Tag: Roanoke

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Travelling Shoulders

Knoth's Barbecue

Knoth’s Amazing Barbecue Followed Me Around the South

It was always there. On the 4th of July, Memorial Day, family reunions—even Thanksgiving and Christmas. We had other food on those occasions, but a genuine hickory-smoked shoulder from Knoth’s was the prized chunk of goodness on the table. The one that made us go “ah.”

Pork Barbecue Sandwich
Pork Barbecue Sandwich

We eagerly gathered around when it was brought in—still wrapped in the white butcher’s paper—hot from the pit. We stood smiling with buns open on our plates. It’s no exaggeration to say we salivated as the paper was unwrapped, finally revealing the crusty brown skin and that Heavenly aroma.

Some wanted a fatty part, some wanted crispy crust, and some only lean. I wanted some of it all. I would grab the tongs and tear off a tender piece of moist pink, then stick some crispy skin and hot fatty parts on top. Drench it all over with half mild sauce and half hot. Mmm, unbeatable.

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Too Many Words?

Decades of Journals

Stack of journals
Stack of journals

I had a journalism teacher in high school named Jean Williams, who designated me an editor of our high school newspaper. We got along famously, and I continued to visit Ms.Williams for many years after graduation. On one of those visits she advised me to begin keeping a journal. She said, “It’s our nature that we forget some things, and remember others wrongly. You will thank me one day.” Unfortunately, she did not live long enough for me to thank her, but as I sit here–over three million words later–I am truly grateful that I took her advice.

I began my first journal 34 years ago, and have kept one each year since. I was living in Roanoke, Virginia in 1979, and bought my first blank journal at Roanoke Stationery downtown. It was one of those old shops with high stamped tin ceilings and creaking wooden floors. Dimly lit shelves were lined top to bottom with stationery, pens, tablets–all manner of writing implements. It smelled like the first day of school–like ink and fresh paper. Two old gentlemen approached–each with long white whiskers, looking like they stepped out of the 1800’s–and quietly asked if they could be of assistance. I told them I wanted a journal and they directed me immediately to a variety of them, some of which had the upcoming year embossed on their covers. Continue reading “Too Many Words?”

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When My Boss Was Murdered

Sometimes the unthinkable becomes reality and murder touches our lives.  It can hit us so unexpectedly that it’s like a sucker punch knocking us breathless. Such was the case with me in Roanoke, Virginia, in the wee cold hours of January 3, 1986.

When the phone rang at 4 a.m. that Friday morning I fumbled for it, still half asleep.  For a second I didn’t recognize the sobbing sounds coming from my boss’ secretary, Carolyn, on the other end of the line.  I had never heard her cry. She had always been such a cheerful person.  Then she stopped sobbing long enough to speak. “Wade, Tony is dead.” Continue reading “When My Boss Was Murdered”