The North Carolina Mason

May/June 2020 The North Carolina Mason Page 9 By Walt Clapp Grand Secretary I hope this article finds you and yours happy and healthy. As you well know, 2020 is turning out to be anything but typical. Without a doubt, life has changed and will continue to change as we move forward out of this pandemic. For me, except for the occasional hurricane or ice storm, I have never known the state's lodges to close. As far as we can tell from the old Proceedings and Grand Secretaries' notes, many lodges suspended work during the Great Flu in 1918 and 1919, but not state- wide. Of course, the busi- ness of Freemasonry continues, even if our lodges are not meeting, and the staff and I come by the office regularly to carry out necessary duties. We, like you, are looking forward to getting back to a regular schedule. But the psychological impact is going to be felt long, long after "abnormal" becomes the "new normal." As I pondered my message for this article, I considered renewing an emphasis on reaching out to lodge members, or finding value in smaller numbers, or caring for our build- ings—all things you've heard before (which are important). But, then, my assistant prevailed upon me to simply share a story or two. First, as we think about our health, I want to thank our first responders. ey bear the brunt of the anxiety, fear, and sickness we're living through. eir job is not easy, and they remind me of my Dad, who helped organize McDowell County's first local rescue squad and was considered a first responder. Now, Dad worked for the funeral home, but (for you younger members) back then, the only difference between an ambulance and a hearse was whether or not you flipped up the wheels to receive a casket or the tracks to take in a gurney. Second, I think of all the medical professionals risking their own health to care for the sick. My Mom worked at the hospital in Marion in the medical records department. I would argue she could diagnose a patient as well as any doctor and she understood the importance of medical know-how. So, when dinner time rolled around and the question was asked, "So, how was your day?" something interesting was bound to be announced from the funeral home, or the hospital, or both! With that in mind, one day Mom and Dad strolled up to the house and found me in the yard building a palisade fort around a couple dozen plastic army men. "Little Walt, where'd you get all those popsicle sticks from?" Mom asked. I pointed over to Dr. Archie's office. "Dr. MacIntosh gave you all those?" "Oh no," I replied. "He threw them away. I got them out of his trash!" I think society sometimes acts like "Little Walt." I thought I was safe. And, I was — after mom scrubbed me with bleach. Like I said, brethren, to all those on the front lines, thank you for watching out for us. e strange times we live in have forced us to slow down. For some, slowing down is frustrating. For others it causes anxiety. Be honest. Are you glued to the news because you're bored or have you become numb to the number of deaths reported daily? I try to reflect on the numbers daily. Every one of those victims is a person. Every one was a part of somebody's life. While we all are numb to an extent, we are reflecting on life. We're noticing the small things and taking care to simply stop and smell the roses. It struck me: Freemason- ry's teachings – to reflect, to study, to be fraternal – help us prepare for times like these. ey remind us to check on the neighbors, check on our brethren. It's what we do. When I walked into the kitchen one night recently, I saw my wife sitting at the kitchen table hand- writing notes to people—like my mother did when I was young. When I have been forced to go out for groceries or supplies, I notice people acknowledge each other in the aisle or on the sidewalk, with a nod and a smile and perhaps a "hello." is is new. Slowing down helps us acknowledge each other. ere may be an underlying fear that the other person has COVID-19, but we still take the moment to appre- ciate their existence, and value our own. I've daydreamed a little back to my childhood in Marion, NC, when time was slower (at least, time was slower for me when I wasn't dumpster diving for used tongue depressors). My father called my two younger sisters and me vaga- bond children because we roamed the town. We had a routine—out early to harness up our Shetland pony, "Star." Our pony pulled us around town in a small cart. In that cart we collected empty Coke bottles. After an hour or so, we drove Star to the Winn- Dixie Store to collect the 3 cent deposit on the bottles. We would head home so I could start my lawn-mowing service. I tried to finish all the yards early so it wouldn't be so hot. In the evening, we set Star out to graze in the yard or the vacant lot behind the house. As evening fell, I led Star back to the barn to feed him. I always hated feeding Star after my sisters did, because they inevitably left the lid off the sweet feed barrel. If you've ever had one rat run up your arm, it's one too many. If I can impart any wisdom whatsoever, remember: Beat on the feed barrel and carry a flashlight. Star taught the Clapp children about the corporate world. I owned 50 percent of the Clover Hill's Flaming Star Company (our bottle collection service, and the origin of Star's name), meaning I paid $40 of the total cost of the horse when we bought him at auction in Hickory. Two of my sisters could each claim a 25 percent stake of the company, but Star was all of our responsi- bility. Being the principal investor, I held the position of caring for the employees — the pony — as well as maintaining the cart. e cart was a lesson in government subsidies. Dad provided the cart, I owed half the horse, and we shared him equally. Isolation gives us time to smell the roses ■ see CLAPP page 10 The Grand Secretary and many other Masons throughout North Carolina made use of part of their time by donating blood.

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