Uncle Bob's Travels

Places I've hung out in or just neat postcards

Whispering Pines

Here is how this went:  A week or so ago, I was taking an afternoon nap when my phone rang.  A Chattanooga number. A woman’s voice, somewhat raspy, asked, “Is this Whispering Pines?”

The usual reply, “Nope, wrong number.  Sorry, ‘bye.”

Ten minutes later: Ring.

“Is this Whispering Pines?”

Again, no, sorry, no.

A few minutes later. Ring.

I recognized the number and ignored it.

The next day.  At work.  Ring.

“Is this Whispering Pines?”

I said, “Look, lady, you woke me up from a nap yesterday and wouldn’t believe me when I told you (I was actually pointing my finger…) that this is not Whispering Pines.”

She denied having called me.

“No more.  This is not Whispering Pines. Good bye.”

Then, I blocked the number.

My buddy and I were over in the Asheville area the next Saturday and, lo, I see this:


I thought I could hear faint laughter coming from somewhere.


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