May 15, 2006
Meeting the Cookie Lady
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
There is a legend in America called the Cookie Lady. Thirty years ago, when thousands of cyclists followed this route for the first time to mark the bicentennial of the United States, she was outside her house in Afton, Virginia, in time to be asked for water.
"I asked this fellow where he was going and he said Oregon. I thought that was just a dumb answer to a dumb question. But then others all said the same thing, including one young man who was in a really terrible condition", is the way that Cookie Lady remembers events.
She took him into her house, near the top of a steep hill that leads to the Blue Ridge Parkway, and gave him not just water but cookies, the only food she could offer. In time, tales of her hospitality spread through the thousands riding and more and more stopped to see her over the years. She became a legend. So much that she has had to move out of her house.
Why?
Because it is full of the souvenirs, letters, post cards, newspaper cuttings and gifts that cyclists have sent from all over the world. She started by pinning them to the wall of one room, then filled that room, moved on to the next, then filled a third. The whole downstairs is a shrine to the cyclists who have met or perhaps simply heard of her.
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
She is 85 now, June Curry, and white-haired and a little frail. But with a helper she still cooks meals for anyone who passes and offers her house and her garden for them to stay in. No price asked. And the more she does it, the more they send their thanks and the more her house fills up. There's no room left on the walls and so the messages are added to boxes and files and general heaps. They are everywhere.
Some just pass and sign their names. They come from all over the world. Some leave cards or messages for others. One said: "To the group following us, please hurry up and catch us because my riding partner is boring the hell out of me and I'm willing to trade."
June Curry told me: "Cyclists are my family. That first ride came at a difficult time when I was losing my mother and soon after that I lost my husband. Now I know all these cyclists from all over the world and many have told me their life stories and some, believe me, have had a really hard time. I've had cyclists coming through here who have recovered from a life of crime or from addiction to drugs, and I know it's cycling that's done that for them. I don't always remember the names of everyone who comes back another time but it's rare that I forget a face."
The legend of the Cookie Lady extends beyond cycling. That next night we stayed at a simple, rural camp site run by a bearded man called Ronny, who also farmed 300 acres with only 18 cows to put in them.
"I charge cyclists who camp here," he said, "but I don't keep any of that money. I give it all to the Cookie Lady because I know she doesn't have a whole lot of money. I never bin a cyclist but I admire what she's doing."
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 1 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 0 |