I found this on genealogybank.com newspapers, in a Greensboro , North Carolina , newspaper,
The Greensboro Daily News, issue Tuesday , July 28, 1970, and read it since it had “Rehoboth Beach it's barren in Delaware” that caught my eye. It was an article titled “Meandering” and “The Never Ending Search” written by Jerry Bledsoe. After reading the article the question in my mind was “who the hell is he?”. Well he is an author, several books, magazine works, and such, a native of
North Caroline , in the 1970's living in Randolf county, where Ashboro is, along with the Pisgah
National Forrest. It appears that he and his family, the wife Linda, and son Erik, “searching” and got lost and stayed lost. Real lost. Here is his story;
The search, never ending, the column must come first, harder and harder, sometimes it just not there, tired, want to go home. This is the thought as we enter Delaware, and, as we leave Delaware.
Yesterday we came in Wilmington, got lost, and its not the most pleasant place to get lost. It's
not even a pleasant place to pass through, searching. Searching carried us through to a little village,
south of Wilmington, (probably Odessa), a restored colonial town, or maybe New Castle, as he thinks it is on the bay. Wandering, looking at the old buildings, ended at the bay. An old man and little boy were fishing, the old man was fishing, the boy too impatient, but when there was a strike he got the boy to reel it in. It was a cat fish, the old man said, the boy said “wow , it's a big one”, dropping the fish, line and all to the ground, running to a car to tell his mom all about catching a “cat fish'. We left, searching.
We went south, darkness fell upon us, ending today's search, and we found ourselves in
Rehoboth Beach, a sign said “The Nation Summer Capitol”. We camped at an over crowded campground on the ocean just south of town. The next morning, real early, because every one else was doing it, went fishing “on The Rocks”, which was fruitless, so back to the boardwalk. Still searching.
Erik and I walked the boardwalk, he looking in candy stores and toy displays, I found a store window full of bikinis. The sign said, “will allow the wearer to obtain an over all tan”. The search continues.
At the newspaper office, friendly and helpful people, but the best bet of my search was the local millionaire hotel owner, who is just everyday people, knocks around in old well worn work cloths, and had the story about one time when he was mowing the grass at the hotel a big shot guest drove up and yelled at him “ Hey boy, come get these bags; so he trotted right up and took the bags inside, and took the dollar tip. I don't know if I would know how to talk to a millionaire , even in
old ratty work cloths. Still the search went on .
We continued through more beach towns and other small towns in Delaware. On towards Maryland, there will be no column from Delaware. Quit I did, dammed if I would search anymore in Delaware said I. Linda could see I was depressed , tried to change the conversation , all while this guy on the radio is singing about flowers; “you know that you never bring me flowers anymore” she said. I pulled the camper off the road, set the breaks, got out, climbed a nearby sand dune, picked one dozen 'daiseys', carried them back and thrust them in the window “there”. She took them in the car and as I got in, she yells “ throw these things out fast, they got bugs all over them” I threw them out, saying “ well I tried”. One down the road, she touched my hand saying “ I appreciate the thought”. Still
It is way beyond me, how this fellow, searching, missed me.
Abstract: July 2017 HARRISON HOWETH. LEWES.