A Visit to my Daughter’s

        My wife and I helped my daughter move not long ago.  After we got the power back on we spent a night with her.

        In some ways it is sad, ’cause she sure is all grown up now. When I took a shower I kinda figured there’d be some ‘Johnson’s Baby Shampoo,’ but it wasn’t to be.  I didn’t have on my reading glasses, so I’m not exactly sure, but instead I think the bottle read ‘Cinammon Honey Essence of Extract’ or something like that.  Later in the day, after unloading the last of the boxes, I smelled more like myself again.

         Not everything had changed, though.  Her mom (my wife) had just downloaded our Doc Watson collection to IPOD, and she wanted to hear ‘Summertime.’  The child has had good taste in music from infancy.  “Summertime, when the living’s easy….catfish jumping…”  No one does it better than Doc.  

       She knew where to take us to eat too.  It was Soul Shack Mama’s for breakfast.  That’s the best spot in the Tobacco Triangle.  You’ll know it is the right place when you walk in; the walls are old wormy chestnut wood like what you can’t find anymore.  There’s a wrap around porch, so you can eat outside if you want.

        “Catfish and eggs, Doc?”

        “Yes ma’am.  How’d you know?”

        “Honey, you just look like a catfish man.”  I think she remembered me from our last visit.  It was catfish ‘n eggs, grits ‘n gravy, biscuits, sopping ‘lasses; endless coffee and fresh OJ.  Very fine.  When we finished we all split a bread pudding topped with whipped cream.  I kept using Marie’s spoon; she finally gave up and let me finish it.  I bought her and her mama a York Peppermint Patty at the counter and that made up for it.  Here’s a southern secret.  You can trust a woman who has both dessert and chocolate for breakfast. 

        On the way back to the house, she pointed out a small frame house. ‘Chapel Hill Violin Shop.’

       “You know whose place that is, Daddy?”

        “Dunno.  Who’s that?”

        “That’s Parson Bob’s daughter’s business.”

        “Son of a gun, Miss Marie if you aren’t the most well connected young’un in the history of the world.  We gotta go there next time I’m in town on a weekday.”

       “We’ll do it, Daddy.”

        “Child, you find all the best places and all the best people.  Where’d you learn to do that?”

        “Dunno, Daddy.  Dunno.”

Dr. B

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12 Comments on “A Visit to my Daughter’s”

  1. Julius Says:

    I miss Chapel Hill. Hopefully I’ll be able to get back there some day soon, and who knows, may run into your daughter, Doc!

  2. PiedType Says:

    O lordy, that sounds like a fine breakfast!

    • drtombibey Says:


      Lordy it was good. My cholesterol is O.K., but if it wasn’t I figure they’ve got medicine for that.

      Dr. B

  3. Danny Fulks Says:

    Tom, When my older child moved to Columbus, Ohio severall years ago, the first time we visited she showed us around her apartment and in the back she said, “I has a nice ravine back here.” I said, “Candy, you never heard that word in your life untill you moved up North. That is a big ditch.” What Candy did was follow the old rule “when in Rome do as the Romans do.” She soon added a second language to her Appalachian vocabulary, Northernese. She, her husband, three kids now live in Columbus, Indiana, near Bean Blossom and she goes there with me. Lives in a big house, no ravine. But Southern Indiana is about as counry as here in Southern West Virginia.

  4. drtombibey Says:

    Dr. Fulks,

    Dang it is hard for me to call you Dan.

    Yeah, my daughter is in the Chapel Hill area, and I think they’d call it a ravine too.

    I am working on a post for tomorrow called ‘College Prep.’ It is dedicated to you and one of my young readers, msslightly, who is getting ready to start college. I hope you two will weigh in on it.

    You asked me to write something about my youth, so I am pretty far removed from the subject matter of tomorrow’s post.

    Dr. B

  5. Cindy Carter Says:

    Doc…Don’t you know that your daughter must be a chip off the block… We Southerners don’t often meet strangers. We meet people who act strange and who “aint from these parts”. But, as you know, that is different from being a stranger. By just smiling, and saying thank you, or please, I have met some of the nicest people. It’s what the youngns call networking….LOL

    • drtombibey Says:

      Ms. Cindy,

      Yeah around here folks say, “Where are you from?”

      They’ll say, “Greensboro.”

      “Oh do you know any of the Robinsons over there?”

      “The car dealer?”

      “Oh, no. The one who owned the old movie theater.”

      “Oh yeah, I went there as a kid, and ….”

      And so it goes in the South.

      Dr. B

  6. Parson Bob Says:

    You two sure get around to some mighty fine places, Doc; first the soul shack and then the violin shop. That Chapel Hill Violin Shop not only has violins, it also has fiddles, if you catch my drift. Jennifer and Nowell are really savvy about the music scene, and I know they’ll enjoy a visit from Marie. You, too, Doc, and I know Nowell would be proud to back you up with some great banjo licks.

    • drtombibey Says:

      Parson Bob,

      Bluegrass has always led me to all the best people.

      One of these days I am going to be there when the violin/fiddle shop is open. When a fellow walks in carrying a mandolin case who has on a straw hat, and has one green eye and one blue one, they’ll know it is me.

      Someone told me I was in Tennessee today, but I promise I wasn’t. It must have been a case of mistaken identity.

      Dr. B

  7. PiedType Says:

    I don’t want to overstay my welcome, but after reading above about ravines and ditches, I have to ask if you folks have gullies. Seems like that’s mostly what we had in Oklahoma. (Can’t have gullywashers without gullies.)

    • drtombibey Says:


      Shoot fire this is the South and you’re welcome right here on the front porch any time. I bet Oklahoma is the same way.

      Yeah we got gullies too. You’re right; there can’t be a gully washer without a gully. All true.

      Dr. B

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