By Clyde

“Let them be before the Lord continually that he may cut off the memory of them from the earth” (Psalm 109:15).

You know, ol’ what’s his name? No, not Ray Coggins. You know, he lived over there past where ever. Did he fall off the face of the earth? What’s the name of that road? And he was a whatchamacallit, that made those thingamajigs you could use to fix those doflochies. You know, you don’t see him around town anymore. Did he die? He married ol’ what’s her face, remember her? Is she still living? Did their kids ever amount to anything? Seems like only yesterday. You know that Joe Helig Passed? His bench is empty.

Buck Lineberger could be seen most late afternoons pedaling down the Bringle Ferry Road. Did he “bite the dust?” Where is Beulah, from New York, who could carry a watermelon on her head? Did she move back? “Just plant a little watermelon at the foot of my grave and let the juice drip though.”  

Are you old enough to have seen Ol’ Shep scale the Grubb building or stand on his head on the Empire Hotel flagpole? Were you alive to buy Cloverine Salve from Ollie Cagel downtown? Where is the stool that Charlie Tripp made with no arms? Where is the wedding dress for Mayor and Ms. Mertz, midgets from the Sparks Circus? How did Molly and Jimmy Wrenn come to live in the Wrenn House that bears their name?

Did you eat Sunday lunch at the Yadkin Hotel with Pete Wallenborn’s “Salisbury is the Place” sign? Who really was Joe Ballard, really? Betty Dan was always afraid of Lord Salisbury, giving out shiny dimes to little girls from a miniature chamber pot.

Did you ever sit in St. Luke’s and look at the names in the stained glass windows of people who lived over 100 years ago before the Civil War? They never knew their names would end up on tomb stones in the Lutheran Cemetery. Capt. Fisher is there. Ron Hagwood, the priest, is in the churchyard, gone, but not forgotten. Griffith Rutherfordton, the best Indian fighter ever, had a state archives highway marker that is now mysteriously missing. They are all long dead and gone of sight, out of mind. “The memory of the just is blessed but the name of the wicked shall rot” (Proverbs 10:7).

The names of literally millions of descendants must be in the McCubbins files at the RPL. Go find yo’ self. Don’t look too deep in the files, there may be black sheep. More recently, the list of people who you thought “would always be here” and you could always count on a floating glimpse if not a “sight for sore eyes.”

Did you ever talk to Nookie Barnhardt who painted signs in the curve on Old 20? He wintered in Florida and liked to take a drink or two. Mack McKay lived under the water tower in Landis and write stories about Wampus cats that made pictures for Carl Spencer from Spencer to draw for the Odd Facts box in the Salisbury Post. The Starnes sisters, on the backwaters near Goat Island were definitely an anacronym. Spence Torrence lived with his sister Julia, near Millbridge, and could fix anything or at least try to. On down Millbridge Road in a big white house, back off the road, three single brothers lived together. They each had their own jar of peanut butter. Mayor Sifford in Faith had live alligators. Fred Bostain campaigned with a live buffalo in a side rail track in the Chinaberry Grove.

Miss Mandy Kluttz was quite a sight if you were not a target for her guns. Near Bear Poplar, Carl London called “son” had a stage coach and a rodeo and a sister called “Sister.” The late Walt McCanless Race Track was famous all over the state and was considered for the motor speedway site.

Who knows Aubrey Atkinson, along with Clara and Sam Childs, started the Rowan Art Guild, now Carolina Artists Guild? Dan Nicholas must have been the most dapper entrepreneur. Down in Faith, Bryce Ludwig put the town on the map with his granite sculptures. Watch out for Thorny Birdsong coming through F&M. Ironically, Bob Jones was selling lightning rods while being the Grand Dragon. Suzanne Blackmer deserves a whole page in the story.

Notables like Clint Cheney, Leon Williams, Billy Ray Pless, Clarence Jones, Edward Suggs, Raymond Pharr and Wild Bill all made their mark in our minds. Are they still with us?  Some are! Where are their tablets, monuments, statues, plaques, a sculpture that can be moved? Can we name a street or a rose garden after them? How many mayors or college presidents or past preachers in your church can you name? Do we pray for them? “For who knoweth what is good for man in this life, all the days of his vain life which he spendeth as a shadow, for who can tell a man what shall be after him under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 6:12).

So, make a big footprint, write a book, get on the map, make what’s-his-name famous. It’s a cryin’ shame to let them be forgotten. “I saw them just last week and they looked fine to me. They went downhill real fast.” Vita brevis.

Just coasting on the zip line of life. Don’t forget us. Wheee!

Clyde is a Salisbury artist.