July 2009 • Vol. 6, No. 01 A Shoreline Community, Pine Knoll Shores, N.C.
Town Hall 247-4353
On love and near-loss
By Regan White
Editors Note: This article appeared in
the Charlotte Weekly shortly after Bill's
surgeries were completed. It appears
with the author's permission and that
of her grandfather.
"If you don't use it, you'll lose it,
people!" the Pilates instructor recently
informed our crowded class as we
strained and stretched.
"That's right!" one enthusiastic 80-
year-old agreed with a quasi-comical
"Yes, sir," she continued. "If you don't
use it, you'll lose it."
I considered this as I tried to avoid
thinking about the excessive mouth
breathing coming from the classmates
on my side of the room. Our teacher
was referring to our muscles, the
body's well-oiled powerhouses. As I
struggled to touch my toes, I thought
of my grandfather. I've always called
him Pa, a nickname that caught on with
the family in the days when "grandpa"
was too much of a mouthful for me to
get out with ease. Of course, the name
carries a different coimotation now that
we live in the South, but no one seems
Pa's a writer, just like me. Once
a newspaper man in
the New York area,
he now volunteers his
wordsmithery for an
Outer Banks paper called
The Shoreline. In the last
issue he contributed to
before driving here with
mygrandmother for some
health tests a week or two
ago, my grandfather
wrote a column
called "Some Sole
The premise, while
laid blame for his
belly paimch on his penchant for penny
loafers and other slip-on shoes. He
mused that if he'd worn lace-up shoes
most of his life, maybe he wouldn't have
a rotund middle that makes it difficult
for him to tie his golf shoes. He also
pondered merely procuring some slip-
on golf shoes to solve the problem.
If you don't use it, you'll lose it.
Pa wound up having a triple bypass
on Friday. Sitting in his hospital room
the morning of his surgery, as my aunt
and I watched the minute hands of the
clock tick toward 5:30 a.m., when they
would wheel my grandfather away,
I thought of that column. I thought
about how sad it would be if those
were his last printed words in this
world - stubbornly justifying a health-
compromising middle with a love for
loafers. How like him.
If you don't use it, you'll lose it.
Love's a lot like that, too.
My grandfather and I in Wilmington in the '80s.
I'd like to say we look much different these days.
We don't. I wish I could still wear those sandals
and Pa wishes he could find - andstillfitin - those
pants again. Photo courtesy of Regan Wliite
Tribute to Bill
By Ciena Tomasso
According to the dictionary, a mentor
is "a close, trusted coimselor or guide."
See also, Mr. Bill White. He has allowed
me to be a contributing reporter for The
Shoreline. For some reason, over three
years ago, I decided to call and ask to
contribute an article. I'd decided on The
Shoreline, and then picked a person to
call off the list. Lucky for me, Mr. White
was on the list as "Editor," so I ended
up calling him. He agreed to letting me
contribute, and thus began my 'career'
as a journalist.
During my time at The Shoreline,
Mr. White has given me numerous
assignments and deadlines, which
resulted in me becoming a better
reporter. He has always been kind and
supportive. He is the main reason for
Continued on page 2
By Charlie McBriarty
Yes, it is goodbye to Bill White,
Managing Editor of The Shoreline. Bill
and his wife Barbara have moved to
Charlotte to be closer to family and their
doctors. This relocation, while not totally
unanticipated, occurred rather quickly
for the Whites.
The first article in this edition, "No
more 'waisted' efiforts" by Regan White
(Bill's granddaughter), chronicles Bill's
medicalsagathatbegan in March. Suffice
it to say, by mid-May Bill had recovered
Is Part Of Your
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Jt Easier Is Ours.
' Served by Delta & US Airways, with
direct flights to Atlanta & Charlotte.
Continued on page 4 Continued on page 3
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