Tidbits - February 7 2019



  Many parts of a church service can become routine, but when things change it throws you off.
  At Emory, we have been taking Communion by the intinction  method for nearly  30 years. Our administrative council, however, voted to go back to using the old method of individual little cups the first of the year.
  We didn’t think about the young people in our church, 25 or younger,  had never taken Communion that way.
  They didn’t know what to do. One little boy got his bread and his cup and dipped his bread in the cup. It looked like a little ice cream cone.
  Last Thursday, Communion was served at Grace Spainhour’s funeral in North Myrtle Beach, and I became like the young people at Emory a few weeks ago. I had to learn a new method.
  I’ve taken Communion at a Lutheran Church before, but this one was a little different. The family went first at the funeral, and I took that time to try to figure out what was going on.
  They had four people serving, and I could not figure it out.
  It was not until I knelt at the altar that I realized what was going on. The pastor put the bread in my hand, then another lady allowed me to take an empty cup out of the tray, followed by another lady who poured the wine into the tiny cup from a pitcher with a tiny spout, followed by another lady who carried another tray to put the empty cup.
  I was most impressed with the lady that poured, because I would have spilled wine on the hands and sleeves of everybody taking Communion.
  Sunday was Communion day at Emory again and everybody would be ready for a new method .... except there was no heat in the sanctuary.
  The Sunday School class that meets in the sanctuary said they about froze to death during class and couldn’t take it any longer. So, we hastily turned the social hall into a sanctuary. The Communion routine was changed again.
  Churches had cupholders decades before cars did, but we didn’t have any in the social hall.
  So, Communion was served near the left door leading to the kitchen, and members after taking Communion walked into the kitchen, put their cups on the counter, and walked out the right door.
  We’ll start the routine thing next month!


  I have never been to the beach in January, and it was a learning experience when I attended Grace Spaihour’s funeral.
  I went down Wednesday afternoon and got a hotel room, so I wouldn’t have to get up early Thursday to attend the 11 a.m. service.
  The first thing I noticed was all the cotton fields along the way in the Pee Dee.
  The next thing I noticed was all the water.
  If you drive over the long Pee Dee River bridge in the summer, the only water you see the river itself.
  Wednesday, there was water the entire length of the bridge. All the ditches along the sides of the road were water filled as well. This helped me understand how that area flooded after the hurricane.
  When I arrived at the beach, my car’s thermometer said it was 45 degrees, and the wind was gusting.
  Walking on the beach had a “felt like” temperature of 25 degrees, but I had to walk, with a heavy coat, ear muffs and gloves!
  Before I left for the walk, I went out on the balcony briefly. When I decided to go back into the room, the door was stuck!
  “Oh, no! They are going to find me frozen to death on the balcony!”
  I knew I could find the hotel number with my phone, but I didn’t need to call, because I shook the door loose, finally. I never closed that door again when I went on the balcony.
  That night I had supper with my nephews and nieces, Trey Shealy, Erin, Ryan, Skylar and Kassidy Coleman, at Duffy’s, about a block from their mother Donna’s home.
  In all the years I’ve gone to Cherry Grove, I had never eaten there. I got the shrimp and grits and it was great.
  Eating at the beach reminded of a time I was at Grace’s house, and smelled the wonderful aroma of chicken and rice on the stove.
  “Is this for supper?” I asked Jamie.
  “No,” he said. “That’s for the dog.”
  Sure enough, Grace fed her much beloved dog chicken and rice every night for supper.
  Grace’s funeral was filled with remembrances and laughter.
  The songs included “It is Well with My Soul,” “How Great Thou Art,” “Precious Lord, Take my Hand,”  and the “Old Rugged Cross.”
 According to her pastor, however, there was song Grace absolutely forbad being sung at her funeral ... “Amazing Grace!”


  Congratulations to Saluda High Assistant Athletic Director and football offensive coordinator Brent Wilder for being named the new head football coach at his alma mater, Swansea High, another school with purple tigers.
  Saluda High will miss Brent. He has coached several different sports, and has done an excellent job as an English teacher and assistant A.D.
  His wife, Jeanette, Saluda High’s athletic director and girls basketball coach, will remain at her alma mater.
  Brent’s offenses have been record breakers at Saluda High the last four years, when the Tigers have gone 42-12, played in three upperstate championship games, and made it to the third round this year.
  I wish him well.

  As I’m writing this, I have seen several commercials for “On the Case, with Paula Zahn.”
  That program has always bothered me, because I have never seen  Paula and the persons she is interviewing filmed together.
  You have Paula in one shot, the person being interviewed in the next, and the same background, but they are never together.
  I finally looked it up.
  Paula does not interview the people face to face. Members of her staff go to the site,  ask the questions and film the answers.
  Paula, then, gets filmed asking the questions and the answers are spliced in.
  I’m sure others viewers have questioned this.
  In the commercial for the new season, Paula is shown shaking hands with a person she is about to interview and sitting in a nearby chair.
  We’ll see!


  There will never be another Rudolph Mitchell.
  In this day, no one has the time and energy to do all the things he did.
  We all know Rudolph served us as Saluda County’s member of the House of Representatives, and as a member and chairman of the S.C. Public Service Commission, but he also was a dairy farmer and community leader.
  There are many people who hold elected office and other full-time jobs, but what distinguishes Rudolph Mitchell is what he didn’t have to do.
  For 50 years, he and his friend Holly Price gave up their time to entertain thousands for just gas money.
  I’ve known Rudolph Mitchell all my life, because of “The Ivory Keys.” How many times did they play at my church and the Emory School? How many times did I hear them play at the Saluda High Annex or the Saluda Theater?
  Two men with hard, full-time jobs, gave up their free time for others. Many of their performances were to help organizations raise funds for projects.
  After Mr. Holly died, Rudolph would give solo performances. He put on the “Saluda Opry” at the Theater to raise money for the Historical Society, He was the backbone and a founder of the Saluda Pull-it Festival, and  he had the pull to get top state politicians to visit here.
  His children Randy and Molly followed him into public service.
  Randy, after serving on County Council and as Saluda County’s Judge of Probate, became a member of the Public Service Commission, just like his father.
  Sadly, Randy died tragically in a farm accident a few years ago.
  Molly Spearman, a wonderful musician like her father, followed Rudolph’s example and became a member of the S.C. House of Representatives. Of course, we all know she is now S.C.’s Superintendent of Education.
  Even his grandchildren learned from him. For example, when I saw Molly’s son Mitchell working a festival crowd when he was nine-years-old, I told him he’d be President of the United States by the time he was 35.
  Well, Mitchell is now past 35 and is not in the White House, but he flies all over the world promoting the University of Texas, which is a much better job than President!
  I could go on an on about Rudolph Mitchell, but I don’t have to. If you’ve lived in Saluda County for any length of time, you can tell your own stories.
  Saluda County will greatly miss Rudolph Mitchell. He was truly one of a kind.