Newspapers / The New Bern Mirror … / Oct. 9, 1964, edition 1 / Page 1
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Mnr Bam PuUio Libcaqr The NEW BERN PUBLISHED WEEKLY IN THE HEART OP NORTH r' St VOLUME 7 NEW BERN, N. C., FRIDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1964 NUMBER 28 When summer days come ’round again, And there Is so much time to play, We go each year down to the shore Where I should always like to stay. We’re busy there the whole day long. First, in the water, then on land; We swim like ducks, and launch our boats. And build tall castles In the sand. We watch ships sailing far away. And sea gulls flying high and low; We And more shells than we can count. And wonder how so many grow. If I could choose the time of year I like, and where I’d rather be, I’d take twelve months of sum mer-time. And spend them all down by the sea. Ethel Hughes penned the lines above, and perhaps God in His benevolence will grant this dear little old lady eternal summer and the sight and sound of waves breaking on a sandy shore. A woman who wrote almost as ib&t of nb sthafl she had none Of the tempera ment attributed to those of us who strive for creative ex pression. Conceding that it’s prepos terous to believe that she never said or did anything unkind in a life span of more than 80 years, no one who knew her intimate ly or casually can recall such an incident. Our own association with her, limited though it was, revealed her keen sense of humor, Ethel Hughes, blessed with a child’s joyful heart and a child’s aware ness of the miraculous world all about us, had an ageless outlook. Father Time, as he does with all mortals in their declining years, levied his toll on the part of her that was physical, but he could not quench the flame that made her spirit a glowing candle. Perhaps she could have given more of herself to others, but this we seriously doubt. What ever she may have bequeathed of a tangible nature was tri vial, and would have been even if she had been wealthy, com pared with Intangibles that meant so much to so many. For 20 years of her life she was away from her native New Bern, living in New York City. Upon her return she gathered up the threads of the past, the ones that were left, and wove a pattern of new beauty. Her dally living proclaimed the love she felt for her community. Dear to her heart was the National League of American Pen Women, She was long a member of the New Bern branch, and she remained faith ful to the cause. Few miss her more than her friends in that organization. As an artist, she had widely varied talents and made use of them all. Her oil portraits and landscapes would possibly be regarded as her major accom- (Cmtlnued on page 3) ■I ^ ’ ' * THIS ONE IS MINE—Sheena, a miniature French poodle, doesn’t object to the early bird having tibe worm, but nothing or nobody is going to get away with stealing his Halloween pumpkin. And though the night for spooks and goblins isn’t close at hand (or raw), who wanted to wait around until the very best Jack- o-Lantem was gone from his favorite field? Besides, if President Johnson and Senator Goldwater are as aw ful as they accuse each other of being, there’s more fmr a fellow to watch out for than witches riding broom sticks. Sheena’s proud owners are Ben and ^arlotte Hurst, or rather ne owns them.—^Photo by Billy Ben ners.
The New Bern Mirror (New Bern, N.C.)
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Oct. 9, 1964, edition 1
1
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