And Then There Were Three...

Earlier this week, I was overjoyed to interrupt my workday, by having coffee with a dear friend of mine, from Morganton. We met at a coffee shop in Biltmore, at the entrance to the world famous Biltmore House. We sat and exchanged pleasantries, and the latest "goings on" of family and friends, and mutual acquaintances.


As I looked over the unfamiliar landscape, that used to be Biltmore. My friend told me how much her Dad hated what had happened to Biltmore. You see, she had taken her Dad through Biltmore recently for Doctor's care....perhaps the first time he'd seen Biltmore in ages. I'm sure he was shocked and dismayed.... But Paula didn't understand. Her reaction was, "Why didn't you do something about it?"


Now I'm a huge fan of the annalogy of the frog being comfortable in water that is gradually elevated to boing point, and surviving, verses the frog that is thrown into a pot of boilig water, and instantly meeting his demise. So I can fully understand Paula's dad's reaction. He was thrown into the pot of boiling water, while I languished in the luke warm pool of oblivion.

Biltmore had "grown up." And I hadn't been there.....




You'd have to have lived here, "Back in the day," to understand.


There was a time when Biltmore was a community... not a side show to the Biltmore House, but an intregal part of its being. Anything you could imagine in Norman Rockwell's romanticized version of America, actually exisited in the little underclassed village of Biltmore, NC.


Within walking distance, you could satisfy every basic human need, and then again, a few pleasures, if you could afford them.


I'll go into the details of life in Biltmore at a later date...It may take a few writings.


But tonight, I understand Paula's Dad's disdain for the erruption of development, and commercialism in the dismal wonderland in which I grew up.


This year, the Hot Shot closed its doors... forever. Damn....


Next door, the shoe repair shop, was resurrected, and turned into a trendy gift shop.


What's next?


As I take inventory over the village I used to be embarrassed by, but now embrace as my own, who is left???


Its the bastions of Biltmore, the Discount Tire Barn, Biltmore Wheel and Alignment... where Roy Cole still remembers to ask, "How's Yvonne (my Mom,) and the Biltmore Barber Shop... where my Dad took me and my brothers for our first "flat top," complete with Butch Paste in our back pockets... (I can still hear my Mom screaming at Dad about cutting off her little boys' locks.)


I do still frequent two out of the three of these places...Just to see all the familiar faces.


Obviously, I don't frequent the barber shop...


But maybe Monday... a professional shave might be in order....


And so, there stands three survivors...


But its just a matter of time until they're swallowed up by bleached blonde leopard skinned shoppers in five inche stilettoes... shopping the quaint shops of Biltmore....

Chicos?????????

Give me a Break!!!!

And as always... QRML.............. K