Exploring what's possible with punctuation.
Cliff and Millie were married on Saturday, October 24, 2009 at the chapel at The Cliffs. The Cliffs is an beautiful residential community situated atop a 3,000-foot plateau on the side of Glassy Mountain in northern Greenville County, South Carolina and the chapel sits alone at the very top. The view from there is breath-taking. The wedding and reception later at the club house were simple yet elegant. It was a beautiful and happy occasion.
If you have ever driven down Highway 501 on the way to Myrtle Beach, you have probably seen the signs advertising Sparky’s near Marion, SC. The signs appear every few hundred feet for ten miles or so as you approach from either direction. The thing that caught my eye the other day is the proclamation on some of these signs that “Sparky’s Got It All.”
Something about that bothered me. See, Sparky’s is the name of the place, so “Sparky’s Got It All” just didn’t sound right. I wasn’t sure whether that meant that Sparky’s (Has) Got It All or that Sparky’s Has Acquired It All. In all fairness I assume and am reasonably confident that the saying “Sparky’s Got It All” simply means that there is an entity called Sparky and he/she has a lot of stuff and that the writer of the ad is not too concerned with precise grammar. I decided that the next time I went by there I would stop and see if Sparky’s had or had acquired it all.
Here’s what I discovered:
Anyway, here’s some of the stuff that Sparky’s has:
Here’s some of the stuff Sparky’s doesn’t have:
Well, there you have it. Next time you’re down that way stop in and check it out. You might even see Sparky.
I remember first hearing this song back in 1968 and thinking it was one of the neatest songs I had ever heard; it still is. This video is very entertaining, too, and epitomizes the stylized videos of the era. Worth a watch.
And here are the lyrics:
We skipped the light fandango
turned cartwheels ‘cross the floor
I was feeling kinda seasick
but the crowd called out for more
The room was humming harder
as the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drink
the waiter brought a tray.And so it was that later
as the miller told his tale
that her face, at first just ghostly,
turned a whiter shade of pale.She said, ‘There is no reason
and the truth is plain to see’
But I wandered through my playing cards
and would not let her be
one of sixteen vestal virgins
who were leaving for the coast
and although my eyes were open
they might have just as well’ve been closed.
I move through a world of light and shadow; of breezes scented by wet oak leaves and pine; of forgotten roads and lost highways; of deserted buildings and towns with no names.
I dwell on a road leading down to the sea, in a yellow cottage with white trim. A walk leads up from the road, through a gate and to the front door. Tall grass waves in the summer breeze and girls in cotton dresses bend over to pick the wild flowers.
I haunt disused pastures and shady country lanes. I walk beside old fences and rest in sun-dappled spots of shade and feel the stillness of midday in a quiet, lonely spot.
I walk down lonely roads and empty city streets; see faces unknown but strangely familiar, never stopping to speak, moving on.
I commune with ghosts and spirits of loved ones passed as if I were in their world or they in mine.
I visit here fleetingly in dreams but once I may never come back.
I have a magic box. It is made of wood and strung with string. It was made by an old man in the hills above Barcelona. There’s music in there; all the music of the ages. Last night I was able to call it forth.
At times such as that I just hold it and stroke the strings gently; the music comes out, aided only slightly by my fingers. I know the magic is in there always but most times I’m afraid; afraid that my clumsy attempts will only cause it to hide deeper within the wood and strings.
But late last night, in a moment of quiet solitude, I surrendered. I forgot myself and my inadequacies and was able to conjure up the right spell to bring the music out and it came and enveloped me. My body and mind felt renewed and refreshed.
I slept better because of it.
Trying out another photo viewer plugin. This one is the NextGen gallery by Alex Rabe. If anyone happens to visit please let me know if the pictures make the page slow to load. Thanks.
The pictures were taken around where I live in a part of Chester County, SC known as Armenia.
20 Photos
This is late news but it’s worth mentioning: the Sanford (NC) Pottery Festival was held on May 2 and 3. This event started in 2002 and has now become the largest pottery festival in NC. If you missed it this year (as I did) then try to make it next. You won’t be disappointed.
In a state known for pottery, Sanford and the surrounding area is probably the richest place in the world for this art form. I would hazard a guess that there are more potteries in and around Sanford, NC than anywhere else in the world.
And more than that, there are artists of all kinds living and working in this area. Painters, sculptors, wood-workers, musicians, jewelry makers, poets and writers all seem to be drawn to this area in central North Carolina. Maybe it’s the beautiful countryside with its gently rolling hills and deep rivers that attracts and then sustains these creative spirits; maybe it’s something in the water. Whatever it is, this place has a spirit and a charm all its own.
Go visit when you can but be forewarned: you may not want to leave.
For more information visit SandfordPottery.org and the Chatham Artist’s Guild web site.
