Today was one of those days where at the end of it, you sit back and reflect…almost in disbelief as to the perfection of it. I started off the day with plans to haul some more brush from the Price/Scarborough Cemetery, to the dump in Buxton. For the most part, Jennifer Creech and I, accomplished what we had set out to do. But the end of our day had an unexpected curve to it.
Jenn and I stopped by the house of a native Kinnakeeter. At this point, we’re keeping his name out of this blog for privacy reasons. Our visit with him became one of where I found my jaw, time after time, needing to be picked up off the floor. This man with such a vast knowledge of local historical knowledge, became someone whose life will always be to me, a fascinating event that consist of places, people, and sites, that I can only dream of ever having seen.
He remembered working on the road which is now NC 12, with my Father…back in the 50’s. He remembered the storm of 44 and where all the houses that were taken out by the tide, ended up. He even showed us a photograph of the village, way back then. And there were others. I left his home, feeling like I felt a little more connection to the past of Hatteras Island.
Jen and I hope to return to visit with him and to chat more about his life and to document the history that so many who hail from Cape Hatteras, NC., cherish. And I will end this blog with a request. If you have an older family member who is still able to tell the stories of the past, pay attention. Write them down. Record them. Do what you can to preserve our ancestry and heritage.