No’Ala Huntsville, September/October 2015

Whistlestop’s bbq warriors | sugar gets some good news | sweating it out in the valley

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4 » September/October

24

features

Chicken Confi dential

No’Ala Huntsville investigates a huge chicken conspiracy that might just be taking place in your neighborhood.

by allen tomlinsonphotos by abraham roweand patrick hood

Cover photo by Patrick Hood

40Dynamic Duo

Terrance Brown and Tiff any Bostic-Brown have a story to sing.

by allen tomlinsonphotos by shannon wells and patrick hood

48Sugar’s Sweet Secret

Finally, sugar gets some “powerfully” good press.

by allen tomlinsonphotos by patrick hood

56Sweating It Out

Fitness gets its own makeover with these creative exercise gurus.

by sara wright covingtonphotos by patrick hood

14In the Pits

Th e best of the best duke it out at WhisteStop’s Rocket City BBQ competition.

by sara wright covingtonphotos by patrick hood and ben hood

CAN YOU KEEP A SECRET?

In this issue, we take a stab at investigative journalism and explore the

seedy underworld of chickens living inside the city limits. Th ese seem-

ingly innocent birds are quietly roosting in your neighbors’ backyards,

laying their delicious eggs, ridding their yards of pesky mosquitoes and

house fl ies, and generally just looking adorable. But it’s

illegal—harboring chickens inside the city limits is not

allowed, although, to our city’s credit, it’s not high on

the Crimestoppers list. We took our lives into our own

hands and visited several families who just might have a

few hens in the yard and who just might bribe the neigh-

bors with eggs to help keep their secrets. We learned a

lot about the ins and outs of chicken coopery, and hope

our elected offi cials will take another look at whether this

activity should be decriminalized. It was fun; we hope

you enjoy it, too.

It’s fall, and that means it’s harvest time. For that reason, much of this

issue is devoted to food and exercise. Food appears in the form of the

WhistleStop Rocket City BBQ competition; then, after you’ve eaten until

you want to pop, we introduce you to some fi tness coaches who can work

it right off of you. And sugar, that much-reviled ingredient that helps

make our clothes a little tighter, is actually not a bad thing at all, according

to one Huntsville research and development fi rm who uses it to charge

cell phones, among other things. Fascinating!

One of the most popular issues we do here at No’Ala Huntsville is our

“Heart and Soul” issue, in which we spotlight people in the Valley who

are quietly doing great things to make this such a wonderful place to live.

Got a person we should know about? Space in this issue is limited—there

are lots more people doing good things than we would ever have room

for—but we don’t know everyone, and we need your input. Please send

names and a brief description of the work this person is doing to allen@

noalastudios.com. Th e issue will debut in the spring, but please do this

while it’s on your mind!

Football, beautiful weather, and the smell of good cooking are all in the

air. Before you run off to the Big Game, make sure you stop by a local

retailer to get everything you need. After all, if we support our local re-

tailers, we’ll continue to have a wonderful selection of great things here

in the Valley. Th at’s a secret we don’t need to keep!

5 » editor’s letter « Allen Tomlinson

no’ala huntsvilleadvisory board

Osie Adelfang

ARC Design-Build, Inc.

Lynne Berry

HudsonAlpha Institute for Biotechnology

Sarah Brewer

Click Photo Designs by Sarah Brewer

Kimberly Casey

Lowe Mill Arts & Entertainment

Donna Castellano

Historic Huntsville Foundation

Aissa Castillo

aislerchic.com

Dan Halcomb

Huntsville Symphony Orchestra

Lauren McCaul

deptofagraculture.com

Guy McClure, Jr.

Athens State University

Tom Patterson

knowhuntsville.com

Dr. Holly Powe

Calhoun Community College

Olivia Reed

Olivia Reed Photography

Patrick Robbins

Huntsville Hospital

Lauren Tomasella

Lauren Tomasella Photography

Ashley Vaughn

White Rabbit Studios/Vertical House Records

Charles Vaughn

Vaughn Lumber Company

Andrew Wilmon

Broadway Theatre Leagueley. Th at’s a secret we do

6 » contents

SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER 2015

Volume 4: Issue 5

• • •

Editor-in-Chief C. Allen Tomlinson

Chief Operating Offi cer Matthew Liles

Creative Director David Sims

Advertising Director Heidi King

Advertising Sales Kevin McDonald, Johnson Trent

Features Manager Roy Hall

Graphic Designer Rowan Finnegan

Web Designer Justin Hall

Editorial Assistant Tara Bullington

Videographer Justin Argo

Retail Product Manager Sara Wright Covington

Proofreader Carole Maynard

• • •

Contributing Writers

Amy C. Collins, Sara Wright Covington,

Guy McClure, Jr., Allen Tomlinson

• • •

Contributing Photographers

Ben Hood, Patrick Hood, Danny Mitchell,

Dustin Timbrook, Shannon Wells

• • •

No’Ala Huntsville is published six times annuallyby No’Ala Studios

PO Box 2530, Florence, AL 35630 Phone: (800) 779-4222 | Fax: (256) 766-4106

Web: noalastudios.com

Standard postage paid at Huntsville, AL.A one-year subscription is $19.95for delivery in the United States.

Signed articles refl ect only the views of the authors and do not necessarily refl ect the views of the editors.

Advertisers are solely responsible forthe content of their advertisements.

© 2008-2015 No’Ala Studios, All rights reserved.

Send all correspondence toAllen Tomlinson, Editor, at the postal address above,

or by e-mail to [email protected] may be edited for space and style.

To advertise, contact us at(256) 766-4222, or [email protected].

The editor will provide writer’s guidelines upon request.Prospective authors should not submit unsolicited

manuscripts; please query the editor fi rst.

No’Ala Huntsville is printed with vegetable-based inks.Please recycle.

Connect with us on Facebook: No’Ala HuntsvilleTwitter: @NoAla_Magazine and Pinterest: NoAlaStudios

everything else

488 Calendar Selected Events for September/October 2015

10 Cryin’ Out Loud “Sense Memory”

by sara wright covington

66 Market by sara wright covington

photos by danny mitchell

74 Th e Vine “Oyster Wines” by amy c. collins

76 Bless Th eir Hearts “Sail On” by guy mcclure, jr.

78 Parting Shot by dustin timbrook

© Patrick Hood

Ben

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s 24

Th ursday, September 3 – Th ursday,

October 22 (Th ursdays Only)

Biergarten Stein and Dine

Enjoy a festive atmosphere with imported and domestic beers and

German wine. It’s family friendly, and leashed dogs are welcome. Rain or

shine. 4:30pm-7:30pm; Free, Food and beverages available for purchase; U.S.

Space & Rocket Center, One Tranquility Base, Saturn V Hall; rocketcenter.com

Friday, September 11 – Sunday, September 13 and

Th urs, September 17 – Sunday, September 20

Th e Philadelphia Story

A society weekly sends a reporter to cover the nuptials of a privileged young woman and her snobby fi ancé, only to fi nd the

bride-to-be more interested in the reporter than her intended. Th urs-Sat, 7:30pm and Sun 2:00pm; Adults $18, Seniors, Stu-

dents, Active Duty Military $16; Von Braun Center Playhouse; (256) 536-0807; yourseatiswaiting.org

Friday, September 18

England: A Sea Symphony

Th e Huntsville Symphony Orchestra is joined by the amazing Tiff any Bostic-Brown, Terrance Brown, and the Huntsville

Community Chorus for an outstanding launch of the 61st season. Benjamin Britten’s opera, Peter Grimes, tells the story of an

English fi sherman, and Vaughan Williams’s A Sea Symphony is based on Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. 7:30pm; Admission

Charged; Mark C. Smith Concert Hall, VBC; (256) 539-4818; hso.org

Friday, September 25 – Sunday, September 27

Th e River Clay Arts Festival

Downtown Decatur’s River Clay Fine Arts Festival features a juried exhibition of ceramics, digital and electronic art, drawing,

fi ber art, glass, jewelry, metalwork, mixed media, painting, photography, printmaking, sculpture, woodwork, and more. A

ticketed preview party Friday night introduces patrons and artists, with public events Sat and Sun. Sat 9:00am–5:00pm, Sun

10:00am–4:00pm; Free; Downtown Decatur; riverclay.org

Friday, October 2 – Saturday, October 3

Tennessee Valley Old Time Fiddlers Convention

200 musicians compete in 18 diff erent categories. A “fi ddle-off ” between the top two challengers results in “Tennessee Valley

Old Time Fiddle Champion.” Bring your lawn chairs and enjoy the outstanding music, 150 arts and crafts vendors, and delicious

festival food. Fri 8:00am, Sat 7:30am; $10 per day, $15 both days, Free under 12; ASU, 300 North Beaty St; athens.edu/fi ddlers

Friday, October 30

Las Vegas: Halloween Magic Featuring Illusionist

Michael Grandinetti

Join the HSO for a family-friendly Halloween concert featuring master illusionist Michael Grandinetti, accompanied by

performances of the haunting Night on Bald Mountain, the bewitching In the Hall of the Mountain King, exciting themes from

the Harry Potter movies, and more. 7:30pm; Admission charged; Mark C. Smith Concert Hall, VBC; (256) 539-4818; hso.org

8 » calendar


Call (256) 837-3400 or visit rocketcenter.comfor more information.

This exhibition is created by Scitech Discovery Centre,Perth, Australia, and produced by Imagine Exhibitions Inc.

Open the doorto their future“Science Fiction, Science Future” is an interactive adventure that demonstrates such future technologies as robotics, holograms, augmented reality and invisibility.

Opens S e ptember 2 3

88.7 FM Muscle Shoals • 100.7 FM Huntsvillewww.apr.org

News, classicalmusic and more

10 » cryin’ out loud » Sara Wright Covington

SENSE MEMORY

Eventually my sense of smell returned. It was gradually at fi rst, and so slight that I often wondered if the faint aromas I began to notice were real or just manifestations of my imagination.

When I was three, my doting, stay-at-home mother attempted to socialize me by enrolling

me in a one morning a week mother’s morning out program at Calvary Baptist Church in Tuscumbia.

Aside from the stories I’ve been told over the years of the traumatization—it was traumatic for my

mother, not me—I can’t say I remember much about it. I was the typical introverted child—hyper

aware of any change in my environment, hysterical at the thought of being thrust into situations where

I might be forced to interact with people I didn’t know, and super clingy to my parents. And all except

for the later (I eventually willingly moved out of my parents’ house) I can’t really say that I’ve changed all

that much since then. Many years after my fi rst classroom experience, I went back to that same church

to pick up my nephew who was enrolled in the exact same daycare program. As soon

as I walked through the glass doors of the building and that warm rush of daycare-air

engulfed my lungs, it all came fl ooding back to me: the peach cobbler and paste, the

soggy toast squares and juice, and the chilly stale air wafting in from a giant, dark room

fi lled with cots for napping. All at once, I remembered what it was to be three years

old again, sitting in the director’s offi ce while she called my mother to remind

her she had forgotten my swimsuit for the wading pool on that particularly

hot summer day. Instead of a suit, I made do with some spare shorts and

a T-shirt they scrounged up for me and I waded happily into the

pool, splashing until my fi ngers and toes were prune-ish and my

cheeks were stinging from the sun—I’m pretty sure sunscreen

had not become all the rage yet in 1983. I remembered the

details of it all so vividly, although I had not thought back on

that day since then—nor was I even consciously aware it had

ever happened—before the smell of it rushed back into my

lungs again many, many years later. I remembered that it was

a good day, and I called my mother immediately to tell her that

she needn’t have worried about me.

If you’ve read this column for any length of time, you have likely caught

on that my family creeps in pretty much every time, and I’ve been known

to whine about things I don’t appreciate until they are gone. Th is one is no

diff erent, as I am recalling my temporary loss of smell last summer when I had

surgery to correct a deviated septum. Th e loss of the sense of smell post nasal surgery

is common and usually temporary, but during those two months of this surgery side

eff ect, I can’t tell you how many times I inhaled deeply to no avail, causing me panic when I

realized what I was missing. I stood outside in my yard in inches of freshly fallen snow in

February and vainly attempted to fully experience the cold. I sniff ed my sweet newborn’s

little head for hints of that sweet, fl eeting new human smell and came up with noth-

ing, immediately questioning the bargain I had made in exchange for a future free of

chronic sinus infections.


Th e human brain is truly a majestic bit of machinery, and my

predominantly creative, right-brained personality doesn’t

typically dwell on the specifi cs of the mind’s intricate me-

chanics, as my eyes tend to glaze over at the mere mention

of science. But even I found it interesting that according to

scientists, our sense of smell is most powerfully linked to our

memories. Incoming smells are processed by the olfactory

bulb that connects to the brain’s limbic system, which is di-

rectly responsible for our emotions. Th e fi rst time we smell

something, our brain links it with the physical details of the

time and place. When we smell that thing again, the link is

already there, thus conjuring the past memory. So the smell

of a place or thing can evoke memories that would have been

otherwise buried beneath layers of time and space.

In my post-surgery panic, I grasped for these smell mem-

ories. And as much as this completely made sense to me,

when I started trying to actually recall what other scents

have evoked long-lost memories for me, it was diffi cult for

me to do. According to my research, this is likely because

smells connect with the emotional part of our brain, unlike

the memories of sight, touch, or sound which are more cog-

nitive memories.

I asked a few people to tell me what scents they linked with

what memories throughout their lives, and I got everything

from “summer tomatoes remind me of my neighbor’s gar-

den,” to “salt water taff y reminds me of a trip to the Smokies

when I was little.” My husband remembers the muddy smell

of the river and summers spent at Joe Wheeler. And a dear

friend of mine associates the sweet, grapey smell of a par-

ticular children’s boutique to a newborn gown she bought

for her daughter.

If you ask my mother what smells bring back memories for

her, she will tell you without hesitation, “Geraniums. I’ve

spent my whole life trying to grow them because they re-

mind me of sleeping outside on my grandmother’s screened

in porch in the summers I spent with her in Missouri as a lit-

tle girl. I was so happy there, and I always just grieved when

I had to leave her. Th e geraniums make me remember her.”

Eventually my sense of smell returned. It was gradually at

fi rst, and so slight that I often wondered if the faint aro-

mas I began to notice were real or just manifestations of my

imagination. But to my relief, I began noticing the scents

around me again more and more, once again unconsciously

preserving little slivers of time I wouldn’t realize were sig-

nifi cant till likely many years later, which is usually how the

best stuff is.

T H E F O R T Y - N I N T H A N N U A L T E N N E S S E E V A L L E Y O L D T I M E

FIDDLERS CONVENTION O C T O B E R 2 A N D 3 , 2 0 1 5

AT H E N S , A L A B A M A W W W . A T H E N S . E D U / F I D D L E R S

O N T H E C A M P U S O F H I S T O R I C

* Names for photos are provided by the organization or business featured.

12 » scene

Mary Kay Crawford and Doris Dean

Shannon Hutton, Sam Hutton, Susan Anderson, and Cece Anderson

Dorothy Ross and Lelia Reid-Davis

Mayor Ronnie Marksand Holly Holman

Sister Schubert Barnes and Betty Sims

Phyllis Thornton and Lynn Lawler

Myrna Burgreen and Ida Terry

Jessie Mayne and Daniel Seigel

David Milly and Wayne Chaney

Will McFarlane, Marie Lewey,and Kelvin Holley

Amy Gates Caldwelland Chris Paysinger

“Microwave Dave” Gallaher, Phil Weaver, Marie Bostick, David Milly, and Dennis Keim

Eileen and Mike Dalen

Sally Warden, Marita Durham, and Charlotte Spear

© Photos by Guy McClure, Jr.

Todd and Margie Phillips, withMary Grace and Mack Evans

© Photos by Jeff White and Cathie Mayne

Fred and Leslie Ecklund, and Bill and Kelley Boykin

Above: Th e Donnell House Annual Meeting

featuring Sister Schubert Barnes and Betty Simsjune , · athens

Below: Land Trust of North Alabama presentsMuscle Shoals Revue

june , · concerts at three caves


A J U R I E D F I N E A R T F E S T I V A L I N H I S T O R I C D O W N T O W N D E C A T U R

S E P T E M B E R

26-27Preview party & event details at

RIVERCLAY


WHISTLESTOP’SBARBECUE BEST

©Patrick Hood


IT’S NO SECRET that in the South, barbecue is serious busi-

ness. And Huntsville’s Rocket City BBQ competition, which is part of the annual

WhistleStop Festival, is no exception. Although the festival is for a fantastic cause

(all proceeds go to benefi t the EarlyWorks Children’s Museum and local education

programs), the intense competition is far from child’s play.

Held every year around Huntsville’s historic depot, the early May air is warm,

sweet, and smoky, with subtle hints of a host of many other essences that will

make you stop to wriggle your nose and reach for a fork, or at least a napkin.

But the secret is truly in the sauce, and if you are looking to pinpoint those exact

fl avors, you’ll be hard pressed to fi nd any of these barbecue contenders who will

give you much of anything but a sly grin and another taste, or maybe even a beer.

As far as the secret to their smoke, that’s about all you’ll get out of many of them.

And though some teams are here for the fi rst time and others have been return-

ing to the competition for years, all of these barbecue buff s have taken the art of

smoking to a whole other level, and they take their tasks as very serious work. But

the breezy, outdoor spring setting of the festival in Huntsville’s historic downtown

does make their labor of love seem much less like work, and anyway, as Morgan

Freeman once famously quoted in a fi lm, “May is one damn fi ne month to be

working outside.”

Although the barbecue competition is not the entire focus of the festival, much

time and eff ort is given each year to make sure the competition portion is con-

ducted on the most professional level. Beth Goodwin, who is director of market-

ing for EarlyWorks, has been doing publicity for the event for several years and

knows fi rsthand just how serious the barbecue competitors are. “Th ey are very

serious,” she says. “Th ey come from all over and we have several teams that have

been with us every single year.” Th e barbecue competition features two divisions,

the Shade Tree competition for amateurs, and the Kansas City Barbecue Society

Professional competition which is strictly for the pros. Th e main diff erence in the

dividing categories of competition is that the professionals are required to submit

entries in ALL categories, which include chicken, ribs, butt, and brisket, versus the

text by sara wright covington » photos by patrick hoodadditional photos by ben hood


Shade Tree entrants who can choose which meat categories

they submit for judgement.

“It is all sanctioned by the KCBS, because they already have

a lot of rules in place,” says Goodwin. “We use VIP judges for

Shade Tree but we still use KCBS guidelines. Th at way there

is a uniform process for the judgment.” No gas or electric

grills are allowed, and judges are asked to observe appear-

ance, texture, and taste. Each entrant is then assigned an

anonymous identifi cation number and their barbecue sam-

ples are presented to the judges and given scores based off of

those three key factors. After all plates are cleared and the

last score card has been tallied, the winners are announced

and trophies are presented in the evening.

“It’s a fun way for us to do the fundraiser,” says Goodwin.

“But what’s so neat and special about WhistleStop is that it

is a true slice of what is Huntsville and Madison County. Th e

county commissioner has a team, the mayor has a team, and

the sheriff has a team. It’s just a great mix of community. It’s

like a big family reunion.”

THE SECRET’S IN THE SAUCE

©Patrick Hood

©Ben Hood

Electric and gas grills are not allowed during WhistleStop’s two day barbecue cook-off , but smokers line the grounds of Huntsville’s historic depot grounds by the hundreds.


©Patrick Hood

Victor Russell and JD Reed prepare ribs for presentation.


Th at sense of family that Goodwin mentioned seems to be

the draw for most of the teams who keep coming back again

each year to compete. And as much as the actual competi-

tion is all about the barbecue, for some teams the planning

and preparation work that goes into each team’s setup is

admittedly half the fun. For members of this year’s winning

team from the Shade Tree division, Smoke ’Em If You Got

’Em, planning for this three-day event begins months in ad-

vance. Now in their fourth year of competing together, the

team has taken their smoking setup to an art form, and they

carve out a pretty elaborate setup in their annual spot, which

is adjacent to a hackberry tree near the old Edith Ann’s Diner.

Th is year alone it took six truckloads to create their cooking

space, complete with a refrigerator, dishwasher, 11 coolers,

and even a chandelier for an additional touch. “It’s your abil-

ity to tailgate outside of football season,” says team member

Matt Howell. “We start looking forward to this and talking

about it around November. Every year we discuss whether

we change the rub, whether we change the sauce, or even if

we should incorporate another tent with a chandelier. Th is is

really big for us.”


©Patrick Hood

©Ben Hood

The competition categories are for ribs, butt, brisket, and chicken. Shade Tree competi-tors may choose which categories to enter, while the professional level competitors are required to submit in all categories.


©Patrick Hood


Howell and his fellow teammates—Victor Russell, JD Reed,

Quin Bludsworth, Ben Matthews, Jeff Maynor, and Mark

Fortner—all practice individually and as a team throughout

the year, which gives them a chance to both sharpen their

skills and share some good times with each other and their

families. “We just love having everybody together. It’s a great

chance to get together with our families and let the kids play

and just share some hospitality with each other,” he says.

Huntsville resident Justin South and his team, Baby Got Fat

Back, have been competing in the competition for several

years in the KCBS Pro level, and South also agrees that the

fellowship of the festival is what keeps him returning every

year to contend with many other competitors he now calls

close friends. “I’m a barbecue junkie,” he admits. “And for

me it’s a matter of loving to cook barbecue. Th ere are Satur-

days I will fi re up the smoker just to smell it, but the people

you meet are still my favorite part of it all. Honestly, it’s the

people that keep me coming back.”

South and his teammates have made friends from all over

the country, and he and his team even plan and travel with

four or fi ve other teams who attend other barbecue competi-


©Patrick Hood

©Patrick Hood

Members of the winning Shade Tree Division Team, Smoke ’Em If You Got ’Em, from left to right: JD Reed, Ben Matthews, Matt Howell, Victor Russell, and Mark Fortner. (Not pic-tured: Quin Bludsworth and Jeff Maynor)


©Patrick Hood


tions throughout the year. “When you are sitting really close

to people for two or three days whom you may not know well

at fi rst, by the time those two or three days are over, you have

become close,” he says. “Th at’s the beauty of the camaraderie

of it all. We meet local people and national guys. I’m now

friends with the people who make the rubs that I use, and I

get to compete with them. One of my good buddies was on

Grill Masters just the other day.”

Although many competitors are more closed mouthed

about the secrets to their successes, South says his team

often shares their own tricks and tips from their successful

recipes, and in turn they are able to learn from fellow com-

petitors. He insists they all want to see each other do well,

and if another team’s name is called that they have helped

out in some way, they will be cheering just as loudly for that

other team. “Th is competition is just full of quality people,”

says South. “On the day of the competition there is a cook’s

church. Th ere is a camaraderie here that you won’t fi nd in

most competitions. Th is is really a close-knit group and ev-

eryone wants to see everyone else do well.”

After the coolers are all packed up, the last truck load has

been hauled off , and another year’s WhistleStop Festival is

in the books, the smell of the smoke is the last thing to leave,

lingering for a bit like the last guest reluctant to leave the

party. Plans are already being made for the next year, and

the leftovers, if there are any, have been divided up and sent

home. As for the question of how this year’s winning Shade

Tree team will up the ante for next year, the secret sauce may

not be up for discussion, but Howell says it’s still the heart of

the experience that keep them coming back every year. “It’s

just the experience and it’s the fellowship. Everybody comes

by your tent. You are guaranteed to make new friends. It re-

ally is the quintessential southern experience. And the bonus

is that you really get to taste a lot of really amazing food.”

arn from fellow com-

e each other do well,

hat they have helped

just as loudly for that

ull of quality people,”

ition there is a cook’s

hat you won’t fi nd in

se-knit group and ev-

well.”

ally is the quintessential southern experience. And the bonus

is that you really get to taste a lot of really amazing food.”

©Patrick Hood

Whether a team is competing for the very fi rst time, or they have been veteran com-petitors for many years, most participants agree that what makes WhistleStop special is the sense of camaraderie that comes from cooking in such close proximity with both new and old friends.


SATURDAY NOV. 21 4PM CENTRALChannel 15

| noalastudios.com | september/october | n| nnn|| noaloaloalooalooallastastastastastas udiudiudiudiiosos.s.os.sos comcomcomcocomc m |||| sepsepsepseptemtemtemtemt berberber/oc/ococoo tobtobtober erer

text by allen tomlinson » photos by abraham rowe and patrick hood

©Abraham Rowe


IT’S A SUNNY DAY IN ROCKET CITY. Too sunny. It’s not

the temperature I mind; my borrowed car is air conditioned, and the windows

are sealed tight. No, it’s the heat I can’t take. Th is particular errand calls for shad-

ows—just enough light to get you there, but plenty of shade to cover your tracks.

I adjust my sunglasses on the bridge of my nose and pull the ball cap a little lower

on my head. I disappear as far into my Corinthian leather seat as it will allow. Th e

voice on my phone tells me to bear left, and I do what I’m told. Squinting behind

the sunglasses that protect my identity as well as my retinas, my sedan slinks on

to a tree-lined street. My heart is racing; my palms are sweating. I tell myself a

little white lie: “It’s going to be OK,” I whisper to myself. “Th ese people don’t want

trouble, and neither do I. Just get the facts—and get out.”

Th e houses on this street are large, brick, and mostly two stories. Th e lawns are

manicured, and probably not by the people who live here. Seems an unlikely spot

for such clandestine operations, but at this point, nothing will surprise me. I want

to get to know these lawbreakers and fi nd out what motivates them, what led them

down the (very nicely paved) road to the dark side. Who knows what evil lurks in

the hearts of men? I have a feeling I’m ‘bout to.

“You have arrived at your destination,” says my phone, and I stop the car and peer

at the house in front of me. It’s relatively new, with a wide front porch and rock-

ing chairs; the fl owers in the beds are pretty spectacular, and the grass is perfectly

manicured. I note that there is a tall wooden fence at the back, probably built

specially to hide all of the illegal activity that takes place back there. Hardly what

I would expect, but maybe that’s the point? Make it look like a perfectly ordinary

home in the middle of suburbia, and throw the offi cials off your tracks.

I take a deep breath, turn off the engine, and open my door. I’ve hardly stepped

outside the car when I hear a man say, “Welcome! Any trouble fi nding us?” It’s the

homeowner, whom we will call “John” (all of the names in this story have been

changed, to protect the lawbreakers and their neighbors). He’s surprisingly young,

nicely dressed, and not shady looking at all. He walks toward me, hand extended;

we shake hands.

©Abraham Rowe


“Of course, I do it for the eggs, but it’s more than that. Th ese chickens are beautiful—they are like works of art,

and I add them to my garden the way I’d add fl owers.” —“Brent”

©Abraham Rowe


Behind him, in the doorway, is his wife, whom we will call

“Mary.” She’s beautiful, nicely dressed, with a broad smile.

Th e children are at the community swimming pool for a

couple of hours, so we have plenty of time to talk, she ex-

plains. Th en, they welcome me in. I take a deep breath and

step inside.

Once the door has fi rmly shut behind me, I get right to busi-

ness. “Ok, folks, I have to know. Where do you keep”—my

voice drops to a whisper—“the chickens”?

“Th e what?” says John. For a moment I panic, thinking I have

come to the wrong house. Will they think I am crazy? Will

they get mad if they think I am accusing them of harboring

illegal fowl? If I am at the wrong house, will I give away the

real John and Mary’s secret and expose them to the entire

neighborhood? Barely fi ve minutes into my assignment, and

I may have messed everything up. I feel familiar red heat

creeping up my neck, a sign that I am in trouble. We’re walk-

ing toward the back of the house, to the kitchen, where Mary

pulls out a chair and off ers me a seat.

“Ummm…the chickens?” I squawk. Th en, out of the corner of

my eye, I see what I have come to see. Th rough the kitchen

window, I catch a glimpse of a dark grey bird with a top knot

and beautiful golden fl ecks of color in her feathers. It’s the

magnifi cent Merc, a Golden Lace Wyandotte breed, and she’s

beautiful. I can’t help but stare. It’s a fl ood of relief, seeing this

small clucking animal; I have found what I was looking for.

I turn back to John and Mary. “Why do you do this?” I ask.

“What made you decide to break the law and harbor chick-

ens inside the city limits?”

Th e couple smiles at each other and then at me. I get the feel-

ing they have been asked this question before. Mary speaks

fi rst. “We do it for the eggs,” she says. “Store bought eggs

have no taste, and the yolks we get from our chickens are

deep orange and beautiful. We do it for the eggs.”

And then, it’s as if the fl oodgates have opened. John and

Mary pour out their hearts to me.

©Abraham Rowe

CHICKEN [CONFIDENTIAL]


IT STARTED OUT innocently enough. “We had a

friend who raised chicks,” says John, “and I have always loved

eggs. Our friend hatched some chicks, so he gave me a cou-

ple and I brought them home.”

“Th e children loved them, but we weren’t certain we were

going to keep them. Our son was supposed to be studying

for a science test the next day, and we got the defi nite feeling

that he hadn’t prepared, so, in a classic parenting fail move,

we off ered a bribe. Make a hundred on your science test, and

we can keep the chickens. If you don’t, they go back.”

“He made a hundred and ten,” says Mary, “and we had our-

selves some chickens.”

Th e family read and researched online and learned all they

could learn about raising chickens. And it was interest-

ing, the things they learned. Chickens eat bugs and worms,

among other things, and help keep them under control; hens

don’t make a lot of noise, unlike roosters, who are very dif-

fi cult to keep in the city; if properly cared for, chicken coops

don’t smell, and the poop makes amazing fertilizer. (Th at

might explain the abundance of profusely blooming fl owers

in containers and fl ower beds all around this home; this fam-

ily doesn’t just get eggs, they get fertilizer, too.)

For the family, it was more than just raising chickens; it was

about considering where their food comes from in general.

Th e process of having chickens has made them much more

conscious of what they eat, and they look for natural and

unprocessed foods in general, preferring the farmer’s market

to the nearby mega-store for food. Th ey learned that eggs,

when they are freshly laid, are covered in something called

“bloom,” which preserves the egg and makes it last for weeks

and even months. Th ey even planned a recent family vaca-

tion as “chicken tourists,” visiting farms that raise hens on

a much larger scale. Th e more they learned, the more they

loved the idea of having hens, even though they were plagued

with the guilt of knowing that it was illegal inside the city.

“Did you ever check with the city to see if it would be OK?”

I ask. Th e answer is “no”—neither John nor Mary wanted a

record of their having asked, in case the dreaded day came

when they were forced to disband the fl ock. Th ey operate

strictly on the “better to ask forgiveness than ask permission”

theory, and as far as they are concerned, they have never offi -

cially been told that this is wrong. Offi cially. Th ey have some


©Abraham Rowe



nagging suspicions, but they also have these wonderful eggs,

and that eases the pain.

What about the neighbors? Surely they know what’s going

on. Don’t they tell? Th e short answer is “no,” again. Th e fi ve

hens are prolifi c enough to provide for the family and have

eggs to spare, and the family is both generous and smart.

I don’t want to call it bribery, this method for keeping the

neighbors happy with their regular supply of fresh eggs, but

it certainly keeps them quiet—and happy. Co-conspirators,

as it were.

John and Mary are so nice and so enthusiastic about this ille-

gal activity of theirs, I begin to relax. So, I think at one point,

this is how it happens; you are an upright citizen, and pretty

soon you’re lured into this dark underworld and you become

a part of it. Only in this case, the underworld isn’t really that

dark; it’s more like just shady, since the backyard has so many

trees, and it’s not really an underworld but more like an up-

scale neighborhood…but whatever. It’s still illegal.

“So, these hens must be pretty good fried up,” I say, half jok-

ing, but I am stopped dead in my tracks by a horrifi ed look

from Mary.

John rushes in to fi ll the uncomfortable silence. “Th ese are

more than just hens in the backyard,” he says. “Th ese are

pets. Two of the fi ve are going through ‘henopause,’ because

they have gotten old, so their egg production has signifi cant-

ly slowed. But we couldn’t think of getting rid of them, or

even ‘frying them up,’ as you say. We love them.”

“And now,” he says, standing up, “it’s time for you to meet

them.”

Th e moment of truth. I follow John and Mary to the back

door, and out onto the deck. Merc, the Golden Laced Wyan-

dotte, comes rushing forward to greet us, and the other four

are hanging back, watching, gauging whether or not I am

going to be friendly.

Th ey have Marley, a Dominique; Rosabelle; Pez; and Roo-

sevelt. As we amble through the backyard, moving slowly

toward the chicken house, Mary tells me about Rizzo, a very

social hen who had apparently wandered off with a fox or a

raccoon and met an untimely end. “Th at’s one of the most

interesting things about these animals,” she says. “Th ey are

not stupid. Th ey’re really very smart, and extremely social.

©Abraham Rowe



©Patrick Hood



When Rizzo disappeared, Pez went into a depression. Th at’s

how we ended up with the other four; we brought them into

the fold to help cheer Pez up. She was missing her friend.”

Th e chickens are moving in to study me, and I am a little

nervous, but Mary reassures me that they won’t hurt me.

She takes some feed and lets them eat it out of her hands;

they cluck softly and move about the yard, although Marley

is eyeing me a little suspiciously. John and Mary steer me to

the corner of the yard where the henhouse is located.

Th e henhouse is actually quite nice. It’s a small wooden struc-

ture in the corner, by the fence, under a shade tree. A small

part of the yard has been enclosed with a wire fence, mostly

to protect the hens from predators and not so much to keep

them from escaping. Part of the henhouse is the laying area,

and John opens the trapdoor to show me the nest. Th ere’s a

golf ball in the nest—an incentive, I think, or a marker to let

the hens know where to lay. John tells me some people use

plastic Easter eggs, but it’s just to make the hens comfortable.

Th ere’s absolutely no smell, and the hens are clucking so

softly I’m sure the neighbors can’t hear them. It all seems so

innocent; I wonder why in the world the city doesn’t want

this inside their limits?

THE NEXT DAY, I’m in another neighborhood on

the other side of town. I’m not quite as nervous this time,

since I wasn’t attacked by killer chickens, arrested by city

offi cials, or even bothered by suspicious neighbors during

my last visit. Th e chickens at John and Mary’s house were

so, well, cute—and the eggs were beautiful, a nice, rich, light

brown color. Harmless, actually, I think, and then quickly re-

mind myself that this is illegal activity.

Today, I’m visiting with a much younger couple, fairly re-

cently married with a young baby. Th eir house is also in a

nice neighborhood, and their backyard sits beside a fairly

busy street. Once again, I’m struck by the fact that they do

not seem guilty or ashamed about their illegal fowl, and re-

ally get into having chickens in their backyard.

“I grew up on a farm and we raised chickens,” says the wom-

en we’ll call “Sue.” “When we got married and got a house of

our own, I didn’t think it was a big deal at all to have them

here. We really didn’t know it wasn’t allowed, but we didn’t

ask, and so far no one has complained.” Her husband, whom

we will call “Jim,” nods in agreement. Once again, better to

ask forgiveness than permission.

I ask them why they think it’s against the law to have chick-

ens in the city limits. “I’m not sure,” says Jim, “but it probably

has something to do with livestock in general. People in nice

neighborhoods don’t want to live next to smelly farms, but

raising chickens isn’t like that at all. In fact, we’ve seen dogs

in backyards who smell worse and make more noise than

chickens, and dogs are legal.”

We move to the backyard to see their fl ock, three chickens

who are relatively young and haven’t really started laying yet.

Jim has constructed an ingenious henhouse out of an old

wooden chest of drawers, on its back; the hens have a ramp

to walk up and into the house, just like the old-time cartoons

I grew up watching where hens go to work every day on an

egg-laying production line.

“One of the reasons we want chickens, aside from the eggs,

is that we want our daughter to grow up around animals,”

says Sue. “She’s too young for a cat or a dog, but she loves to

watch the chickens, and we want her to love animals the way

we do.” As if on cue, one of their hens moves closer to me to

inspect me; I’m not as nervous around her as I was before,

and let her scope me out. I must pass, because she goes back

to hunting for bugs; I breathe a little sigh of relief and move

on to my next family.

“One of the reasons we want chickens, aside from the eggs, is that we want our daughter

to grow up around animals. She’s too young for a cat or a dog, but she loves to watch the chickens, and

we want her to love animals the way we do.” —“Sue”


AN ARTIST FRIEND OF OURS has been

raising chickens in the city for more than 20 years, and I talk

to him about it.

“Of course, I do it for the eggs,” says my friend, whom we

will call “Brent.” “But it’s more than that. Th ese chickens are

beautiful—they are like works of art, and I add them to my

garden the way I’d add fl owers.”

I have never thought of chickens in this way, but it is true.

Th e subtle colors and patterns of some of the chickens I

have seen were stunningly beautiful, and when the sunlight

catches the feathers, some of them almost glow. Th e idea of

these beautiful and colorful animals amongst the fl owers in

the backyard gives a whole new perspective to having them,

and it is especially appropriate for this artist friend to point

that out. Th is isn’t a farming project: this is an art project.

Brent also points out that dogs could be smellier and noisier

than his chickens, and the city’s only restriction on dogs is

about the number you are allowed to have. Why couldn’t

the same be true of chickens? Keep roosters out of the equa-

tion—that introduces an entirely diff erent noise level to rais-

ing fowl, and when you have roosters, you get fertilized eggs,

which leads to more chickens. Th at could be a recipe for

trouble; if the objection to chickens within the city limits is

to prevent corporate farming in nice neighborhoods, maybe

an acceptable compromise is to limit the number and pro-

hibit the roosters.

ANOTHER ARTIST FRIEND, an animal

lover from way back, goes the extra mile to make her hens

comfortable. In fact, her layers, who are an exotic variety

of chicken that appears more furry than feathery, live in a

chicken house decorated with art. Each hen has a portrait

of herself on the walls of the coop, so she can contemplate

the meaning of life while she goes about the business of egg

production—or, perhaps, the art is inspiration for the hen

to produce more eggs, in hopes that the she can show the

family portraits to her off spring and teach them about their

proud heritage.

One striking similarity in all of these stories is how un-

ashamed the owners are—and how accepting the neighbors

have become. With the exception of one story of a renegade

chicken gone wild, who fl ew over a fence and ate all of the

neighbor’s fl owers, there really haven’t been any problems.

(Th e off ending chicken got her wings clipped and hasn’t es-

caped since, and the neighbors cheerfully accept the egg of-

ferings and inquire about the chickens, so peace has been

restored.)

My last visit is with a young couple who have raised chickens

for about three years. Last week, they had four hens—Hazel,

Etta, Rosie, and Lena—but one was carried away by a hawk,

so they are down to three. We stand in the backyard and talk

about the ins and outs of clandestine chicken raising, and

as we talk the most aggressive chicken comes up to check

me out. I can’t remember the chicken’s original name, but a

neighbor nicknamed her “Blondie” because of her white tail,

and her owners, whom we will call “Anna” and “Justin,” laugh

about how personable she is. “She’ll even sit in my lap when

I’m having my morning coff ee on the deck,” says Anna.

But that’s not all—she also loves being inside the house. Not

that she’s allowed in there, but Blondie is a little sneaky and

fi nds her way in there anyway. “It’s common to walk into

the kitchen and see Blondie and our cat both eating food

out of the cat dish,” says Justin. “She’d live inside with us, if

we’d let her.”

All three chickens are beautiful, and I can’t help but notice

what great bone structure and what good muscular devel-

opment they have. I tentatively broach the subject again—

would you ever consider eating these chickens?

Th e couple laughs. “We have this discussion all the time,”

says Anna. “Justin says he could eat them, but I could not. If

I hadn’t gotten to know them, maybe we could—we’re cer-

tainly not opposed to eating chicken! Even though consum-

ing chickens is part of the natural order of things, these are

our pets.”

Justin reluctantly agrees. “Someday we hope to move to the

country where we can have a little more space,” he says. “Our

dream would be to have more chickens—chickens we have to

lay eggs, and chickens we have to eat. We probably won’t get

to know the chickens we eat, the way we know our layers.”

All of this talk about eating chicken must have angered

Blondie, because all of a sudden she walks right up to me

and pecks at my leg. I jump, mostly because it surprised me;

I am pretty sure she couldn’t really hurt me, but I did sort of

move a little to put some space between us.


©Abraham Rowe



©Patrick Hood



Th e chicken house in this couple’s backyard is beautiful,

made by Justin from leftover wood he had when he built the

deck on the back of the house. Th ere’s the ramp up to the

laying area, and the chicken wire to protect them from night

predators. Other than hawks, this family hasn’t had much

trouble from visiting raccoons or possums, and they let their

chickens roam the yard during the day. (Th ey put themselves

to bed in the coop at night.)

Ashley laughs when she tells me about what happened when

they fi rst got their brood. “Our backyard is fenced, and we

thought that was enough,” she says. “But we found out later

that when we would leave the house to go to work in the

mornings, our chickens would go visit the neighbors. All of

the neighbors. We found out one time when we came home

early and couldn’t fi nd them—they were next door, visiting.

Th ankfully, none of the neighbors minded; in fact, they really

enjoyed it, except for the fl ower-eating incident. We clipped

their wings, eventually, to keep them in our yard, but the

neighbors still hang over the fence and talk to them or check

on them.”

Some chicken owners keep their chickens cooped up all day

long, but that’s not the healthiest thing for the chicken, and it

aff ects the egg. “Cooped-up chickens produce eggs like you’d

fi nd at the grocery store, and our eggs have a richer taste; our

chickens lay eggs that are bold, with thicker shells, and more

integrity in the white.”

What was the biggest surprise, once they became chicken

ranchers? Th e pecking order, says Anna. “Th ere’s really

something to it,” she says. “Blondie is very much in charge

of this brood. She even eats fi rst, and then lets the others

know when it’s OK for them to come eat. She’s the undis-

puted boss, and you’d better not forget it!”

AFTER VISITING THE LAST FAMILY

who harbors chickens, I realize I can’t really think of them

as criminals any more. In fact, I wonder if we might con-

vince our cities to rethink their policy against having hens

on private property within the city limits. I can understand

limiting the number, and making sure roosters aren’t in the

mix, but the chickens I saw—all with names, all beautiful

works of art, all productive egg-producing citizens—seem

to be peaceful, happy, and loaded with personality. As more

than one chicken owner pointed out, dogs can be a bigger

nuisance if they aren’t cared for properly.

But until that day comes, these chicken owners will contin-

ue to quietly let their chickens roam in the confi nes of their

backyards. Th ey’ll continue the cycle of bribing the neigh-

bors with gifts of fresh eggs, and they will get a little nervous

when a city vehicle turns down their street.

And you might not ever know that there are chickens in your

neighborhood, unless there are tell-tale signs. Are the neigh-

bors’ fl ower beds prolifi c because, perhaps, they are being

fertilized with chicken poop? Have you ever awakened and

walked outside only to fi nd a basket of bribery eggs on your

stoop? Who knows if that cute couple next door is secretly

harboring illegal hens within the fenced-in backyard of their

neat-as-a-pin home? Don’t ask too many questions. Just en-

joy the eggs.

“It’s common to walk into the kitchen and see Blondie and our cat both eating food

out of the cat dish. She’d live inside with us, if we’d let her.” —“Anna”

text by allen tomlinson

photos by shannon wells

and patrick hood



you’ve ever wondered what it

sounds like to hear angels sing, you might

want to come to the fi rst performance

of the Huntsville Symphony Orchestra’s

61st season. Th ere are two people you

need to listen to.

When Terrance Brown and Tiff any

Bostic-Brown sing—especially when

they sing together—it doesn’t matter

who you are, or what your interest in

music might be: you’ll stop and listen.

Part of the reason is that their voices

are so perfectly matched, but part of

it is that their voices are so expressive,

so rich, and so strong. If they happen

to sing a song from Porgy and Bess—

perhaps the song “Bess, You Is My

Woman Now”—it might make you

cry. Th ere’s power in that music, and

there’s power in their ability to convey

the depth of the emotions written in

the notes. It’s…well, it’s angelic.

Lucky for our region, these two share

their talents generously. Both Terrance

and Tiff any are assistant professors

of music at the University of North

Alabama. Th ey teach at the university,

they teach private lessons, they

perform, and they work to encourage

other young musicians to follow their

passion.

“We met in graduate school at LSU,”

says Tiff any, who is originally from

northern Virginia. Terrance is from

a small Alabama town called West

Brockton (so small that “it doesn’t even

©Shannon Wells


©Shannon Wells


have a stoplight,” he says with a laugh.) Th e Browns earned

their doctorates from LSU and taught private lessons, and

Terrance taught at Dillard University in New Orleans while

Tiff any was a member of the opera company and worked

in administration there in Baton Rouge. All the while, they

were performing as well. “When you’re a performer, it’s a

part of your soul,” says Tiff any.

Th ose performances have included some pretty spectacular

venues. Th e couple is in demand for their performances

of excerpts from Porgy and Bess, but love the memory of

singing the Brahms Requiem at Lincoln Center (in 2011) as a

part of Distinguished Concerts International at Avery Fisher

Hall. Th at certainly isn’t all they’ve done; their performances

span the country, and will include singing with the Huntsville

Symphony Orchestra on September 18 in a performance of

Vaughn Williams’s Sea Symphony.

If you’ve heard them sing, you understand why they are in such

demand. But there’s so much more to this talented couple, and

it begins with a story they want you to know about.

Early on the morning of September 15, 1963, as parishioners

were gathering for Sunday School at the 16th Avenue Baptist

Church in Birmingham, a bomb planted by members of the

Ku Klux Klan discharged and killed four young girls (Addie

Mae Collins, Carole Robertson, Cynthia Wesley, and Denise

McNair), injuring more than 20 others. It was one of the

darkest points of the Civil Rights Movement, and 14-year-

old Carolyn Maull (McKinstry), who was just feet away from

the worst of it, wrote a book as an adult, titled While the

World Watched: A Birmingham Bombing Survivor Comes of

Age During the Civil Rights Movement. Th at book sparked

something in the Browns, and they decided it was a story

they wanted to tell. But they added another component:

they tell the story and use it as a means to raise scholarship

money for young singers.

“Th e Muscle Shoals area is so deeply rooted in music. We

see a lot of undiscovered talent,” says Tiff any. “Because music

is so prevalent, it’s not an unusual idea to consider it as a

career.” So, as a mentorship program, the Browns created

Solas, a vocal ensemble of 18 singers who tour, and whose

repertoire relies heavily on African American spirituals.

Th en, with the help of Kevin Th omas and Greg Patterson,

they created Walk With Me, a musical narrative that tells the

story of the 16th Street Baptist Church and that fateful day,

52 years ago. Terrance produced the musical, and Tiff any

When we do what we love, it makes us happy in our spirit, and that makes us better teachers, better parents, better friends, and better performers.” —Tiff any Bostic-Brown

©Patrick Hood

Facing page: Tiff any Bostic-Brown performs with the Shoals Symphony at UNA. Above: Terrance Brown is the conductor/artistic director for the Solas ensemble. For more information, visit www.walkwithmefoundation.org.


selected the songs; narration tells the story. (Carolyn Maull

McKinstry narrated one of the fi rst performances, which

was a highly emotional experience for her, for the singers,

and for the audience.)

Walk With Me has been performed twice in North Alabama,

and the hope is that it can be broadcast to a larger audience,

possibly even through a televised performance for public

television. Solas performed its fi rst time in the Shoals in 2013

as a part of the UNA history department’s presentation of

the 50th anniversary of desegregation at the university; their

second performance was later that year at the Ritz Th eatre

in Sheffi eld, followed by concerts in Tupelo, Hattiesburg, and

Starkville, Mississippi. Additional programs are planned,

and the group is revamping its program and practicing.

With the help of local attorney Tim Corley, a non-profi t

foundation was created, and the Walk With Me Foundation

now actively raises money to provide mentorship for high

school singers. Education is Walk With Me’s core value,

and their goal is to choose fi ve high school students each

year and provide private instruction to teach them how to

refi ne their voices and perform. (Th is year, their funds allow

them to mentor two students.) Students are chosen through

audition and through recommendations from area choral

directors and teachers, and although the fi nalists are not

chosen based on social or economic circumstances, you

can tell the Browns are delighted when they are able to help

someone who otherwise might not have the chance. “It’s

mostly to provide encouragement,” says Terrance, “especially

because many times families are reluctant to encourage a

Many times families are reluctant to encourage a child to make a career this way. We want to show them what’s possible.” —Terrance Brown

©Shannon Wells


Facing page: Tiff any Bostic-Brown performs on the Norton Auditorium stage for the UNA Faculty Grand Recital. Above: Baritone Terrance Brown performs with the Shoals Symphony at UNA.

©Shannon Wells


child to make a career this way. We

want to show them what’s possible.”

Add a 14-month-old child, Copeland,

to the mix, and you’d think this couple

would have their hands full. But three

years ago, the Browns began talking to

the Huntsville Symphony Orchestra

about performing with them. “We

could never line it up until this year,”

says Terrance, “but fi nally we were able

to schedule an audition. We sang two

songs each for the audition committee,

and then sang a duet—and were hired.”

Th e couple will perform on September

18 in the season premier, singing Ralph

Vaughan Williams’s Sea Symphony.

Based on Walt Whitman’s Leaves

of Grass, the Browns describe the

orchestral work as “rich, full, patriotic,

and very melodic,” even though it

was written in the early 1900s and

is considered a fairly contemporary

work; the duo will be joined by the

Huntsville Community Chorus and the

full Huntsville Symphony Orchestra,

now in its 61st season.

Th e Browns are heavily involved in

the music program at UNA, of course,

helping to stage the recent production

of Mozart’s Th e Magic Flute. Plans are underway to perform Viradot’s Cendrillion (Cinderella) and

Sondheim’s Into the Woods in the next season, great news for vocal students and area audiences alike.

“When you become a parent, you have to become better at delegating and prioritizing,” saysTiff any, but

it certainly hasn’t slowed these two down. “When we do what we love, it makes us happy in our spirit,”

she says, “and that makes us better teachers, better parents, better friends, and better performers.” If

you have a chance, make time to listen to these two with their angelic voices. It’s apparent their spirits

are very happy.

Solas, the perform-ing ensemble for the Walk With Me Foundation, per-forms locally and tours the South.

©Patrick Hood


Join us on a musical journey for the 2015-2016 season.

For tickets or information: 256-539-4818 or hso.org

LAS VEGAS

Halloween MagicGreat for the entire family — Illu-sionist Michael Grandinetti joins the HSO for an evening of music and MAGIC! Join us on our musical journey for this fun event!

Friday, October 30, 20157:30 p.m.

Mark C. Smith Concert Hall, VBCGregory Vajda, Music Director and Conductor

Michael Grandinetti, Illusionist


text by allen tomlinson » photos by patrick hood

We all know the horror stories about sugar and

how bad it is for us. But there’s another side to the sugar

story—and it’s pretty sweet.

Imagine, for a moment, that you are a soldier, deployed to

Afghanistan. In this high-tech world, your cell phone, GPS,

and other electronic tracking devices are vitally important to

your mission. But keeping the batteries charged so that these

devices work properly is quite a challenge, and can even pose

a danger.

Th e traditional way to handle this is to bring generators and

diesel fuel to your base camp to power up those devices.

Th at might be the way it’s been done for years, “but it cre-

ates several problems,” says Sameer Singhal of CFD Research

Corporation (CFDRC) in Huntsville. “For one, the presence

of generators and diesel fuel create ‘signatures’ that might

give your position away to the enemy, since the generators

create smoke, smell, heat, and noise. Secondly, it takes a lot

of diesel to run those generators, when you could really be

charging your phone using the sugars in a Gatorade or a soft

drink—or even with a pack of sugar.”


Charging your devices using sugar?

Yes—and it gets better. A typical GPS

system uses 24 AA batteries. One can

of Coca-Cola provides the energy

equivalent of 72 AA batteries—which

is amazing, since one Coke can power

three GPS devices (and a little horri-

fying when you consider the amount

of sugar you’re consuming when you

drink that Coke). A four-gram pack of

sugar is equivalent to 6 AA batteries.

And transporting soft drinks or sugar

packets is a lot easier than transporting

heavy fuel and generators.

As amazing as this research is to an out-

sider, it seems to be the normal course

of business at CFDRC. Dr. Vincent

Harrand, one of the fi rm’s vice presi-

dents, explains that the company came

into being in the late 1980s as a part of

the aerospace boom in Huntsville. Spe-

cifi cally, the company was formed after

the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded

in 1986, and Sameer’s father, Dr. Ashok

Singhal, a leading scientifi c expert in

the study of airfl ow, was recruited to

study alternatives to the O-rings that

failed and caused that disaster. From

that beginning, the company has spent

three decades working in biotech, en-

ergy, materials, and research arenas,

and has earned two Small Business As-

sociation Tibbets Awards for Technol-

ogy Commercialization and a host of

other innovation awards.

It’s also led to the study of various other types of “fl ow.” “Blood fl ow is similar

to air fl ow,” says Sameer, “so we have been looking into biomedical applications,

such as heart valves and the possibility of a pacemaker that is powered by the

sugars in your blood.” Today, a patient with a pacemaker can look forward to an

operation every fi ve to seven years to replace the device because the batteries are

depleted. Your body already regenerates glucose in the bloodstream, and Sameer

thinks the day is close when pacemakers will be internally powered for the en-

Facing page: A fan is powered using the energy from a Gatorade. Above: a series of bio-batteries in a Bio-Cell™


Microfl uidic chips can allow a doctor to test medicines on cancer cells to gauge eff ectiveness before giving the medications to the patient. It’s a step toward personalizing medicines based on a patient’s unique DNA. Facing page: Sameer Singhal (top, right) and Vincent Harrand.

“you could really be charging your phone using the sugarsin a Gatorade or a soft drink—or even with a pack of sugar.”

Sameer Singhal

september/october | noalastudios.com | september/october | noalastudios.com |

tire life of the patient. CFDRC is also

researching neuro-stimulators, for use

with epileptic patients, and for use with

soldiers returning from battle who suf-

fer memory loss from PTSD or trau-

matic brain injury.

When Vincent and Sameer talk about

the variety of applications their re-

search has impacted, and discuss the

myriad of problems still to be solved, it’s

obvious that they are passionate about

what they are doing. “We’re a people

company,” says Sameer, “and we like to

hire good people and put them to work

on things they are naturally interested

in, and then empower them to do some

pretty wonderful things.” From the

company’s beginnings in a basement of

a home in southeast Huntsville, to the

expansive corporate headquarters on

McMillian Way in Research Park with

close to 100 employees, the company

has experienced some phenomenal

growth.

| noalastudios.com | september/october | noalastudios.com | september/october


It’s not enough to just research a problem; the true impact is

felt when products and systems are created that solve those

problems in practical ways. Th at’s what CFDRC scientists

spend their time doing—researching and developing prod-

ucts and systems that are then brought to market. One de-

veloped technology, called CFD-ACE+ (for Computational

Fluid Dynamics), allows for computer simulations of fl uid

fl ow, heat transfer, and chemical reaction processes; those

simulations have helped develop and improve heart valves,

studied the mechanics of the inner ear (especially important

for hearing loss in the military, for example), improved fuel

nozzles for aircraft engines, and improved climate control

systems and diesel fuel injectors for automotive companies.

One such area of research resulted in a spin-off company,

called SynVivo, LLC. Th is company creates microfl uidic

chips, which use a cancer patient’s own cells to test the results

of certain drugs or drug combinations. Because these chips

allow testing to take place outside the patient’s body, a doctor

can see if the medicines are working, can see how the cells

react to the medications, and can take corrective action—

all without actually experimenting on the patient. Once the

proper combinations and doses of medicine are determined

and tested through the use of these chips, the treatment can

be administered to the patient—with predictable outcomes.

It’s a gigantic step toward the day when medicines are per-

sonalized to each patient based on his or her individual DNA.

(For more details, visit www.synvivobio.com.)

Much of the bio-engineering side of CFDRC has been done

as an associate company of HudsonAlpha Institute for Bio-

technology. In fact, CFDRC was one of the fi rst companies to

locate on the HudsonAlpha campus, right next door and to

the north of HudsonAlpha’s main building on Genome Way.

CFDRC’s work in enzymatic fuel cells (batteries that run on

sugars), microfl uidic chips, optical and electrical sensors for

the detection of chemical and biological agents, and custom

software tools—developed, essentially, to measure “fl ow” of

one type or another—are consistent with HudsonAlpha’s

mission to create a collaborative culture that fosters creativ-

ity and makes the world better.

Even though CFDRC is involved in a lot of diff erent things,

according to Vincent, there is still work to be done. “We are

working on wearable electronics and sensors for the mili-

tary,” he says, “and our method is to conduct the research

and development and then see if we can develop real-world

applications. Huntsville is a great location because so many

of our customers are nearby, and there is a great talent pool

here. We see opportunity in the development of biomedical

devices to fi ght disease, and in the fi eld of energy, including

portable energy devices that can be used for disaster relief.”

Whether they are focused on aerospace and defense proj-

ects, biomedical devices, or the continued research and

development of batteries that run on sugar, the company is

already having a major impact on the way people live. Th e

cancer patient whose doctor can test medicines through a

chip before administering them, the soldier who is a little

safer because his GPS system is charged by a soft drink, and

the heart patient whose pacemaker will never have to be re-

placed might not know who the people at CFDRC are, but

their lives are better because of them.

“Blood flow is similar to air flow, so we have been looking intobiomedical applications, such as heart valves and the possibility

of a pacemaker that is powered by the sugars in your blood.” Sameer Singhal

Let’s face it—the gym can be a pretty intimidating space. And

for many people, the anxiety alone of that fi rst gym visit can be

enough to make them break out into a sweat before they even

set foot through the door. But the variety and versatility of fi tness

routines and spaces has never been more readily available to those

looking to make a positive health change, and no longer are exercisers

limited to just aerobics classes and free weights at the gym. To see what’s out there,

we sought out some of Huntsville’s best-loved exercise experts and discovered that

there has truly never been a better time to start sweating it out.

GETTING FIT IN THE GREAT OUTDOORS: JOE MARTIN

Th e term “Adventure Boot Camp” sounds a little like something that might involve

a drill sergeant and the need to have a fi rst aid kit at the ready. It certainly doesn’t

sound like anything fun could come of it when it takes place at 5:30 a.m. Fortu-

nately for most of us who aren’t early risers, former Army Recreation and Wel-

fare trainer and Huntsville’s Adventure Boot Camp creator Joe Martin has several

other boot camp time slots available throughout the week for what he insists is all

good, healthy fun in the great outdoors.

“It’s all outside,” says Martin, “and we focus on the ‘fun’ part. No matter how ef-

fective something is, if it’s miserable you won’t come back. I don’t want people to

dread their workout.”

Once out of shape and overweight, Martin lost 50 pounds and felt fantastic,

which inspired him to want to do something more to help others. Martin began

working for the Army right after college and began to see that the gyms where

he worked and trained weren’t always the most welcoming spaces for people

looking to get into shape, especially if those people were women. “I went to the

gym and saw women look around and then just never come back,” he says. “I just

wanted to build a workout community where women felt like no one was look-

ing at or judging them.”

text by sara wright covington » photos by patrick hood

Facing page: Joe Martin, best-selling fi tness author and creator of Huntsville Adventure Boot Camp for Women



Now in his sixth year of designing boot

camps for women, Martin has also au-

thored the best-selling book and brands

his fi tness empire with the mantra “Re-

lentless Positivity.” Using many basic

exercises and techniques that are often

the foundation of elementary school

P.E. classes, Martin likes to change

things up, and takes his adventures out

of the gym into elementary schools,

dance studios, playgrounds, tracks, and

even parking lots. Each class is also

carefully crafted so that anyone of any

fi tness level can take part and receive

the maximum benefi t from each ses-

sion. “For each exercise we off er, we

do a regular, a low impact, and then a

higher-impact way to make it harder,”

says Martin. “Th at way people of all

shapes and abilities can get something

that benefi ts them.”

Martin says his average client is in

her 40s and 50s, but the total range

of all of his clients ranges from their

20s to their 70s. Although he does a

few mixed men and women training

groups, Martin is adamant that his best

clients through the years are always

the women. “Women just make much

better clients,” he says. “Th ey are more

committed. Th ey listen better. Guys

don’t like other guys telling them what

to do. And women gel as a team more

quickly. Th ey also focus on form versus

handling a bunch of weight.”

Martin off ers classes fi ve to six days

a week with full body workouts, and

every class promises something unique, including a monthly award ceremo-

ny presentation he calls “Th e Big Girl Panties Award.” Th e women vote on the

class member who has displayed exceptional guts and gumption throughout the

month’s classes. “Th is award is for the people who show up every day, work hard,

don’t complain, and always give their best,” says Martin. “And it’s not up to me.”

Martin invites anyone with a desire to get in better shape to try his boot camps,

and commitments range from one year to simple month-to-month agreements.

Mostly, he just wants to encourage women to take an active role in getting their


bodies and minds into the best form

possible, with a dedication and that re-

lentless positivity he keeps at the cen-

ter of his fi tness pursuits. “I am help-

ing people who have been taking care

of others for years, whether it’s a job

or family,” he says. “And after focusing

on taking care of other people for 20 or

30 years, now they can focus on taking

care of themselves.”

THE SWEAT LIFE: JEIDI PIPPIN

For nearly three years now, former

grade school teacher and fi tness entre-

preneur Jeidi Pippin has been training

Huntsville to “Th ink. Train. Live. Dif-

ferently.” After she noticed her usual

fi tness routine was no longer working

for her, and the demands of balanc-

ing work with motherhood increased,

Pippin decided to take a step back to

evaluate how to incorporate positive

change into her entire lifestyle. “In my

late 20s, my normal workout routine

of running just stopped working,” says

Pippin. “I started to gain weight, and I

was freaking out because my 10 year

reunion was approaching. I told my

husband I wanted a personal trainer for

my birthday.”

Pippin fell in love with weight train-

ing, and soon realized that her new

love could also be a new window

of teaching opportunity, especially

when Pippin and her husband pre-

pared for the birth of their second

child. “I knew I was either going to become a bad mom, a bad wife, or a bad

teacher. So I took a year’s leave and got my personal training certification. I

had been doing weight training for five years or so, and I still loved it.” Jeidi

spent time doing personal training in her home, but her husband encouraged

her to take things to the next level.

Th e couple were in the process getting approval to begin Sweat but were still ner-

vous to make the leap when Jeidi’s husband lost his job. “Th at unfortunate event

propelled things to that level,” says Pippin. “I don’t know that I would have been

Adventure Boot Camp is unique because Martin conducts his classes in less conven-tional spaces than the gym, often holding classes in church parking lots, playgrounds, and parks.


“I NEED YOU TO WALK IN AND GET THE SPIRIT THAT IS AT SWEAT. IT IS VERY NON-JUDGMENTAL HERE. NOBODY CARES IF YOU ARE DOING YOUR LUNGES WITH 5 LBS. OR 25 LBS. NO ONE IS SAYING ‘SHE’S BETTER THAN I AM.’

WE JUST HAVE THAT UNDERSTANDING HERE.”JEIDI PIPPIN


brave enough had that not happened

right when it did! So we opened Octo-

ber of 2012.”

Jeidi uses the same principles she used

in her school classroom at Sweat as

well, and each day class participants will

know what to expect by what she calls

her “lesson plan” that she writes on the

board. What you won’t fi nd on her board

are lists of individual names and statis-

tics. “It’s really non-competitive here,”

she says. “We don’t put names on walls

because it’s not about who did what the

fastest. Sometimes it’s about going slow-

ly. Some people come in super competi-

tive, and they can get injured.”

Pippin is also candid about her own

struggles with self-image and how

battling an eating disorder has helped

her to realize that extremes are not

the answer with food or with physical

training. She admits that at one point

she was headed into what she calls a

“very ugly place” when her own trainer

pointed out her dangerous behavior,

and she realized positive change had to

happen. Pippin blogs about her jour-

ney with exercise and food regularly,

and how her motto to think, train, and

live diff erently all must fi rst begin with

mindset. And as the mother of young

children, a mirror is literally placed in

front of her daily as her children learn

about body image. “I blogged not too

long ago about having to catch myself,

when I was giving my daughter a bath,”

she says. “I remember she was watch-

ing me pinch fat in the mirror. She stopped playing to watch me and I thought ‘she

is learning to hate herself.’”

Pippin fully believes in using the transparency of her struggle with her training,

and speaks openly about how Sweat is a place where people of all shapes, size, and

fi tness levels can come together in a positive space to train. “I really want people

to be at peace with where they are, even it’s not their ideal place,” she says. “Th is is

a process and a journey for everyone, no matter what place they are.”

Jeidi Pippin of Sweat has made it her goal to create a space where both men and women of all ages and fi tness conditions can work together in a healthy, non-competitive environment full of encouragement and positive energy.


Sweat off ers a vast variety of classes, including metabolic

classes with stretch and cardio, creative boot camps, and

even classes using rowers, punching bags, battle ropes, and

medicine balls. Sweat members range from teenagers to 75

year olds. And although everyone who enters the doors of

Sweat should want to make positive change and take their

physical form to the next level, Pippin mainly wants it to be

a place where anyone can just feel accepted. “Everybody’s

fi rst class is free,” she says. “I need you to walk in and get

the spirit that is at Sweat. It is very non-judgmental here.

Nobody cares if you are doing your lunges with 5 lbs. or 25

lbs. No one is saying ‘she’s better than I am’. We just have that

understanding here.”

FAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE IT FIT: MICHAEL HELMS

Former software engineer and Huntsville native Michael

Helms had always joked that he wanted to retire at 40. But

when long, stressful days of corporate meetings, computer

screens, and PowerPoint presentations actually began to

take a toll on his physical health, he made retirement from

Michael Helms left behind an 18 year corporate career of computers and boardrooms when he began to see the eff ect of stress on his own physical well-being. Now he has made a new career of creating individual fi tness programs specifi cally designed for each person after a personalized assessment. He also teaches a variety of fi tness classes for people of all ages and physical conditions.


“I LOVE HEARING PEOPLE’S BACK STORIES AND FINDING OUTWHAT MAKES THEM TICK. I KNEW WHEN I LEFT MY JOB I WANTED TO

DO SOMETHING THAT WOULD BE CHALLENGING. I’VE GOT THAT,AND NOW I ACTUALLY GET TO SEE CHANGE.”

MICHAEL HELMS


“For every client I start out with I have an assessment,” he says.

“And that’s so I can build a program with them. I don’t want to

get bored by having all 15 clients on the same program. I’ve

had clients on their 96th program and I’ve never duplicated

one. You have to design programs for that individual.”

One of his favorite classes is his TRX class (Total Body Re-

sistance Exercise), which he actually fell into teaching on

a whim when an instructor was needed at the last minute.

“Th ey needed an instructor,” says Helms. “And I had never

even taken the class before. Th is was on a Th ursday and I got

certifi ed on a Saturday and had my fi rst class on a Monday.

It was defi nitely a fake it till you make it type thing at fi rst,

but I love what this class does for your core. And this type of

training has eliminated my back pain.”

Busier now than he has ever been, Helms can be found most

days teaching boot camps, suspension training classes, and

personal training at SportsMed Huntsville and University

Fitness Center. His client base is broad, ranging in age from

14 to 72, and he says it’s their personal stories that help him

to drive each and every client to push for their personal best

each time. Now more at home in his career at the gym than

he ever was in the corporate world, Helms may be in a very

diff erent line of work, but has been able to keep the thrill of

challenge without the crippling level of stress. And his very

favorite part is that he can see the positive physical changes

he is helping to create. “I love hearing people’s back stories

and fi nding out what makes them tick,” he says. “Some peo-

ple are rehabbing, coming off of injuries. Others have never

worked out before, and they are terrifi ed. But I’ve got a 67

year old doing dead lift rows, and my youngest client is 14 and

he has packed on 10 lbs. I knew when I left my job of 18 years

I wanted to do something that would be challenging. I’ve got

that, and now I actually get to see change.”

corporate America a reality, leaving the board room behind

to turn physical fi tness into both a lifestyle and a new career.

“After college, I started working for a small company. Th ey

needed sales, marketing, management, and tech support,”

says Helms. “It was such a tight group. Th e company was

growing a lot, though, and was eventually acquired. After

the fi rst six months of acquisition, I knew I had to get out.

Th e company was not doing great, and that adds a tremen-

dous amount of stress. I went for a physical, and although

I’ve always had an arrhythmia, it had worsened enough to

where they sent me for a stress test. Th e stress of that job

just aff ected everything. It was a good paying job that I had

enjoyed somewhat for a long time, but I knew had to fi nd

something else to do.”

So after 18 years with the same company, Helms walked

away to spend some time trying to determine his next steps,

and he knew he wanted to do something where he could bet-

ter manage his stress level and interact with and help others.

Helms decided to take his love for physical fi tness and help-

ing others to the next level and get his certifi cation to do per-

sonal training. Th is took many months, and he even faced

starting at the very bottom again to begin his new career.

“It took about eight months to get my personal certifi cation

training and then UAH let me come in and work there,” he

says. “I started there as a fi t tech at minimum wage, which

meant I was literally sweeping fl oors, but I just wanted to get

my foot in the door at the gym. My thought was to turn those

relationships into personal training clients.”

A year and a half later, Helms teaches an average of about

10 fi tness classes per week and holds at least 14 individual

training sessions weekly for personal training clients. And

although he no longer spends his days in the boardroom,

Helms says those research and presentation skills are really

what help to set him apart as a personal trainer and a teacher.

“I AM HELPING PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN TAKING CARE OFOTHERS FOR YEARS, WHETHER IT’S A JOB OR FAMILY. AND AFTER FOCUSING

ON TAKING CARE OF OTHER PEOPLE FOR 20 OR 30 YEARS, NOW THEY CANFOCUS ON TAKING CARE OF THEMSELVES.”

JOE MARTIN


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74 » the vine » Amy C. Collins

OYSTER WINES

Though the old rule of oyster eating strictly in the months that end in R is archaic, this is the ideal season for dining al fresco; both our bodies and the wine glass can relax sweat-free.

My appreciation for the oyster reaches back to childhood, when my father would host

family gatherings on our Florida patio. Th e sack of Apalachicola harvest seemed a tower of exotic

creatures to me, and I remember watching him hold each bivalve in one rubber-gloved hand, while

working the fl at knife between the top and bottom shell with the other. But I wouldn’t eat them, the taste

too pungent for my young palate. True desire came late. Th rough my 20s and early 30s, I coveted the

elation my dining partners expressed when washing down the raw mollusks with a delicate Champagne

or sea-hinted Muscadet, two wines I’d fallen for long before the sweet brine of the oyster. Th en, fi nally,

one day I tried again, and was hooked. For those of us who love them, we love them immensely, for the

exquisite luxury as much for the cold beverage that follows.

Th ough the old rule of oyster eating strictly in the months that end in R is archaic, this is the ideal

season for dining al fresco; both our bodies and the wine glass can relax sweat-free. We can take our

time on each one without worry the ice bed will melt or the wine turn tepid. Hemingway captured the

essence of such a moment in his Paris memoir, A Moveable Feast. “As I ate the oysters with their strong

taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea

taste and the succulent texture, and as I drank their cold liquid from each shell and washed it down with

the crisp taste of the wine, I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy and to make plans.”

Which brings us to the essential question, Which white wine should we plan to drink with oysters? As

with all food and wine pairings, we’re looking for balance and compliments. Crisp light-bodied whites

won’t compete with the meaty texture of the oyster, where, for example, a big buttery chardonnay will

fi ght it. Wines with a little salinity, like Muscadet or Vinho Verde will echo the salty fl avors and smooth

out the metallic fi nish. Another steadfast trick to use is to look at the regions of the world that make

white wine and harvest seafood. Th e Atlantic coast in northern France, Basque country in northern

Spain, and just across the border, Portugal. Champagne and

Chablis are further inland, but their vines grow on

ancient bedrock of fossilized sea creatures,

and their stainless steel production

without malolactic fermentation

make them perfect mates for the

beloved mollusks.

Below are some of my current

favorites. You can fi nd them

in North Alabama at your

favorite retailer store (and if

not these, certainly cousins

from the same regions) and at

go-to oyster joints, Th e Bottle


and Mezza Luna in Huntsville and, on Th ursday nights,

Odette in downtown Florence.

Muscadet is the area in France that sits just south of Nantes,

at the mouth of the Loire river where the Atlantic Ocean

infl uence dominates the weather. Muscadet is made from 100

percent melon de bourgogne, the native white wine grape

there. Many of them are bottled with a little zip of carbon

dioxide alongside a bright tang and sometimes slightly saline

fl avors. Drunk very cold, it is a star for oyster pairing.

Try producers Chateau Ragotiere and Chateau la Bourdiniere.

Chablis is another favorite for late afternoons and shellfi sh.

Made from 100 percent chardonnay (which many drinkers

don’t realize) north of Burgundy in stainless steel, which

allows the grape to reveal it

s true, unadulterated self. What better match for the naked

bivalve?

Try producers Simmonet-Febvre, everything from the

smaller appellation Petit-Chablis to their lovely Grand

Crus, and Domaine du Chantemerle Boudin.

Back to the Loire Valley, Cheverny is a small appellation

just outside of Touraine proper, where they grow primarily

sauvignon blanc, and off er great values compared to Sancerre

further east. Chardonnay and chenin blanc are also grown to

some extent for the white wines.

Try Domaine du Salvard Cheverny.

If Europe isn’t your bag or you’re looking for more aromatic

fruit and less saline-mineral notes, look to New Zealand for

super crisp sauvignon blancs that off er passionfruit and ripe

grapefruit aromas that fi nish dry. They love shellfi sh.

Try Dog Point in Marlborough and Mt. Beautiful sauvignon blanc in North

Canterbury.

Follow Amy at pigandvine.com for morestories and wine suggestions.

76 » bless their hearts » Guy McClure, Jr.

I started college too young. Because of a Septem-

ber birthday, I was only 17 when I left my tiny home-

town of Athens in a fully packed MG and drove to

Florence to start my freshman year at the University

of North Alabama. I was brutally shy and immature,

but I knew I had to leave the proverbial nest. Petri-

fi ed, I drove west on Highway 72 and crossed the Elk

River Bridge. I became determined to make the best

of things in the manner of Candide, which thankfully

had been required reading just a few months before.

Athens had not really been that kind to me growing up, but it was

all I knew. It did serve as my home base, a place to answer when I would get the in-

evitable question, “Where are you from?” It was nice enough, I guess, but it wasn’t a good fi t. Our family

had moved there from Huntsville when I was six and we never felt as if it was home, or at least I didn’t.

I was lucky enough to have experienced a somewhat well-traveled life to that point, but it was al-

ways traveling with a crowd, and this journey was solo. I had purposely chosen UNA because

none of the friends in my class were going there. I liked the thought of a fresh start, and unbe-

knownst to me, I would have these solo journeys into new towns six more times in my life—so far.

I crossed the Shoals Creek Bridge white knuckled. Back then it was a skinny, two lane passage and the

traffi c had already picked up. Th ings were starting to move faster. I didn’t know if I was ready for that.

As I entered Florence I tuned the radio to WQLT, the local top 40 station. Th is was 1979 at

the end of the disco era, so it was a time of ballads. Good, heartfelt ones that seemed to tell sto-

ries of new starts, metamorphoses, and fi nding oneself. I had listened to this Florence station

at night in Athens. Th e signal grew stronger as night when other AM stations left the air at dusk.

I liked listening to what was happening 45 miles to the west. It was foreign and exotic to me.

Th e airwaves at 107.3 on the dial were fi lled with jingles from places I didn’t know and a re-

play show of 50s music on Saturday night. It also included commentaries by local evangelists

Haskell Sparks and David Sain. Th is always puzzled me as they seemed to always follow Don-

na Summer in their rotation, strategically placed, I’m thinking, to counteract her lusty lyrics.

Traveling further west on Florence Boulevard, “Sail On” by the Commodores came on the radio as

I pulled into the Krystal parking lot. Th e song was about leaving one life and starting a new one. It

was actually about Lionel Ritchie leaving a relationship, but I let the ballad play to fi t my needs. As

I sat in that overloaded sports car and listened to that amazing song, I started to cry. I didn’t know

why, but what I did know was that I couldn’t go back and I didn’t want to go forward. What I wanted

was to go away; I wanted to go north or south instead of east or west and become lost in the world.

I couldn’t go back and I didn’t want to go forward. What I wanted was to go away; I wanted to go north or south instead of east or west and become lost in the world.

I s

be

to

F

o

b

Athens h

all I knew. It did serve as m

it bl ti “Wh f ?” It

SAIL ON


Th ree tiny hamburgers later, I composed myself, took a

deep breath, and continued the few miles towards the

college. I can still remember the feeling of pulling into

the Rivers Hall loading zone and seeing others, just like

me, who were arriving at a new place for the fi rst time.

After checking in on the ground fl oor, I traveled to the

seventh fl oor to fi nd my dorm room. I unloaded the

car, and started the normal process of settling in, which

was completely abnormal for me. I guess that meant I

was a college student from that moment on, and it re-

ally didn’t take long until everything fell into place.

About an hour in to the unpacking process, a crackly

voice came out of an up-until-then-unnoticed speaker

in the wall of my dorm room. “You have a call on phone

three.” I tried to answer the phantom voice back with

“What’s a phone three?” but to no avail. I walked into the

hall and noticed a bank of dial-less phones near the el-

evator. I picked up the third one and heard my mother’s

voice, checking to make sure I had made it and that I had

everything I needed. Yep, now I was a college student.

Both Florence and UNA have given me many happy memo-

ries and good friends. After returning to Athens after years of

wanderlust, I enjoy taking that same path and crossing over

the Elk River and Shoals Creek bridges whenever I can. Each

time, as I come into Florence and pass that familiar spot on

the Boulevard, I remember that August day 36 years ago, and

I especially remember that song—that wonderful, slow, pull-

at-your-hearstrings song by the Commodores about new

beginnings that petrifi ed and excited me at the same time.

On a recent trip I pulled into that familiar Krystal parking

lot. Th e building had not changed; it had not been remod-

eled as usually happens to these type of places. My mem-

ory was so vivid that I actually remembered where I had

parked that day and pulled into the same spot. I reached

for my phone and searched iTunes and found it—“Sail On”

by the Commodores for 99 cents. After a quick download

it started to play those familiar opening staccato notes

and then Lionel’s voice took me back to an uncertain time.

It was as if I was sitting in that little green car—that little

green ship that I sailed from one point of my life to another.

After a few minutes of deep thought, I started to cry. I

thought about each time I had set sail on those types of jour-

neys and what the outcomes had been. Th en I composed

myself, ordered three tiny hamburgers, and drove west.

78 » parting shot » Dustin Timbrook

FLYING MONKEY COMMUNITY GARDEN

No’Ala Huntsville, September/October 2015

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