Asheboro Fall Festival

Posted on December 7, 2017 by Andrew Scott

Anyone who visits the Asheboro Fall Festival will quickly realize that “small, North Carolina town” is not synonymous with “lack of excitement.”

We arrived just before the start of the festival, 9:45 AM; however, the main streets of downtown Asheboro were already lined with cars. The sky was growing dark and rain made its way down onto the exponentially-growing crowd. Clearly, it takes more than a little congestion and water to keep the people of Asheboro away from a good time.

Walking into Main Street felt like being transported into another world. Vendors lined the streets; the aroma of fried food filled the air; parents let their children walk the street without fear for their wellbeing; and the overall mood was both chaotic and joyful in the best way. There was so much to take in, so many tents to walk up to and people to smile at, that we couldn’t decide what to do first.

Despite the large size of the festival–we stayed until noon, and it seemed like the people didn’t stop coming–traversing the streets of Downtown Asheboro felt like stepping into someone’s home. Every vendor and pedestrian we passed greeted us with smiles and a “How are y’all?” The large crowd didn’t stop children from finding their friends or adults from making small talk with nearly everyone they came across. Everyone knew everyone, or so it appeared, and that made Asheboro feel less like a town and more like a family.

If you plan on going to the Fall Festival in the future, bring a lot of cash. Or perhaps it might be better to come with none, lest you’re tempted to buy everything in sight. Tents along the road offered festival-goers the opportunity to browse locally made goods, from dream catchers to walking sticks. The local focus on goods only served to increase the sense of community.

Perhaps more tempting than the local vendors was the food. Tons and tons of food. Living up to the North Carolina reputation for barbecue, men dressed in camo and overalls lined the street, cooking dozens of pounds of pork for everyone to see. If pork isn’t your thing, well, then you could grab a turkey leg. And if you’re a vegetarian, there’s always roasted corn soaked with melted butter. While the southern cooking was most predominant, we were pleased to find a variety of ethnic foods as well, like Mexican and Greek. You might leave the festival empty handed, but you surely won’t leave with an empty stomach.

Whether you’re old or young, from Asheboro or Asheville, you’re bound to leave the Fall Festival satisfied and feeling at home. The town might be small, but they sure know how to throw a party.

Seeking Historic Sites in Franklinville, NC

Posted on December 14, 2016 by Clara Gomez

wall mural

After driving for 45 minutes past green fields and farms that seemed to belong in a Western film, we parked beside the Deep River and set foot on Franklinville soil for the first time. There was no one in sight and it was extremely quiet despite it being a Wednesday afternoon. Oh well, we had known this would happen. It’s common, after all, for people in small communities to commute onto other places like the nearby town of Ashboro to work. And it’s not like Janee, Cassidy, Laura and myself minded having the town to ourselves for a bit. We were on a mission to find all of the town’s official historic sites.

Trudging through the vast expanses of grass and pebble roads that bordered the clay-colored river, felt almost like walking through a giant farm. And, more due to desire to enjoy the pleasantly sunny weather than to the utter lack of signage, it took is a while to find the first historic landmark in our list: Faith Rock, a huge bluestone outcrop which marks the setting for Randolph County’s most legendary Revolutionary War incident (May 2, 1782). The Andrew Hunter Bridge, a few feet away, was not hard to find after that. And from atop its metal structure we could easily spot out second historic landmark; Island Ford.

A link to Franklinville’s prehistoric origins, the silted-up peninsula is -to this day – still surrounded by the four stone pillars that once anchored the ends of Franklinville’s previous iron bridge (built in 1906, demolished in 1969). But one still has to keep their eyes peeled when looking for it, or else the vines covering the pillars will convince you there’s nothing there to be seen.

Once across the river, we came upon a short nature trail. A cute little thing, with not much else but a campfire-ish alcove at its end. So we backtracked across the bridge and walked back to the car, hoping to find other landmarks a we drove through the town. Which is when we saw the iron locomotive.

Train

Very well-preserved, and mounted like a statue it was. And, though at first it reminded me of a hand-made, oversized toy, for a second there I think we all could not but feel sorry for it. Its age had passed, and there it was; still standing. Still a miracle of engineering. Why wasn’t it on our list? A thing to ponder indeed. Especially knowing that the rail road had helped keep the town alive since it reached Franklinville around the 1890’s

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Anyhow…we kept driving through the town and finally found our third landmark: Hank’s Lodge. The sophisticated, white, wooden, Greek revival style building was the first Masonic Lodge in Randolph County (1850). And, near it, we found Franklinville’s Restaurant (the only existing place to eat local food), but it was already closed. So we looked around some more and left the town, hoping to find a few more items to our list before it was time to leave.

Restaurant

The Franklinville Roller Mill was not hard to find once we drove out past the old rail road. The three-story brick building’s ruins are still there – and in pretty good condition, if I might add. It was built in 1913, when the Franklinsville Manufacturing Company replaced the antique grist mill with a completely new, greatly enlarged operation to process locally-grown wheat. And, unlike its predecessor, which used grinding stones, the new Roller Mill used steel rollers grind the grain. Some very old, clearly abandoned silos were seen nearby, later on. But they did not seem to be in any way related to the Roller Mill and we quickly moved on.

What else was there for us to do? Many places were clearly off limits – marked as the way with Private Property signs. Which meant that surely a few historic landmarks were out of our reach. And the other ruins we had stopped to look at earlier could not be identified properly. The spindles filled with yellowed yarn on the floor told us only that they belonged to either the Franklinville or the Randolph Manufacturing Company.

And so we left to town behind, having identified 4 (ish) landmarks out of 14.

Not bad, right?.

Not bad, indeed.

Saxapahaw General Store

Posted on December 12, 2016 by kflinn

By Jordan Stanley

Driving just off Highway 64, the road turns rural and winding, running flat against open fields and old farm homes. It feels, in many ways, that the road is taking you nowhere–until the car turns left around a wide bend and suddenly catapults you into the cultural oasis that is Saxapahaw, North Carolina. For tow n locals, as well as residents of Chapel Hill and Burlington in search of a liberal community, Saxapahaw provides a transport away from daily life. For Amidst a historical brick complex consisting of a local brewery, butchery, The Eddy Restaurant and Pub, and the Haw River Ballroom, there lies today’s destination: a yellow and red gas station and one-room general store.

The Saxapahaw General Store is even more than its slogan: “Your local five-star gas station.” While there are gas pumps outside–located at a cross section of the Saxapahaw Museum and the Hawbridge School–a fuel-up is not typically the primary draw for customers. Upon entering what might otherwise look like a typical brick-plaza exterior, visitors quickly realize the niche experience that the General Store has to offer. One might not even notice upon first glance that the store doubles as a restaurant, as the eye moves across the unique and eclectic expanse of merchandise. The three aisles in the store include a nice selection of local and nonlocal wines, beers, and kombucha; select grocery items such as pet food; and a plethora of artisan goods–ranging from organic name-brand snacks, to homemade chocolates, to all-natural soy candles and homeopathic lotions, oils, and hair products. The display of local products is frequently rotated, featuring different self-made t-shirts, hand-knit mittens, or personalized keychains. Despite artisan prices, it is easy to find small treasures that are special and worth the purchase.

Beside the aisles of shelves is an open seating area consisting of a series of booths and a long communal table. This is where restaurant patrons indulge in one of the many well-loved General Store menu items. The kitchen itself is visible from the counter where customers place their orders, built into view as part of the minimalist and transparent cuisine mission. If eaters come to dine on a sunny North Carolina day, they may eat outside on the terrace beneath vine-covered pergolas, sharing a bottle of wine or old-fashioned sodas while they wait for their server to bring out their meals.

The General Store menu is diverse, as well as reasonably priced taking into account the restaurant’s commitment to use farm-to-table and local ingredients whenever possible. By partnering with local farms, such as Benevolence Farm and the Saxapahaw butchery, all of the General Store’s food tastes fresh and (typically) healthy. The store serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner Monday through Friday, adding a special brunch menu for Saturday and Sunday mornings. This includes specialties such as the “Eggs Parma: two toasted English muffins beneath thick slabs of mozzarella cheese, two eggs of your choice, and topped with a light tomato sauce, reminiscent of a vodka sauce-gone-breakfast.”

The daily menu, while large, is punctuated by customer favorites. Catering to the bohemian traffic and atmosphere within the restaurant, the General Store offers a myriad of vegetarian, vegan, and gluten-free options. Some favorites include the Avocado-Mater sandwich, which includes avocado, veggies, and cream cheese on multigrain bread; the eggplant parm sandwich combats its typical reputation by being both light and flavorful; the vegetarian pad Thai made specially in house with a secret ingredient; and show-stopping sides such as the garlic-y brussels sprouts and mashed rosemary sweet potatoes. Even the omelets, filled with your choice of additional components–(suggestion: roasted vegetables, fresh tomato, and avocado)–set themselves apart from the meals of most breakfast joints. While the General Store seems to thrive on cooking simply and with the right combination of ingredients, it is this flavor that builds a unique and satisfying experience. Other favorites for meat-eaters include the brisket sandwich and duck fries, potato skins friend in duck fat. The Store also serves full dinners and offers many specials, written daily on the chalkboards by the counter.

In essence, the Saxapahaw General Store facilitates an experience that marries simplicity and indulgence. The order-counter, farm-to-table cooking, three-aisle merchandise, communal tables, and gas station setting brings a casual tone that welcomes any and all visitors. Yet an alternative atmosphere–from the people, to the artisan goods–allows customers to feel like they are on a quick vacation from the typical Piedmont North Carolina lifestyle. The General Store warrants a strong recommendation to visit for those who want to diversify their impression of North Carolina culture and who wouldn’t mind a short, worthwhile detour off Highway 64.

Smiley’s Barbeque

Posted on December 12, 2016 by kflinn

By Maggy McGloin

Lexington, North Carolina: the country’s home for delicious barbecue. Lexington is known for its vast history of barbecue since the town created its own preparation style. “Piedmont-style sauce is not tomato-based,” says Katie Quinne, a writer for Our State, North Carolina. “It still uses lots of vinegar but has a slight touch of ketchup that makes the mixture sweeter and redder, but not thicker.” Going forth, we knew that Lexington’s distinct, vinegar taste had always been in somewhat of a “battle” with their Eastern, ketchup-based counterpart. How could there be so much argument about barbeque? we thought. Could we even tell the difference?

We arrived in Lexington on a cloudy, Sunday morning with empty stomachs and a desire to learn more about what made this town unique. After our hour-long ride, we pulled into a deserted downtown Lexington. Sunday does not seem to be the day for explorations of a small, southern town. The town was quaint, cute, and looked like it had the potential to be a thriving scene on a weekend night. The walls adjacent to different stores were painted in muted greens and cream colors, looking like the perfect canvas for future wall art. There were flower beds still peeking out of window boxes due to the unnaturally warm autumn that had graced all of North Carolina this year. Soaking in the silence of the normally-thriving town, we got back in our car to visit (what we heard was) the best barbecue in all of Lexington, North Carolina.

We entered a scene that was far more ecstatic than the downtown area we had just left. Smiley’s Restaurant was filled with post-church diners, some with large families and some eating in solitude. They were all there for one purpose: to enjoy the best of what Lexington has to offer. We took our places and each ordered the specialty: sliced pulled-pork sandwiches. After our first bites, we instantly knew that Lexington barbecue trumped any other kind we’d had before. The sandwiches were garnished with sweet, apple-based cole slaw that perfectly fused the sweet and saltiness of the tart vinegar-base. The buns were toasted to perfection, there was no need for any extra sauces, condiments, or even a side dish. After our meal, our waitress approached us and stated that we “simply could not leave without trying the house-famous banana pudding.” We obviously gave in to that temptation and split one three ways.

As we exited the restaurant, we could not grasp the attention of any of the employees to ask our questions; Sundays were busy and each waitress and waiter were occupied. So, we poked around the restaurant to see what diversified Smileys from the rest of the barbecue restaurants in the area. One wall was plastered with newspaper clippings displaying the multiple occasions, people, and places the restaurant had catered to. The most eye-catching was a newspaper article from Lex ington’s local paper which described Christmastime in Lexington. “It’s a local tradition in the barbecue capital of the world,” said James Romoser, a reporter for the paper. “And for the people who prepare the meat, it means that the days before Christmas are a sleepless marathon of cooking over a smoky barbecue pit.”

Though it was a small taste, we classified Lexington as one of the most barbecue-savvy towns we had ever visited. We left Smiley’s with full stomachs and a newfound appreciation for the ancient process of seasoning meat.

Happy Fall Y’all!: A Day on Ramseur’s Main Street.

Posted on December 6, 2016 by Clara Gomez

ramseur-fall-festival

After spending 45 minutes listening to the Beetles and talking to a very jovial, eccentric, and extremely talkative red-headed Uber driver named Jimmy (whom turned out to be a knowledgeable farmer), I found myself stepping out into the tiny town of Ramseur, NC.

I had picked that day (October 15^th) of all days to visit, specifically because there was a Fall Festival going on from 9:00 am -5:00 pm. And, sure enough, the well-preserved downtown historical district was filled to the brim with white tents selling lots of colorful stuff — and people. Mostly stressed-out moms with cute, hyperactive kids. But also a few old couples and –get this– real-life boy scouts. Which I’d never seen out of a movie before. Trading stares was fun.

Later on, after walking along the street up and down a couple of times taking pictures, I decided to stop and buy a bag of fresh, fried pork skins. If only because, out of all the things being offered, they seemed to be the less common Fair food-type option. And also because the bulky lady selling them had a no-nonsense attitude I liked. So I chose a bag of yummy-looking, warm crisps, handed her a $5 bill and asked her right off the bat if she knew of any place where I could get some serious local Ramseur food.

“There’s the one MacDonald’s ‘round the corner. And the new Burger King too.”

Straight-faced, no nonsense reply.

I cocked my head to the side like a dog and blinked. Then smiled, thanked her and moved on.

A few tents down the street, a tired-looking boy-scout mom I talked to said the same thing to me.

So did an old couple who appeared to be selling posters or signs, another couple selling beautifully carved staffs and a guy handing out church pamphlets. Though I guess that last one felt sorry for me, because he told me I could try going to Amelia’s (information which a young couple I met in a parking lot later confirmed to be valid) before walking off.

#poutingworks

That’s how the good-natured policeman found me. Hair flying, looking totally lost, and yet purposefully walking across a street with no crosswalk towards Sherry’s.

Yep. Sherry’s, not Amelia’s. Because… it’s me. And because their street sign promised a home-cooked meal. Which Amelia’s, as far as I could tell, did not guarantee.

So, anyhow…

First, he scared the hell out of me by honking right as I was attempting to cross another street. Then he offered me a ride, and took me to BOTH Shelly’s (which was closed) and Amelia’s (also closed), before driving me back to the Fall Festival. How nice is that? I could’ve hugged him! But settled with giving him my bag of fried skins instead. His eyes sparked a bit.

I think he was pleased.

People there are so nice… Shame everything closes at 2:00 pm on weekends!. Oh well…

*cough* *cough*

Back in the Festival, I walked down the street once more and bought my first ever funnel cake. Dear god. How can something that looks like a squishy, yellow brain taste so good? I know I must have looked like a savage wolfing it down. Powdered sugar and all. Hehe’s what a complete, utter, happy mess! And with that live banjo music on the background… yikes.

An awesome, fitting end to my wanderings around Ramseur.

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Traveling Through Home: A Native of the Highway

Posted on November 25, 2014 by mreilova

By Jenna Hokanson -2014

The phrase “the grass is always greener” has never failed to boggle my mind. As humans tend to always want the things that are out of grasp to us, the things that we aren’t used to seeing every day. For instance, I cannot count on one hand how many times my friends and I have agreed to switch hair for the day. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve grumbled to myself about eating the same granola bar every day for a week, or how many times I’ve stared at my closet with “nothing at all to wear.” Yet all of these thoughts when looked at deeper remind me that while I may want what others have, others also want what I have. The Highway 64 project has reminded me of how important it is to notice how green your grass really is.

I’ve never been one to hate the place that I come from. At the same time I would say, I’ve never been one to love where I’ve come from either. This is likely due to the fact that I get bored far too easily and that I am often so busy dreaming about the places far beyond that I miss the gifts right under my nose. To be honest, the Piedmont has it’s qualities I could do without. I often disagree with some closed mind sets, and sitting around catching’ catfish is not my idealistic way of spending my morning. However, as we visited several towns along the way through the Piedmont of North Carolina, I found where my love does lie.

My love lies in the cities. I spent a summer working in Raleigh, NC during my college career, but who knew until this trip what I was missing in terms of cultural experiences. Not only did I have some of the best “upscale” home cooked food I have ever had, but the city offered a Multicultural Festival in which I sunk my teeth into the world that I have constantly thrived to know. I never knew that such a world could be so close. Not to mention the architecture of downtown, the tall buildings, and busy streets remind me of my own very mini New York City- which I love so much.

My love lies in the art. Because I feel I became bitter with the lack of everyone’s appreciation for art in my town, I forgot to realize that it is a staple in many people’s lives even if it’s not in everyone’s. Pittsboro, NC was the town I fell in love with at first sight. The mural on the wall outside of our parking spot- glass pieces,colored and mixed in with shards of mirrors, I saw myself in this mural and I saw myself in this town. After speaking with the owner of a local art shop, I found that art was indeed alive in this area and it was protected by those who desired to preserve it.

My love lies in the culture. Upon entering college, I never realized how unique the south truly was. I don’t mean to say I didn’t notice the thick drawl in the accents of my neighbors, or the fact that rebel flags are stilled deemed “appropriate” in some areas of my town. I mean to say that I never thought of how specific the south is in food, in manner, in religion, in relationships, and in the view of the world. While the south often is associated with being less progressive than other areas, I can appreciate the part of the south that is slow for the reason of letting themselves simply live. I don’t do that enough. I don’t just breathe in the crisp air and “shoot the breeze” on the porch. I admire that culture.

My love lies in the beauty. Driving along Highway 64 with a guest artist from London, he watched the streets and the trees with such delight. Saying how much he loved the little picket fences and how gorgeous the sky was on what seemed to me an ordinary road. It was in this moment that I realized I was not seeing something. My eyes had been fogged by being spoiled with beautiful towns my whole life. I was not seeing the gorgeous canvas that I was blessed to belong to. The oranges, reds, cobblestones, old bricks, trees and birds upon birds singing… the weather changing the feeling of each town on a daily basis-never expected and certainly never boring.

My love lies in the people. There is such a thing as “southern charm.” There is such a thing as going out of your way to look out for someone, to talk to someone, and to joke with them as they check out at your grocery line. In this area, humans interact, which sounds like what all people across the world should be doing, isn’t that what we’re made for? To grow not around but with one another? I appreciate talking to people I don’t know and learning about their lives. I appreciate that a lot people in the south take the finer things in life as the best things in life. I admire it because my materialism often shadows those thoughts. I often get frustrated that someone is walking too slow on the sidewalk of my small town, but I must keep in mind that they are living instead of rushing through life.

And lastly…My love lies in Home. There was a feeling I noticed as I approached the end of my trip, our last stop was my home: Lexington. It’s a lot like falling in love. Often the person who we should love the most and need to love the most is right in front of us. We tend to take them for granted until it’s too late. We tend to expect them to always be there, that we don’t realize the gifts they have provided us every day. As a senior, leaning toward my last journey before adulthood, I see home differently. I’ve always believed that home is mostly in the people around me, but living in the same house my whole life, it’s hard to not look around Lexington and feel guilty for the time loving it that I missed out on. However, one must realize that each place that touches us, touches us in a way that sticks.

I am thankful I made this trip, I am thankful that I made this trip now. Because now, before I head out I can take another look at the grass and be thankful that it is so very iridescently green. Every part of my 21 years in North Carolina has molded me into the person I have become and has changed the way I view those around me and the unique qualities that make our culture, our culture. Every time I come back I can take in that Carolina skyline, the rolling hills, the scent of the burning leaves, the vinegar in the BBQ sauce, the “how many times can this person call me sweetie?”, the door holding, the y’all speaking, and the love. All the love in one place.

And I can know that home will always be there.

No matter where I am, I’ll be “gone to Carolina in my mind”.

What We Walked Into

Posted on November 25, 2014 by mreilova

By Miranda Romano -2014

The streets outside were quiet. The farmer’s market we had expected to find was actually an empty lot, so we searched the buildings for somewhere open; some sign of life. As I stepped through the door of Sam’s Café, a dull little bell ringing behind me, I caught a glimpse of what Alice must have felt when she fell down the rabbit hole. My group and I had stumbled upon a niche in the world that was hardly ever disturbed, and we were clearly outsiders. I walked in last, behind the others, so I was protected a bit from the staring and confused eyes by the bodies of my group members. Nevertheless, I felt incredibly exposed in the middle of that tiny café. Half the people in there were wearing Sam’s Café shirts and the others clearly belonged there as much as those employees. Almost all of the red, plastic booths were empty; only two were occupied, one by a family with a small toddler and a dad with an impressive beard. Unsure of what to do, we quickly sat down at the long bar that ran the length of the room. It looked like it had been running that length since the 50s. We found out later that it actually had been. We took our pick from a menu of simple sandwiches and watched the employees construct them behind the counter. Movement in the window caught my eye and I suddenly noticed a mechanical butterfly revolving around a potted plant. A strange humming from the ceiling lights gave the butterfly an eerie feel. Its little paper wings rustled frantically as it continued its ceaseless revolution. We ate our sandwiches quietly, feigning deep interest in our food. In actuality, we were listening to the comfortable conversations between the employees and the locals at the counter and an elderly man in the back complaining about the loss of his sparkly comforter. We spent a few minutes in conversation with the owner, whom the old man in the back called Pork Chop, before heading back out into the quiet street. All the life in Siler City was held inside that little café and we couldn’t help but feel in awe over the difference between that place and our lives outside the rabbit hole.

Time Traveling in Asheboro

Posted on November 25, 2014 by mreilova

By Miranda Romano – 2014

Walking into the Antique Mall was like walking into a stranger’s grandparent’s house: if their grandparents kept everything they’d ever owned along with all the possessions of their parents and their parents’ parents. The place was built of glass cases and old wooden armoires pushed up against each other. These cases held every household object one could think of; gold earrings worn old and dull, fishing lures that had seen more lakes than any person ever has, vials for makeup and spices, lamps that burned oil and every manner of carved and lacy furniture. Probably most intriguing was the surprisingly large collection of small ceramic gnomes. We were lost for a while perusing shelves of artifacts saved from decades past. Kelley managed to find a terrifying looking handheld blade, hidden inside a stack of old records.

As we were finally forcing ourselves to find the exit, a bearded man in jeans walked down the stairs carrying a giant scythe, shouted this is mine and walked out the front door.

Preserving the Charm: Pittsboro, NC

Posted on November 25, 2014 by mreilova

By Kelley Dodge – 2014

Driving into the quaint town of Pittsboro, we immediately swerve into a parking spot outside the historic Chatham County Courthouse. The Victorian-style building, with a three-layer cupola, marks the beginning of downtown Pittsboro. Before making it to the downtown shops we stop, mesmerized by artwork on the first building of the strip. Though still under construction, there is a beautiful mosaic of flowers that has been crafted with shiny pieces of mirror. As we are admiring the artwork, two women walk by, one of whom stops to chat with us. Cindy Edwards, a Pittsboro native, tells us about the town’s priority of preserving its history, emphasizing the displays of public art, which further enhances its charm.

Our first indication of this tightly knit community is in sitting down to dinner at S & T Soda Shop, a downtown restaurant that Cindy noted as one of her favorites. Upon opening the menu, we begin reading about the history of the Soda Shop, stumbling across the restaurant’s special acknowledgement of Cindy Edwards, one of the founding proprietors. Pittsboro’s community culture shined at S & T Soda Shop, where everyone seemed to be on a first name basis with each other, frequently moving from table to table to visit friends. Though outsiders, we were warmly greeted at the door and graciously taken care of by our young, energetic waitress. Not only was the service good, but the sandwiches, burgers, and milkshakes were a perfect combo.

Leaving S & T Soda Shop we wandered to a side street to explore the Food Truck Rodeo, another event that many locals recommended. The Rodeo boasted an assortment of food and drink options spanning from the Carolina Brewing Company to sub-sandwiches, and mini donuts to Italian ice, there was certainly something for everyone. Hosted by the Pittsboro Roadhouse General Store, the Rodeo was set up in a parking lot where people gathered at tables, enjoying their Saturday evening with good friends and good food.

After exploring the Food Truck Rodeo, we wandered back to Hillsboro Street, which runs through the heart of downtown Pittsboro, and stopped into a woodshop and an art store, both of which boasted many interesting crafts.The local artisans emphasized the fact that Pittsboro prides itself on small businesses, but expressed concern for an incoming development, something that Cindy and our waitress at S&T Soda Shop had also mentioned during our conversations. This concern, we soon realized, is one that is shared by many Pittsboro natives. On four different occasions, locals brought up displeasure about a new 7,000-acre technology park currently under construction. While Pittsboro is currently home to about 5,000 residents, the new development, dubbed as a “Live-Work-Play” community is expected to bring an estimated 55,000 people to the area. Local residents, restaurants, and shopkeepers all expressed concern about this influx of people and how it might drive out small local businesses or on the contrary, stimulate too much demand. The development also poses a threat to Pittsboro’s small-town, tight-knit community atmosphere. While the project has already been approved, one thing is sure: it will be nearly impossible to ruin Pittsboro’s innate charm, because the community will fight to preserve its historic, small-town atmosphere.

Leaving Pittsboro as the sun set over the Courthouse, we were smiling ear to ear. Because we had never heard of Pittsboro before, we journeyed to the town with very low expectations. However, our preconceptions could not have been more wrong. Of all the towns we visited for the Piedmont Region of Highway 64 project, Pittsboro was easily our favorite. We were enchanted by the welcoming community, talented artisans, tasty food, and historic buildings. Just minutes away from Raleigh and Chapel Hill, this gem is a must see for anyone living in or traveling through North Carolina.

Raleigh Roots

Posted on November 25, 2014 by mreilova

By Caroline Zybala – 2014

While at the International Festival in Raleigh, NC, our group kept seeing this man, wearing some traditional ethnic attire and a hat with a large feather, walking around the convention center. We finally decided to approach him and figure out his story. We figured he would be a good character to interview for our project. Quickly, we discovered that this individual was a wealth of information about Highway 64 and the evolution of North Carolina over the years. Alvin M. Fountain, 2nd, (“How southern can I be?”), lives in Raleigh, North Carolina and grew up with Highway 64 being an important travel route.

“We used Highway 64 to get to the beach. I mean, it goes to both the beach and the mountains, but the trip to the beach is only two hours, compared to the four hours to the mountains.” But travel was not the only use of this road—Fountain also used the road to travel south to Charlotte on occasion. Looking around at the bustling crowd, he lowered his voice and said, “I like it because it is quieter. Until you hit the traffic!”

We all laughed, and then we changed topics to figure out what had prompted the outfit. “I am actually here with the Polish group. I am the Honorary Consul of the Republic of Poland for North Carolina. But, I am not Polish. I am your typical southern, white, Anglo-Saxton Protestant. But I studied German in high school and got really interested in the cultures over there.” Referring to his hat, he explained it was created by local, elderly Polish-American ladies, who bought the materials themselves. “This is a traditional Polish hat. They made it back in 1986 for the opening for the International Festival. I was there for that. I’ve actually been to the festival every year. Well, in 2010, I did miss the festival proper, but I helped set it up, so I count it. My wife had her 50th high school reunion.”

At this point in the conversation, Alvin tried to think of other things to tell us about Highway 64 and North Carolina history. He explained how his family had been in North Carolina for over 300 years, and he could remember back to 1949, when North Carolina was very different. “There were almost no Catholics in North Carolina when I was growing up. When Kennedy was running for president, they were looking at the breakdown of Catholics in each of the states. North Carolina actually had the smallest percentage. But now, things have really changed. Right by Siler City, there is a giant Catholic church that looks like it could be right out of Mexico.”

When prompted to explain why this changed happened, Alvin responded, “Culturally, the state of North Carolina has changed greatly. When I was growing up, everyone was a WASP.” He quickly explained the acronym (White Anglo-Saxton Protestant) because we all must have shown some real confusion in our expressions. “The other group of people was what I like to call BAAP—Black African American Protestant.”

“But now, we have so many other people in the state, like people in the Polish club. The Research Triangle Park is really influenced this change. When companies moved down here, it would really shake up the whole Triangle. A big one was IBM, which brought people from the upper Midwest and upstate New York. Overall, Raleigh has really grown.”

We asked him for his final thoughts on Highway 64 in regards to his life, and he thought for a moment. Squinting his eyes, he said, “64 is really a sort of central road. It can be a connecting route if you want to make your trip worthwhile and get to point A to point B. The road can take you east to the zoo, and to Rocky Mount—that is where my mother grew up. Or you can head west, and the road splits at Zebulon. There are parts when it turns into single lanes, and the traffic really slows down. Then you reach the coast and Kill Devil Hills.”

After talking briefly about the project we were completing, we were able to takea picture with Alvin. I mean, it’s not everyday you get to meet a WASP, Polish Honorary Consul!