The Fence Post

 Pass the Skewer and Dangle the Dog: A Lesson in Fire Pit Fun and Fencing Wisdom

Jerry and Ramona invited me over to enjoy their fire pit this summer. They like to roast marshmallows for s’mores, but since I don’t eat sugar, I suggested we roast hotdogs instead. Ramona was thrilled.

I cooked up some fabulous “hotdog chili” (as we call it in the South), made coleslaw, bought my favorite hotdogs and buns, and headed over for an evening of outdoor roasting. Their friend Bill came too. The guys got a nice fire blazing, and Ramona and I joined them with a tray of dogs to roast.

Ramona ran back into the kitchen to grab the skewers. When she reappeared, I burst out laughing.

The Skewer Dilemma

“Ramona, those are your skewers?” I exclaimed, staring at the tiny 10-inch metal skewers. “Is this what you normally use?”

“We’ve never roasted hotdogs,” she replied.

“What? I thought you’d been roasting all summer!”

“Only marshmallows,” she sighed.

“How will we keep from burning our hands with such short skewers without handles? Oh, my word,” I declared.

Jerry and Bill were laughing, but Ramona didn’t quite get the dilemma. Jerry tried to explain, but it didn’t sink in at first.

Creative Solutions

Always wanting to make the best of a situation, I speared a hotdog and tried to hold it over the hot coals. I couldn’t get it close enough to cook. Jerry excused himself to find an alternative.

Meanwhile, I looked over and saw Bill dangling his hotdog vertically over the coals. I followed suit. Ramona returned, and now she began laughing.

Jerry, a fine woodworker, rejoined us with narrow pieces of wood about 20 inches long. His idea was to thread the wood through the eye of the skewer to lengthen it. Bill and Jerry managed to do it, but every time I tried, the skewer with the hotdog rotated upside down. I was laughing so hard I could barely function. Ultimately, I dangled my hotdog vertically and got a bit of a char on it.

We decided to head indoors to eat.

Chili Slaw Dogs and Nekkid Dogs

“Ramona, are you having a chili slaw dawg or a nekkid dawg?” I asked with a smirk.

“What in the world are you talking about?” she inquired.

In the little town of Lincolnton, North Carolina, there’s a famous café on the square across from the Lincoln County Courthouse called City Lunch. They serve good ole country cookin’, including hotdogs. I’ve been told they sometimes sell upwards of 10,000 hotdogs in a day when supplying a fair or rally. When you order your hotdog, it comes with mustard, onions, chili, and slaw. If you want none of that, you order a naked (nekkid) dog.

It’s a family tradition to order these chili slaw dogs whenever I’m in town. They only take cash, and they don’t have an ATM. A reputable source told me that the late owner, Lynette Greer, took the cash home each night. By her death, she had a million dollars in cash in “safe” keeping. Urban legend? I don’t know.

I hope she had a tall security fence, a burglar system, and a fireproof safe for all her money! Though she dressed simply and didn’t wear makeup, she was a smart, savvy woman and always had a smile for you. She made a fortune selling her hotdogs—the diner still serves up an average of 700 a day, and they fry chicken the old-fashioned way in a cast iron skillet every Thursday.

What Do You Need to Protect?

What do you need to protect from the outside world? Hopefully, you aren’t keeping a million dollars of cash in your house! However, I hope you have a million dollars if that’s your dream.

Fences will keep your children and your dogs in and keep the deer and foxes out.

Call Terry today! T2C – She’s waiting to hear from you!

All my best regards,

Debbie Page

CEO, Louis E. Page Inc. – Woman-owned business and family-owned since 1893..

When the Fire Trucks Came Up the Hill: A Lesson in Backyard Fires and Southern Charm




It all started with a simple question from my 16-year-old son. We had just moved from Georgia to our new home in Exeter, New Hampshire, and he asked if he could burn the brush he’d cut down.

“Sure, honey, that’s fine,” I answered. And didn’t give it another thought.

Until.



The Chicken Incident

I was babysitting for Gavin, the three-year-old neighbor, and we were busy weeding the front flower garden. Dinner time was approaching, so we went inside to put the chicken in the oven. Market Basket had a special on chicken legs, and I’d bought a ten-pound bag.

As I cut open the bag, the stench escaped. Oh, my gosh! Ten pounds of spoiled chicken.

What do you do with ten pounds of rotten chicken? I’ll toss the whole thing on the fire.

We walked out the back door to the roaring fire and threw the chicken on top. Then, back out to the front yard to dig in the dirt.



The Sirens and the Fire Chief

It was a hot, sweaty kind of day. Barefoot and dirty, we continued to weed. Then we heard sirens, and Gavin became hysterical! He was terrified of sirens. I assured him they weren’t coming here, and then they stopped, so he calmed down.

Then I heard the powerful engines and knew they were coming up the hill.

I ran into the house, caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and saw my dirty, sweaty face. Out the back door and onto the deck, I spotted a bucket full of water. I picked it up and yelled to David, “Throw this on the fire! The fire trucks are coming!”

I ran back into the house with a crying Gavin on my hip. And I waited.

Before long, the fireman appeared at the door and asked if I knew I had a fire in my backyard.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Who started the fire?” he asked.
“My son,” I answered.
“How old is he?”
“16.”
“The fire chief wants to talk to you.”



The Hillbilly Moment

Let me set the scene a bit more.

I was barefoot, sweaty, with dirt on my face and hands, and a screaming three-year-old on my hip! Oh, and the neighbor had removed the stairs to the front porch as he was building new stairs! My license tag was still a Georgia plate.

We must have looked and sounded like hillbillies to these New England guys!

The fire chief asked if I knew having a fire without a permit in Exeter was illegal.
“No,” I answered.

He then proceeded to state the various requirements for having a backyard fire. Here’s the best part of all:

“Ma’am,” he continued. “You can burn brush, or you can cook food outside, but you can’t burn brush and cook on the same fire.”

Oh my gosh! He actually thought I was cooking those chicken legs on a brush fire!

How I wish that I had a bucket full of barbecue sauce and a mop and could have said,
“Here! Take this mop and go slosh those chicken legs with this here barbecue sauce!”

It was all I could do to keep from dying laughing! Those Southern hillbillies!



The Aftermath

Later that evening, David informed me that the bucket of water he threw on the fire had a frog in it. Did the fire chief think I was cooking frog legs as well??

All of this took place before I met Duncan. I met him two years later, and he loved this story! If he were cooking chicken on a brush fire, he would have put down a piece of hardware cloth to cook it on!



A Word on Hardware Cloth

Speaking of which, hardware cloth is such a helpful product. It’s available in galvanized, vinyl-coated, and stainless steel. Whether you’re securing a garden, protecting your property, or just keeping things in order, it’s a versatile solution for durability and peace of mind.

Check out our hardware cloth options at Louis E. Page Inc.



Warmest regards,
Debbie Page
CEO, Louis E. Page Inc. – Woman-owned business and family-owned since 1893.

Purple Hearts and Evil Surgeons: A Story of Faith, Fate, and Family

It’s the end of April, and it’s time to plan your fence. Many of our fence contractors install backyard fences this time of year to keep dogs and children safe. Our Yard Guard has been a favorite for many decades. I received a lovely email with pictures from a satisfied customer who installed this last Spring and is looking to expand her project. Why not join suit?

But today, I want to share a story that’s close to my heart—one that reminds me of the power of faith, the unpredictability of fate, and the importance of family.



A Soldier’s Story

Yesterday, I talked about my dad’s Purple Hearts and the shrapnel in his eye. Someone asked me to explain what happened with his eye, so here I go.

After the bomb exploded, leaving shrapnel in his leg and eye, they transferred Dad to a field hospital. They attended to his immediate needs and set him up in a large tent with numerous other injured soldiers. With Dad’s eye being affected, they had wrapped his head and face in gauze so that he couldn’t see.

Two young surgeons met with him and explained they needed to remove the injured eye. I think Dad was about 22: young, scared, and naive. He accepted this was his fate. Dad had tremendous faith in God and never showed fear or anxiety to us as kids, so I don’t really know how he was handling this.

The next morning, a young doctor was making his rounds. He came to my dad’s bed, picked up his chart hanging from the end of his bed, read the name, and said, “Billy Hoffman? The Billy Hoffman from Lincolnton, North Carolina?”

“Yes,” my dad answered.

The doctor introduced himself, and Dad immediately knew who he was: a classmate from his hometown. What a small world. The doctor sat on the edge of the bed and listened to Dad’s story, including that surgery to remove his eye was arranged for the next day. The doctor told Dad to hold on tight as he would discuss this with the surgeons.

Walking down the makeshift corridor, he overheard the surgeons discussing Dad’s case. They said this would be a great practice for them and would give them a great experience when returning to the States. Dad’s friend was appalled and confronted the surgeons. As the doctor learned more, he concluded that eye removal was unnecessary! Imagine! Deciding to remove someone’s eye for practice’s sake. It’s so unethical.

I mentioned yesterday that Dad’s eye was fine all the rest of the days of his life, and he never wore glasses. Dad didn’t do much reading in his late 80s, so who knows if he would have needed reading glasses. But he lived to 90 and enjoyed seeing the world around him with two eyes.



A Legacy of Love and Fences

I hope you have fond memories of your dad and have tales to share with family and friends. There is nothing better than a good dad.

Unfortunately, Dad died eleven days before I started working at Louis Page in 2011. He would have taken great delight in perusing the website and the catalog, dreaming of ways to use our fencing products. I’m sure he would have found a way to incorporate a fence in his yard. I would have jumped at the chance to watch him dig those post

🌍 Dreamin’ and Schemin’: Turning Your Property into Paradise

Lions are majestic. They are the King of the jungle—regal, magnificent, and impossible to ignore. Duncan loved lions, and if you were to visit me, you’d find them scattered throughout our home: bronze, brass, resin, wood, and who knows what other materials. Each one is a treasure, a piece of art that sparks joy and conversation.

The Lion That Stole Our Hearts

Sometimes, I play hide-and-seek with the children, tucking our lions—whom we affectionately call Aslan, after The Chronicles of Narnia—into nooks and crannies around the house. But the lion that truly captured our imaginations stands in Allenstown, New Hampshire. A life-size cement lion, perched on a three-foot pedestal, overlooks the road and valley from the front yard of an old farmhouse. It’s the most marvelous cast lion I’ve ever seen.

Duncan and I would dream about that lion. We imagined it in our own yard, with the flags of Scotland and the USA flying beside it. Duncan guessed it would weigh over a thousand pounds! We’d laugh and scheme about how to make it ours. Would the owners sell it? We never stopped to ask, but we did joke about pulling up in the middle of the night and hauling it away—Jason Statham style, of course. (Don’t worry, we’d never actually do that… but it was fun to imagine!)

Art That Takes Your Breath Away

Recently, I discovered the work of Fred Hoppe, a Nebraskan sculptor who brings figures to life. His creations include a magnificent lion now living in New Hampshire—and I saw it today. His female eagle, moose, horse, and other pieces are so lifelike, they take your breath away. It’s incredible how creative people can be. We all have the innate ability to create, though some take their talents to extraordinary levels.

Dream Big for Your Property

Think about your own property. Dream and scheme to turn it into your paradise. Maybe it’s a bronze statue, a custom fence, or a cozy fire pit. Fred Hoppe has only cast one full-size lion so far, but he still has the mold and could make more! It might not be in my budget right now, but where there’s a will, there’s a way.

And if you’re dreaming of a fence, call Terry. She’s our fabulous fence expert and always ready to help you bring your vision to life!

 When the Fire Trucks Came Up the Hill: A Lesson in Backyard Fires and Southern Charm

I heard the trucks coming up the hill…

Shortly after we moved from Georgia to our new home in Exeter, New Hampshire, my 16-year-old son asked me if he could burn the brush he had cut down. “Sure, honey, that’s fine,” I answered. And didn’t give it another thought, until…

The Chicken Incident

I was babysitting for Gavin, the three-year-old neighbor, and we were busy weeding the front flower garden. It was getting close to dinner time, so we went inside to put the chicken in the oven. Market Basket had a special on chicken legs, and I had bought a ten-pound bag. As I cut open the bag, the stench escaped. Oh, my gosh!! The smell was awful. Ten pounds of spoiled chicken!

What do you do with ten pounds of rotten chicken? Oh, I’ll toss the whole thing on the fire. We walked out the back door to the roaring fire and threw the chicken on top. Then, back out to the front yard to dig in the dirt.

The Sirens and the Fire Chief

It was a hot, sweaty kind of day. Barefoot and dirty, we continued to weed. Then we heard sirens, and Gavin became hysterical! He was terrified of sirens. I assured him that they weren’t coming here, and then they stopped, so he calmed down. Then I heard the powerful engines and knew they were coming up the hill. I ran into the house, caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and saw my dirty, sweaty face. Out the back door and onto the deck, I spotted a bucket full of water. I picked it up and yelled to David, “Throw this on the fire! The fire trucks are coming!”

I ran back into the house with a crying Gavin on my hip. And I waited. Before long, the fireman appeared at the door and asked if I knew I had a fire in my backyard. “Yes,” I replied.

“Who started the fire?” he asked.
“My son,” I answered.
“How old is he?”
“16.”
“The fire chief wants to talk to you.”

Let me set the scene a bit more. I was barefoot, sweaty, with dirt on my face and hands, and a screaming three-year-old on my hip! Oh, and the neighbor had removed the stairs to the front porch as he was building new stairs! My license tag was still a Georgia plate. We must have looked and sounded like hillbillies to these New England guys!

The fire chief asked if I knew having a fire without a permit in Exeter was illegal. “No,” I answered. He then proceeded to state the various requirements for having a backyard fire. Here’s the best part of all.

“Ma’am,” he continued. “You can burn brush, or you can cook food outside, but you can’t burn brush and cook on the same fire.”

Oh my gosh! He actually thought I was cooking those chicken legs on a brush fire! How I wish that I had a bucket full of barbecue sauce and a mop and could have said, “Here! Take this mop and go slosh those chicken legs with this here barbecue sauce!” It was all I could do to keep from dying laughing! Those Southern hillbillies!

Later that evening, David informed me that the bucket of water he threw on the fire had a frog in it. Did the fire chief think I was cooking frog legs as well??

A Postscript and a Product We Love

All of this took place before I met Duncan. I met him two years later, and he loved this story! If he were cooking chicken on a brush fire, he would have put down a piece of hardware cloth to cook it on!

Hardware cloth is such a helpful product. It’s available in galvanized after, vinyl-coated, and stainless steel. Check out our hardware cloth!



My warmest regards,
Debbie Page
CEO, Louis E. Page Inc–Woman-owned business and Family-owned since 1893. (True! That’s 131 years owned and run by our family).
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