Viewpoints
June 5, 2I02
THE NEWS-JOURNAL Raeford. n.c.
One on One
D. G. Martin
North Carolina
writes about
women
of the South
“Wh;it have you been reading?”
it is my favorite question.
These past few weeks I have
been reading about one of my fa
vorite topics — Southern women.
am going to tell you just a bit
about five great new books about
Southern women by North Caro
lina authors. If you read this col
umn to the end, I will also share
with you some good news that
explains why I am reading so many
books these days.
The Modern Library’s new col
lection of Elizabeth Spencer’s
short fiction. The Southern
Woman, should be a permanent
part of the bookshelf of every fan
of Southern literature. Ms.
Spencer’s novels and short stories
have been nationally acclaimed
si nee she began writing them more
than 50 years ago. This volume is
a selection from her best short
fiction covering her entire career.
It includes her classic short novel.
Light In The Piazza, and more
than 25 other stories. One of my
favorites. First Child, is set in North
Carolina, at the beach, where
young lovers on a weekend vaca
tion, babysitting the woman’s
nephew, learn about a possible life
together — one that doesn’t work
out. Like Ms. Spencer’sothercom-
plex stories and character studies.
First Child is set in what would be
ordinary place, except that her rich,
sensitive, and sometimes sensu
ous descriptive powers make the
ordinary special for us.
Hillsborough’s Michael
Malone’s new book. Red Clay,
Blue Cadillac: Stories Of Twelve
Southern Women, is quite a dif
ferent kind of book. His stories
about strong women characters are
almost all set in North Carolina.
They are usually in the middle of a
mystery story in which they take
matters into their own hands —
and sometimes get away with it.
Even when Malone’s plots are a
little strained, his stories entertain
and engage. You will see some of
your friends in his characters. Red
Clay, Blue Cadillac is a great va
cation book. All the stories are
great page-turners, and you will
be proud to show off the cover that
tells your friends you are reading a
highly respected writer like
Michael Malone.
University of North Carolina
Professor Trudier Harris’s new
book. Saints, Sinners, Saviors:
Strong Black Women In African
American Literature is about the
popular images of African-Ameri
can women as portrayed by im
portant authors. Her premise is a
shocking one. She asserts that the
popular image of African Ameri
can women as strong and resilient
is a problem. Instead of a positive
factor for Black women, it is a
negative, a disease called strength,
according to Harris. 1 found my
self arguing with her from the be
ginning. But I was surely engaged.
Her book is important because it
challenges conventional thinking.
Even if they do not agree with her,
Harris helps her readers clarify
their understanding of an impor
tant block of literary work and
gives them new ways to see the
racial differences that still compli
cate life in our region.
Joan Medlicott’s third volume
in her ladies of Covington series is
an easier read. It is a continuing
story about three women, all past
retirement age, who have recently
moved to a farm in the North Caro
lina mountains. From The Heart
Of Covington centers on the ar
rival of the adult daughter of one
of the three women. The new
comer, who has been estranged
from her mother for years, comes
to the farmhouse to recover from
an accident and the loss of a loved
one. The women try to wrap their
arms around this new woman. But
taking care of her is not easy, and
bringing her into their home com
plicates the lives of everyone else
The ladies of Covington and
their stories will grow on you and
deliver a warm pleasure.
All these four great books
(See MARTIN, page I2A)
Death by peach tree preferable to feelings resulting from a physical A View from
A couple of weeks ago I decided I
needed a good physical examination.
It just seemed to me it was time to
check all the vitals. Whenone getsold
and close to the topof the hi II, one will
think about those things.
I wasn’t prompted to get a physical
because I felt bad; most of the time I
feel good. As my father used to say,
“If someone asks you how you feel,
tell him ‘good’ because nobody is
interested in how you feel.” If you are
ever tempted to ask someone how he
feels, and he or she spends 45 minutes
of your time telling you, don’t com
plain because I just warned you.
Regardless, I got a physiciil and :i
good one. When those necessary tests
came back, I was informed that 1 would
probably live a while longer; although
there are no guarantees, life should be
rosy. 1 have felt worse than a run-over
dog since 1 got that physical. Instead of
getting one in the future I think I will
just die a natural death or get killed by
a fallen peach tree.
You can get carried away with
these things and get some answers
you don’t want to hear. Just as the
wife who got up early one morning
and exclaimed, “Oh God, I’m con
vinced my mind is almost completely
gone.”
Her husband looked up from the
newspaper and commented, “I’m not
surprised, you’ve been giving me a
piece of it every day for 20 years.”
* * * * +
The 47th reunion in Gibsonville is
now history. We had a great time.
Once again, 1 discovered that many
people have some serious eye prob
lems. If you haven’t seen a person in
many years and they say to you, "You
haven’t changed since the first time 1
saw you.” If the first time was 50
years ago, they are either lying or
should see their eye specialist imme
diately, because they are going blind.
Now don’t get me wrong; no one at
the reunion told me such. However,
when I spoke, a good 100 yards from
the house, a member of the class yel led,
“That is Raz Autry, 1 could tell that
voice anywhere.” At least after 47
years some part of me can be recog
nized. 1 reminded some of the class
members when they invited me to be
the graduation speaker that it was my
first graduation speech. In jest, I also
said that 1 gave three more at different
graduations and then realized that no
one was listening. A member of the
class said, “1 was listening, see if this
line is familiar to you'.'”
He then quoted it. “Nothing you do
in life is important unless it makes
you a better person.”
1 remembered that statement; there
fore I was convinced at least one
person was listening.
The class reunion brought a lot of
good memories back to me. It was a
different time in a different day. Most
high schools had from three to four
hundred students, the school was the
meeting place for every thing that took
place. The student body took pride in
their school and respected those who
taught. When a student was disci
plined, his parents were concerned.
They usually visited the school to see
how they could help. Just a mother
and father showed up; a lawyer wasn’t
present. Things weren’t perfect; mis
takes were made just as they are to
day. The difference the people talked
about them and sought a solution.
One of my greatest moments came
with my first principalship. The high
school boys were hardheaded just as
they are in many situations today.
However, you didn’t worry about
drugs, except in the form of alcohol
— they would nip at parties if they
could get away with it. I had the same
rule I had for 20 years as a high school
principal. If a student skipped school
I gave him or her a two-day vacation
and required them to bring one of
their parents when they returned to
school. One particular cut-up, a fine
young man — nevertheless one who
could get in a lot of mischief — de
cided it was more important to go
ftshing than attend school. I can relate
to that, because I love to fish, but there
is a time and place for everything.
Cutting school is not the time and
place. His mother brought him back
to school when his two days were up.
However, she waited until all of the
high school boys were on their lunch
break. She marched him in front of
them holding her hand; then she
brought him to my office. I never had
to discipline him again. The mother
knew there was more than one wav to meoi not," Mrs. Smith said,'inite;ich
skin a cat. time a train enters the station, the bed
***** shakes so bad I fallout."
My parting thought — Mr. Jones Checking his watch, Jones said,
stood in the bedroom of the house "'I'heie's ;i titiin due in just a minute,
he'd just built. Do you mind if I see lot myself? ”
Smith pointed tuit which side was
hers, and Mr. Jones lay down. Mo
ments later Mr. Smith walked in.
“Hey,” he bellowed, "Just what do
you think you are doing?”
“Would you believe,” said the
the Country
Raz Autry
"I don’t care whether you believe Not objecting in the least, Mrs. builder, "Waiting for a train?”
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