It happens at various times throughout the year that the city’s East and West Sides throw aside petty division in order to unite as Ladogans. Sporting events generally inspire unity all around the city as the eponymous high school has students from both sides of town (excluding those on the outskirts of the east and west). When the Ladoga High School football team advanced to the state regional tournament recently, it seemed that the entire city packed the stands to cheer them on. Because of the diversity of the city, it’s impossible to tell for sure without asking the players directly which side of town they lived on and once the players hit the field, the only thing that matters is the hunter green and gray. LHS got its colors from the abundance of vegetation in the city and they coupled it with gray because of the old stone roads in downtown that have since been upgraded to asphalt gray-black. LHS’s mascot, the Green Hurricanes, was chosen to replace the previous mascot, the Green Masters, which many found offensive because the name had been chosen when LHS was predominantly white to maintain an air of dominance over the black population. It was finally changed in the eighties after Hurricane Hugo blew through the town, and not before destroying the scoreboard at the football field that had proudly brandished the school’s mascot. Many saw it as a sign and supported the suggestion that the mascot be changed to the thing that forced progress we were too slow to insist for ourselves. The ‘Canes are an average team and their recent run to regionals was the furthest the team had advanced in the NC state 2A High School tournament in over a decade. Their regional bid ultimately ended in disappointment (the team almost upset the highly favored team from Monroe that has a strong athletic history), but the ‘Canes gave their fans a show that will not be soon forgotten. The ‘Canes quarterback, John Nelson, managed over a hundred rushing yards, and over three times as many passing yards. And he debuted an end zone dance at the game that people are still talking about.
Nelson is only a junior and he lives near the Northside Projects with his parents and three siblings. His mother provides resource assistance to teachers of special needs children at the nearby elementary school. His father works as a manager for a landscaping company and when I met him at the regional game that was held in Ladoga, he insisted that I talk to his son; “get him ready for ESPN.” Nelson is optimistic about his football prospects after high school because his leadership had produced a history making season and he was faster than any other quarterback, and most receivers, in the school’s conference. “I was looking forward to that regional game,” Nelson said. “I wanted it bad. Everybody was telling me that college coaches would be there. So many more colleges could have seen me if we won though.” Nelson is tall, 6’5” and built like a basketball player, so it’s no surprise that he often played basketball at the north side courts, where I met him to talk and to play a leisurely game. He has what appeared to be tattoos on each shoulder, but on closer examination, they were revealed to be brands. “I heated a clothes hanger and just held it on there long enough to leave a mark.” He had his jersey number, 19, on his right side, and his father’s, 91, on his left. “I want to make my father proud, I respect that he didn’t leave me like some of my friend’s dads, and he had 91 when he played at Fayetteville.” Even though he was carrying on his father’s legacy, Nelson’s dreams were all his own. He talked about football the way I think I used to talk about news and politics when I was his age. There’s a way that people dream about their future when they truly feel they have a calling. Nelson didn’t think he would become a professional football player, he knew that he would become one and he woke up everyday enacting the practical steps necessary to make it happen. “I don’t care if I don’t become the next Cam Newton, I can still be the next receiver he’s passing to, I can still get a ring. I want football to be my career. I just want to do it, and I hope that my best is good enough to give me and my family enough so I don’t have to work in a office, or sweat like my daddy for less than I deserve.” Nelson is a smart guy, so imagine my shock when he told me that he had a C average in school. “I do good in math, but I don’t like to read. It’s just boring. But I’m working on bringing it up, I got to do well on my SAT.” I asked him if he felt that football made attention to school more difficult. “Honestly, no. Yeah, there are times when I’m tired after a full week practicing and I don’t do home work because of practice or a game, but if I didn’t need good grades to be on the team then I probably wouldn’t do any of it. Coach don’t really make me feel bad about my C average, but I can tell he wants me to do better.”
I beat Nelson in one on one at the basketball courts, but I could tell that he was taking it easy on me. He could dunk with no effort and he could jump higher than me if he wanted to. I asked him about his regionals end zone dance when we sat for a break.
“So they remember you.”‘ He jumped up, still panting a little from our game, and twirled his arms like a windmill, leaned his shoulders back, and skipped around in a circle. “Plus the ladies like it.”
Everyone is excited about Nelson’s senior year, but his mind was elsewhere. “I got some time before we get back to it. I’m gonna be in the talent show this year, my girlfriend talked me into it. If you thought that regional game was something, wait ’til you see me on that stage.”
The winter festival in downtown Ladoga is part fair, part art exhibition, and most everyone comes for the talent show. It was started in the late nineties by city council members who thought that January and February were drab months and wanted to give the people something to look forward to that wasn’t a parade. The festival is centered around the old town hall building that is transformed into a gallery with displays of student work from all of the area schools as well as local artists. The cookie jar that I sculpted in my high school pottery class was featured there once and was awarded a blue participant ribbon that my mother probably still has stashed away somewhere. There are carriage rides that follow the simple circle of the streets around town hall. Any time that I see horses that are forced to run on the streets, I can’t help but feel bad for them; but the carriage owners, usually from one of the two equestrian farms from the outskirts of the west side, were very caring and empathetic toward their animals. One year, the Doster Farm entered the talent show and won with a synchronized horse dance on the town hall lawn. There are also food vendors and games for young kids, but around 7pm, everyone packs into the renovated movie theater in downtown that hadn’t showed movies since the eighties. It was closed until the city bought the theater and converted it into a concert hall that was rented by various organizations around town for concerts, recitals, plays, and even a few graduations. There is a different host of the talent show every year, usually a well known member of town who is chosen by the city council. When Nelson and his girlfriend’s dancing act entered, the manager of the local grocery store, Hal Paly, hosted. He was known for making jokes over his store’s PA system and most people who shop there seem to enjoy him. He’s an older man and he tells very tame, very common jokes that everyone has heard before, but he animates them in a way that only he can. The winner of the talent show is crowned Mr. or Ms. Ladoga for a year and gets to perform in front of town hall during the art exhibition the following year.
I went to the talent show to see how Nelson would do, to see exactly what his girlfriend had put together. The show was a mix bag; some acts were cute little children that made everyone coo; kids who were surprisingly adept at things like singing or playing instruments; talented teenagers in garage bands and also the goofballs who were bad on purpose just to get a laugh; and adults who had forgotten what it was like to stand on a stage, but when they did, it all came pouring back to them. The winner was chosen by the audience. Nowadays, actual votes are cast over the internet and videos of the performances are featured on the city’s website. The winner is announced at the second day of the festival. There is no bias in the picking of Mr. or Ms. Ladoga, either, the winner is usually the act that is the most endearing to everyone. The most memorable talent show winner for me was the Mexican mariachi band that won two years in a row; it was my first real encounter with Mexican music and they played like their instruments were their hands clapping, it looked so easy to them. And they danced, simple, organized movements that made them look all the more impressive. Another popular winner of the talent show was Raven Wood who won the 2002 crown with a dramatic performance of Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird. Everyone was impresses that she was able to remember so many lines and when she said them loud enough that her voice rattled the stillness of the theater, hairs rose on the audience’s arms.
Nelson and his girlfriend’s dance troupe turned out to be a gag after two minutes of a decent hip hop routine that was eventually derailed when one of the dancers slipped and fell. Another dance act immediately followed them, two ballerinas who taught classes at the dance studio in downtown, and they were stunning to watch. Their movements were so precise and well coordinated. They hardly ever moved in tandem, but all of their movements complemented one another; the dance equivalent of finishing each other’s sentences. I managed to talk to them afterwards and they introduced themselves as Short Ashley and Tall Ashley. Tall Ashley wasn’t much taller than the short one, but their students had given them their monikers and they just went with it. They both grew up in Ladoga and lived in the blue collar part of southwest Ladoga, where people mostly worked at the brick factories and they had been neighbors. They’d both started dancing at the downtown studio and went on to dance in professional companies. Short Ashley went to Wingate University and became a teacher; all the while she danced with various groups around campus and was eventually invited to audition for the company in Raleigh. She danced in the chorus for a while before starting her family and returning to Ladoga. Tall Ashley left the south after high school and set her sights on Portland. “I love the rose garden in Washington Park, my dad is from there so we used to visit when I was younger. I always wanted to get married in the rose garden.” She was married there, and trained as an apprentice at the Oregan Ballet Theater for a few seasons before her parents died suddenly when a train derailed on its way through Ladoga, at the stop light where they happened to be waiting for it to pass. Tall Ashley couldn’t bear to sell her childhood home and convinced her husband who was a Portland native to relocate. The two Ashleys were surprised to see one another when they both applied for positions at the studio under their childhood teacher, Samantha Franks, who was old by that time. When she died, the two Ashley bought the studio and continued their work. “It’s not the biggest deal around here,” Short Ashley explained, “our recitals don’t draw football game crowds, but the girls love it. We even have a few boys and the football team will come by at least once a season. We try to get the whole town involved, we’re not that expensive, and we have kids from all over town in our classes. We’re a part of Ladoga.” I asked them what they thought about Nelson’s end zone dance and apparently they had helped him develop it in their studio. “He’s very light on his feet,” Short Ashley said, “he would have made a great dancer.”
While I talked to the Ashleys, Nelson came over to praise their performance and invited us all to an after party at his girlfriend’s house; she lived in rural west Ladoga and her family’s home was in what looked like a clearing in the woods. The Ashley’s graciously declined and I should have followed suit, but I forgot how old Nelson was. He looked mine and the Ashley’s age, or his body was big enough to fool me. I went with Nelson in his car and we drove out past the country store that sells bait and game meats the owners hunt themselves. I couldn’t imagine finding the house that we drove to on my own. We turned on so many small side roads and everything looked the same, trees everywhere. When we got there, we drove down the long driveway. The house was huge and there were cars parked all along the driveway. We could hear commotion from the backyard and walked back. I felt like the oldest man in the world. Of course the after party was a high school party, complete with a keg and a skinny kid inverted over top it, a crowd around him cheering him on. There was loud contemporary music, a mix of everything that I grumbled about to my girlfriend, that it lacked the artistry of music from days gone by. And I felt scandalized watching them dance, grinding themselves into one another to show everyone what they looked like when they were having sex. I went to parties like that one when I was Nelson’s age and I’m sure that I did the same things; played flip cup and drank too much, threw up all over the place. But it was strange to be so much older than everyone else.
I lost track of Nelson and decided to sit out by the bonfire with the kids that philosophized when they drank. They were watching their peers dance and the circle of mostly guys fixated on the one couple that literally looked a layer of clothes away from making a baby. They made jokes, screamed at them to get a room and I relaxed with them and decided that I should drink something since I’d probably be there a while. The dancing couple did not let up the entire night and they didn’t mind the audience at all, no matter how loud we got.
When I was pretty drunk myself and realized the time, I called my girlfriend who was extremely mad to have to navigate the backwoods of west Ladoga to find me. When she got there, though, her mood softened. She talked to the young siblings of her old friends and I guess she got swept up in the nostalgia of the whole thing. I don’t normally dance, only when I’ve had a few and my girlfriend coaxes it out of me. That night she didn’t have to try too hard and we held each other close, showing the young couple how to enjoy one another without dry humping.
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