Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by —
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner’s seat,
Or hurl the cynic’s ban —
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
--Poem: The House by the Side of the Road by Sam Walter Foss
This seems to be the way of life for many up here, people with generous spirits and open hearts and homes. Mamie sells eggs to draw people to her house. Jack will stop anything he’s doing to set on the porch with all who call on him. Deborah and Charlie entertain hundreds of guests every month, and still have time to offer a rocker on their porch to any who may stop by. Josie and Adam draw friends like honey draws flies.
Neither Josie nor Adam will ever get old because they both have endless curiosity about everything around them. Adam loves to collect stories of people’s adventures and share stories of his own actions in the military and his new life as a cop. Josie loves to share her artistic adventures with whoever wishes to partake. I recently accompanied Josie to a meeting where at least three of the attendees were wearing items of wearable art created by Josie Mott.
Josie and her jeep can be spotted all over the back roads of our neck of the woods. She has a keen eye for photography, creates fabulous textile art, and still makes time to keep a clean cabin and make delicious winter soups.
Adam is always involved in something in the community, such as playing McGruff for the Coker Creek School’s drug awareness and safety program, or riding with police officers assigned to Christmas duty -- just to act as morale officer to them. How lucky we are to have been chosen as their friends.
We were invited to join them for the Christmas Cantata at their church, with a light supper at their home to precede the trip. Josie outdid herself with the vegetable beef soup. I’d be hard pressed to name a vegetable that she didn’t have in that pot. She also served homemade cornbread and melt-in-your-mouth biscuits, accompanied by chunky apple-pear sauce she had whipped up. All of this was served in the surroundings of their pine palace on the side of the road.
Richard and I passed on the Christmas Cantata because we don’t know how to behave in holy places. He gets me giggling, and then all eyes are on me. I’m already in danger of being burned at the stake, so I don’t want to take any chances.