ACR Contributing Editor and Vice President: Carolyn Moore, originally from South Carolina, graduated from that state's university at age 19 with a double major in Psychology and Sociology. A resident of Jonesborough Tennessee, and occasionally Boone, North Carolina, for many years, she pursued her interest in civics and criminal justice by serving for many years on the local Historical Preservation Zoning Board, national and state Executive Committees of the Democratic Party, and as a church elder for Jonesborough Presbyterian Church. She served for years on the Development Committee of FOCIS, a volunteer service organization for faith-based community activism and progress toward healthily sustainable living environments. Travel throughout Europe, Britain and the Middle East with her late husband, law professor and department chairperson for NC's Appalachian State University, allowed exploration of worldwide religions and art forms. Mother to three outstanding and highly-achieving daughters, she had also been an active and lifelong supporter of The Southern Poverty Law Center. Her writing has been published in regional hardcopy and within ACR. Check the XYZ Index for listing links to her archived art and writing.

There's No Place Like Home
A Carolyn Moore interview and house tour
written by Saundra Kelley for the Herald & Tribune

Memory Trail
Boone NC and kol isha

Election photograph of President Barack Obama and Vice President Joe Biden with a handwritten message reading, "Ms. Moore, Thank you for your remarkable commitment to our Party. Warmest regards, Joe Biden"

"Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep...."

BOOM! (Inspired during 1999 Jonesborough Independence Day fireworks celebrations by Carolyn Moore, whose Invictus Maneo [I am not conquered] cross/dagger is pinned onto a fox fur boa she gave me in the fall of 2007, now decorating one of my living room walls.) I am a nation of conquerers not the meek or the mealy-mouthed American from all the shivering boundaries the best the hardest the most worn out I'm your end of meaning a place where countries come to scream the last dream dreaming tomorrow from yesterday lied Warrior goddess yellow red black brown I'm unclassified the force you never reckoned from a sky you never tried Blistering with burnt ideals fathered of sterling stone I'm the light that will not die leading on this globe jh "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord./ He is trampling out the wine press, where the grapes of wrath are stored,/ He hath loosed the fateful lightnings of his terrible swift sword,/ His truth is marching on./ I have seen him in the watchfires of an hundred circling camps/ They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps,/ I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps,/ His day is marching on./ I have read a burning Gospel writ in fiery rows of steel,/ As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal,/ Let the hero born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,/ Our God is marching on./ He has sounded out the trumpet that shall never call retreat,/ He has waked the earth's dull sorrow with a high ecstatic beat,/ Oh! be swift my soul to answer him, be jubilant my feet!/ Our God is marching on./ In the whiteness of the lilies he was born across the sea,/ With a glory in his bosom that shines out on you and me,/ As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,/ Our God is marching on./ He is coming like the glory of the morning on the wave,/ He is wisdom to the mighty, he is succour to the brave,/ So the world shall be his footstool, and the soul of Time his slave,/ Our God is marching on./" -- Battle Hymn of the Republic by Julia Ward Howe 1861, from Reminiscences 1819-1899

Return to A Country Rag