, "you've got to make your collards your own way. No two persons collards taste alike."  I really need to learn.  Collard cooking for us younger generation will become a "lost art" if we don't keep carrying on those traditions.
     So for those of you out there who will be cooking up "a mess of collards" this weekend, just remember that those collards are good for "what ails ya".  According to Shape Magazine, collards is the #8 vegetable that makes people happy.  It is rich in Vitamin B and according to research, people who eat collards are less likely to suffer depressive symptoms.  So there you have it, the proof is in the research.....Goose Creek Islanders are some of the happiest people around....all because of those collards!