Last week's column was on a relatively unknown Iredell County botanist, Mordecai Elisha Hyams.
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Mordecai Elisha Hyams (1819-1891) called Statesville home, but he is better known in scientific circles than locally, which is a shame; he was an interesting man.
The April 24 edition of the R&L carried the obituary of North Carolina writer and Statesville native Doris Waugh Betts, who died in Pittsboro at age 79.
A movie showing in Statesville may tickle your funny bone.
I’ve been trying not to think about the big party some Secret Service boys allegedly threw with the local prostitutes in Cartagena, Colombia, and instead think about the future of American Chinchilla farming or the environment.
I’m eating a burrito at a local Mexican restaurant and discussing the blight of North Carolina politics when a waiter I’m not familiar with comes up to me and in broken English says I owe him $18.76 for a taco salad.
Once upon a time there were gristmills all over the county, all over the piedmont, for that matter.
It’s spring and life is cheerful, though one must accept certain grim realities like mortality, paper cuts and the demise of our local Sears store.
Mrs. John Smyre Deal was another Ebenezer alumni who left a recollection of days spent at the school, which had formerly been a private academy.
If you’re planning to throw your golf clubs in the car and head out for a round of 18 holes, it may not mean much to you that April is Poetry Month.
In the fall of 1968 there was a revival of interest in the old academy, which was clearly in need of repair.
One of the longest-standing buildings in Iredell County can be seen just off Highway 21 North near Bethany Presbyterian Church: the Ebenezer Academy Building.
Our story opens with President Obama sitting in the Oval Office with his feet propped on his desk, hands clasped behind his head, looking at his advisers and asking the question Disney’s Bambi asked his mother: “So, what’re we gonna do today?”
The Vernal Equinox arrived last Tuesday, the 20th of March. In case you've forgotten, that's the fancy name for the first day of spring.
This morning I became a hero. I heard my wife scream; the blood-curdling sound you hear when the tall vampire raises his black cape to embrace the bare-shouldered woman while lowering his fangs to her milky white neck.
Cindy Jacobs’ third book on local history should find a good reception in Mooresville and South Iredell.
My wife is a teacher, an elementary grade educator; her boots are the first to hit the ground in America’s offensive to educate its young.
If you had been caught with a copy of his book in the South before the Civil War, you could have been lashed with a bull whip. In fact, you would have been lucky if that's all that was done to you. Circulating the book was considered a felony and could get you a year in jail and a public whipping. A second offense could carry a death sentence.
You go to high school reunions not to see old friends as much as to see what our teenage selves became as reflected back in the eyes of those who knew us when.
A century or more ago, the Statesville Landmark and the Mooresville Enterprise, predecessor of today's Mooresville Tribune, frequently printed obituaries for respected black members of the county who had been slaves.
When someone says "pioneer," we usually think of people crossing the Great Plains as part of a wagon train, or folks following someone like Daniel Boone through the Cumberland Gap. Of course we also use "pioneer" to describe anyone making discoveries or advancements, such as the Wright Brothers, "Pioneers in Flight," or Thomas Edison, "Pioneer in Electricity."
Recently, I had the privilege of spending a couple of hours with our newest city councilman, Mr. Roy West, who is known for his quick humor, business savvy -- and having a passion for cycling, which is why his stomach is flat. My stomach is round, like a planet … with its own gravity field … and I think last night I attracted a moon. You can understand my concern.
I grew up on a tobacco farm in eastern North Carolina and before we became middles class (those people that used a piece of aluminum foil only one time) I realized we were poor. It was my mother’s Sunbeam mixer that gave me my first clue.
In this column two week ago I briefly recounted the story of legendary baseball player Joseph Jefferson "Shoeless Joe" Jackson (1887-1951), a native of Greenville, S.C., and his career as a player in America's national pastime.
January is a month for reflection. We are forced indoors to live closer to each other, so we put away sharp objects and re-evaluate our relationships.
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