Durham Moving Quotes

Real and proverbial doors had shut. Softly. I didn’t have to slam anything. The winds of change did that for me.

Ravens taught me to pay attention. The desert taught me to see. Art and artists taught me to see more…and better…and to appreciate, savor, and protect.

I think I might like to grow thorns. Tough spines that barb anyone who grabs at me, tries to take from me, moves toward me any way other than delicately. Or thick boney horns I can point in front of me to shield the soft, sensitive parts. Not cruel, protected.

Spiritual and psychological growth is not like an architectural structure that builds on a foundation. Sometimes we erect walls where they shouldn’t be or needn’t be when they bear no load. And, sometimes, the most forward-thinking course is to tear them down, leaving us nowhere to hide.

She sat, rediscovering the fullness of her first tongue in one long submersion. Again and again she would pause on a word Melio uttered. She would roll it around in her mind, feeling the contours of it. At times her mouth gaped open, her lips moving as if she were drinking in his words instead of breathing.

Nor could I fail to recall my friendship with Howard K. Beale, professor of American History at the University of North Carolina. There he was, one day in 1940, standing just outside my room in the men’s dormitory at St. Augustine’s, in his chesterfield topcoat, white silk scarf, and bowler hat, with his calling card in hand, perhaps looking for a silver tray in which to drop it. Paul Buck, whom he knew at Harvard, had told him to look me up. He wanted to invite me to his home in Chapel Hill to have lunch or dinner and to meet his family. From that point on we saw each other regularly. After I moved to Durham, he invited me each year to give a lecture on “The Negro in American Social Thought” in one of his classes. One day when I was en route to Beale’s class, I encountered one of his colleagues, who greeted me and inquired where I was going. I returned the greeting and told him that I was going to Howard Beale’s class to give a lecture. After I began the lecture I noticed that Howard was called out of the class. He returned shortly, and I did not give it another thought. Some years later, after we both had left North Carolina, Howard told me that he had been called out to answer a long-distance phone call from a trustee of the university who had heard that a Negro was lecturing in his class. The trustee ordered Beale to remove me immediately. In recounting this story, Beale told me that he had said that he was not in the habit of letting trustees plan his courses, and he promptly hung up. Within a few years Howard accepted a professorship at the University of Wisconsin. A favorite comment from Chapel Hill was that upon his departure from North Carolina, blood pressures went down all over the state.

Teaching what Jesus commanded is something we have not always done well. In fact, I have asked many people in ministry what Jesus commanded, and few have ever answered beyond love of God and neighbor. However, Jesus commanded many things as recorded in the four gospels (i.e. “Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out demons. Freely you have received, freely give.” – Matthew 10:8) Peter says that the Holy Spirit is given to those who obey. “And we are His witnesses to these things, and so also is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to those who obey Him.” (Acts 5:32) If we desire to operate in the gifts and power of the Holy Spirit, we must be obedient to the commands of the Lord. Virtually all of God’s promises are connected to obedience. John connects answered prayer to obedience and then makes it clear that we are not in Him, or He in us unless we obey His commands. “Dear friends, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have confidence before God and receive from him anything we ask, because we obey his commands and do what pleases him. And this is his command: to believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and to love one another as he commanded us. Those who obey his commands live in him, and he in them. And this is how we know that he lives in us: We know it by the Spirit he gave us.” (1 John 3:21-24, NIV) We have taught freedom from “the Law” so zealously, that an entire generation has believed that obedience is somewhat optional, and God will love us and bless us whether we obey or not. This is not a Biblical concept. It is true that we do not win our salvation through obedience or good works. However, if we want to stay in the blessing flow – if we want the prayer of faith to be answered – if we want to move in the gifts of the Spirit – if we want the favor of God, we must live in obedience to the commands of Christ.

We must remain aware that every time one or more of these seven Spirits begins to work in the church, the enemy moves in to block it.

Oh, yes," Father Mancuso nodded. "As Father Ryan mentioned, I've seen and heard many who've come to me as a psychotherapist and as a parish priest." Chancellor Ryan picked up the thread. "Then there are the so-called extraordinary activities of the devil in the world. Usually these are material things around a person that are affected; that might be what you're up against. We call it infestation. It breaks down into different categories which we'll explain in a minute." "Obsession," Father Nuncio put in, "is the next step, in which the person is affected either internally or externally. And finally there is possession, by which the person temporarily loses control of his faculties and the devil acts in and through him." When Father Mancuso had come to the Chancellors' office to keep his appointment, he had been somewhat embarrassed as to how to approach his problem. But he relaxed as the two priests had shown keen interest. Now with their spelling out the guidelines he must take in this kind of situation, Father Mancuso raised his hopes for deliverance from this evil. "In investigating cases of possible diabolical interference," Chancellor Ryan went on, "we must consider the following: One, fraud and deception. Two, natural scientific causes. Three, parapsychological causes. Four, diabolical influences. And five, miracles. In this case, fraud and trickery don't seem plausible. George and Kathleen Lutz seem to be normal, balanced individuals. We think you are too. The possibilities therefore are reduced to psychological, parapsychological, or diabolical influences." "We'll exclude the miraculous," Father Nuncio broke in, "because the Divine would not involve itself in the trivial and foolish." "True," said Father Ryan. "Therefore the explanation would seem to include hallucination and autosuggestion - you know, like the invisible touches Kathy experienced - and when George thought he heard that marching band. But let's take the parapsychological line. Parapsychologists like Dr. Rhine, who works at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina, define four main operations in the science. The first three come under the general heading of ESP-extrasensory perception. They are mental telepathy, clairvoyance, and precognition, which could explain George's visions and 'picking up' information that seems to coincide with known facts about the DeFeos. The fourth parapsychological area is psychokinesis, where objects move by themselves. That would be the case with the Lutzes' ceramic lion - if it did move," he added. Father Nuncio got up to refill his cup. "All of what we've said, Frank, is part of the suggestion we have for the Lutzes. Have them contact some investigative organization like Dr. Rhine's to come in and look at the house. They'll do extensive testing and I'm sure they can come to some conclusion short of diabolical influence.

Below the Tyne River in County Durham, the land slopes from west to east toward the sea, and from south to north into the Tyne Valley. Gravity would move a wagonload of coal down to the water, with a horse led along to haul the unloaded wagon back uphill. Flanges on the wagon wheels held the wagons on track so that they effectively steered themselves. On longer slopes, Galloway reports, a wheeled platform attached to the coal wagon conveyed the horse downhill, “thus making the cart carry the horse”—putting the cart before the horse, that is. Horses adjusted quickly to the arrangement, he noticed, and seemed to enjoy the ride.43

We may think our past is behind us. Yet, sometimes it is blatantly in our face. Moments, seemingly lost, become inextricably intertwined with consciousness in the Here and Now.

We may think our past is behind us. Yet, sometimes it is blatantly in our face. Moments, seemingly lost, become inextricably intertwined with consciousness in the Here and Now.

Dead ends and detours met me at every turn.

I had come full circle, from knowing nothing much about most everything at the start of my blind climb toward unimaginable heights to knowing nothing all over again and beginning to search for another trailhead on the mountain of wisdom.

The pilgrimage raised me from a place of hopelessness to one of hopefulness. As it had done each time I needed a spiritual rebirth, it offered strong medicine for my ailing psyche as it signaled the beginning of my next never-ending adventure and pulled and pushed me toward more parts of the unexplored and unknown.

It was a moment of awe. I considered the powerful appearance of the two ravens an immediate and true message from God. The magical encounter settled in my cells. I embraced the call to honor those messengers whose commanding presence showed me the link between a call to God and a response through nature.

Jacob Neuhanssen, lately a farmer out of Durham Falls, was discovered by a local physician, J. M. Keeler, to be in the process of hanging himself from a tree in front of his house. Keeler rushed to cut the suicide down, but in dropping to the ground Neuhanssen broke his leg. As the farmer was now unable to move, the physician ran to get his wagon to take the unfortunate fellow to his surgery. But in his haste, Keeler backed the wagon over Neuhanssen, killing him. No charges are to be laid against the physician.

You ready to see some wolves?” Ryan asks. He sounds like a proud parent. I nod. The only live red wolves I’d seen previously were display animals on exhibit at the Museum of Life and Science in Durham, North Carolina, and the North Carolina Zoo in Asheboro. I hope up and we stroll to a nearby pen, where two male red wolves pace nervously. It is hard to look at a leggy red wolf and not escape the thought that these animals are built to run. Their legs appear proportionally longer than those of a gray wolf. The brothers before me are about five feet long, if you include the tail. Burnt-umber red spreads out from their ears to their shoulders. Their muzzles look long and strong, their chest and waist are less heavyset than a gray wolf’s, and their tail is less bushy. “They look like they’re all legs,” I say. “They are a little more leggy than a coyote is, in comparison to their frame,” Ryan says. “Especially in summer, when their coat is shorter. It makes them look a lot longer and leaner.” Even though the brothers run along the fence in repetitive circles, they barely make a sound. I stand five feet away and yet can’t hear them pant. The sound of leaves stirring under their paws barely registers. Their movements are anxious, yet silent. We move on to the next pen, which holds a breeding pair and a three-month-old pup. We tiptoe around a corner to a break in the privacy screen. I peek through and see a male jammed against the back corner. He presses his body against the fence’s metal weave. The female paces furiously about ten feet in front of him. They stare at us. She paces back and forth, back and forth. Their pup spots us and then bolts along the far wall. He scrambles with his chest low to the ground, like a spooked house cat. He wriggles nose first between the fence and his dad, his ears pressed back. The little guy clasps his tail against his anus. “I can’t believe they’re so afraid of us,” I say. “Yeah, even the ones that grow up in captivity often do not ever lose their fear of people,” Ryan says. “It’s just some basic wild instinct that they maintain, that they haven’t lost.” Even though these animals are fed three times a week by human hands, they still get agitated when a person approaches. As I watch, the three-month-old puppy pushes deeper into his dad’s side. I feel guilty that our presence is causing such unease; then Ryan, along with the biting deer flies, prods us to move on.

I just watched Bull Durham with my kids. On a pro baseball team, the players have great relationships. These players are really close. They support one another. They celebrate together, console one another, and know each other’s plays so well that they can move as one without speaking. But they are not a family. The coach swaps and trades players in and out throughout the year in order to make sure they always have the best player in every position. Patty was right. At Netflix, I want each manager to run her department like the best professional teams, working to create strong feelings of commitment, cohesion, and camaraderie, while continually making tough decisions to ensure the best player is manning each post.

Sara said, feeling foolish.

To move into this new season you must let go of everything from the past. You must be especially diligent to let go of un-forgiveness, bitterness, strife, offense, and jealousy. These things cannot move into the new dimension, and their presence in your spirit and soul will hold you back. If you want to move with the Lord let go of everything that hinders. Forget what is behind! Press into what is ahead! We are receiving that upward calling right now.

ship built by English settlers in the New World. In 1607, at the mouth of the Kennebec River in Maine, the Plymouth Company erected a short-lived fishing settlement. A London shipwright named Digby organized some settlers to construct a small vessel with which to return them home to England, as they were homesick and disenchanted with the New England winters. The small craft was named, characteristically, the Virginia. She was evidently a two-master and weighed about thirty tons, and she transported furs, salted cod, and tobacco for twenty years between various ports along the Maine coast, Plymouth, Jamestown, and England. She is believed to have wrecked somewhere along the coast of Ireland.6 By the middle of the seventeenth century, shipbuilding was firmly established as an independent industry in New England. Maine, with its long coastline and abundant forests, eventually overtook even Massachusetts as the shipbuilding capital of North America. Its most western town, Kittery, hovered above the Piscataqua. For many years the towns of Kittery and Portsmouth, and upriver enclaves like Exeter, Newmarket, Durham, Dover, and South Berwick, rivaled Bath and Brunswick, Maine, as shipbuilding centers, with numerous shipyards, blacksmith shops, sawmills, and wharves. Portsmouth's deep harbor, proximity to upriver lumber, scarcity of fog, and seven feet of tide made it an ideal location for building large vessels. During colonial times, the master carpenters of England were so concerned about competition they eventually petitioned Parliament to discourage shipbuilding in Portsmouth.7 One of the early Piscataqua shipwrights was Robert Cutts, who used African American slaves to build fishing smacks at Crooked Lane in Kittery in the 1650s. Another was William Pepperell, who moved from the Isle of Shoals to Kittery in 1680, where he amassed a fortune in the shipbuilding, fishing, and lumber trades. John Bray built ships in front of

Few records exist to establish a definitive date as to when the first ships were built in the Piscataqua region. Fishing vessels were probably constructed as early as 1623, when the first fishermen settled in the area. Many undoubtedly boasted a skilled shipwright who taught the fishermen how to build “great shallops”as well as lesser craft. In 1631 a man named Edward Godfrie directed the fisheries at Pannaway. His operation included six large shallops, five fishing boats, and thirteen skiffs, the shallops essentially open boats that included several pairs of oars, a mast, and lug sail, and which later sported enclosed decks.5 Records do survive of the very first ship built by English settlers in the New World. In 1607, at the mouth of the Kennebec River in Maine, the Plymouth Company erected a short-lived fishing settlement. A London shipwright named Digby organized some settlers to construct a small vessel with which to return them home to England, as they were homesick and disenchanted with the New England winters. The small craft was named, characteristically, the Virginia. She was evidently a two-master and weighed about thirty tons, and she transported furs, salted cod, and tobacco for twenty years between various ports along the Maine coast, Plymouth, Jamestown, and England. She is believed to have wrecked somewhere along the coast of Ireland.6 By the middle of the seventeenth century, shipbuilding was firmly established as an independent industry in New England. Maine, with its long coastline and abundant forests, eventually overtook even Massachusetts as the shipbuilding capital of North America. Its most western town, Kittery, hovered above the Piscataqua. For many years the towns of Kittery and Portsmouth, and upriver enclaves like Exeter, Newmarket, Durham, Dover, and South Berwick, rivaled Bath and Brunswick, Maine, as shipbuilding centers, with numerous shipyards, blacksmith shops, sawmills, and wharves. Portsmouth's deep harbor, proximity to upriver lumber, scarcity of fog, and seven feet of tide made it an ideal location for building large vessels. During colonial times, the master carpenters of England were so concerned about competition they eventually petitioned Parliament to discourage shipbuilding in Portsmouth.7 One of the early Piscataqua shipwrights was Robert Cutts, who used African American slaves to build fishing smacks at Crooked Lane in Kittery in the 1650s. Another was William Pepperell, who moved from the Isle of Shoals to Kittery in 1680, where he amassed a fortune in the shipbuilding, fishing, and lumber trades. John Bray built ships in front of the Pepperell mansion as early as 1660, and Samuel Winkley owned a yard that lasted for three generations.8 In 1690, the first warship in America was launched from a small island in the Piscataqua River, situated halfway between Kittery and Portsmouth. The island's name was Rising Castle, and it was the launching pad for a 637-ton frigate called the Falkland. The Falkland bore fifty-four guns, and she sailed until 1768 as a regular line-of-battle ship. The selection of Piscataqua as the site of English naval ship construction may have been instigated by the Earl of Bellomont, who wrote that the harbor would grow wealthy if it supplemented its export of ship masts with “the building of great ships for H.M. Navy.”9 The earl's words underscore the fact that, prior to the American Revolution, Piscataqua's largest source of maritime revenue came from the masts and spars it supplied to Her Majesty's ships. The white oak and white pine used for these building blocks grew to heights of two hundred feet and weighed upward of twenty tons. England depended on this lumber during the Dutch Wars of the