You've been In town a spell If
hot weather brings to mind those
old-time Sunday school picnics
we used to have. Cruising down
the river on the Steamer Phil
lips was an adventure, as was
a train ride to Mor^ead City,
and the boat trip from there
to Atlantic Beach.
Convenience Is wonderful,
and we're all for It, but much of
the glamor of hea^ng for the
ocean evaporated when a cause
way and bridge were built al
most to the surf. Like the toys
that kids once got only at
Christmas, visiting the beach
became a routine thing.
Nothing could beat a Sunday
school picnic for revealing a
person's true self. Sad to re
late, some of the good sisters
and brethren who sang and pray
ed the loudest In church behav
ed In the manner of hungry swine
when they swarmed to the table
and grabbed the best pieces of
fried chicken.
As a small boy we discovered
that, when eating time comes,
Christians often react to the
presence of food just like in
fidels do. What kept us from
losing faith was an awareness
that those who brought far more
than their share of lunch weren't
numbered among the greedy
grabbers. They were not only
free hearted but downright civi
lized.
It's much too late now to
thank a handful of loyal breth
ren who passed up the joy of
splashing in the ocean to make
barrels of lemonade for the
multitude assembled. We sus
pect that ingredients went into
the barrel by impulse rather
than by recipe, but never since
has lemonade been so tasty and
refreshing.
Not the least of the revela
tions at j^ch picnics was the
sight of some of the good sis
ters and brethren in attire rent
ed from the bath house. At
best, beach wear in those days
did little for the human form,
but the rented swimming equip
ment would have made Miss
America a monstrosity. A
deacon with his underpinions
and midsection uncovered was
the strongest argument against
nudity anyone needed.
You'll still find Sunday school
picnics and reunions in rural
sections, but city churches with
large congregations have steer
ed away from arranging tliese
outdoor gatherings. In fact,
plenty of New Bernians grown
and married have no idea of
what an honest to goodness
church picnic is like.
During the waning years, one
of the biggest thrills ended,
the special train to and from
Morehead City, enabling every
body to ride together and pause
at Newport to gather a flower
or two at a lily pond flank
ing the track. There was lau^-
ter and song, and coming back
radiantly sunburned you felt
like you had been somewhere.
When buses replaced the
trains, the atmosphere of to
getherness diminished, and fin
ally, making the trip by pri
vate automobile struck the fatal
blow. There's so much more to
do and see nowadays, at a much
faster pace. Even so, any old
ster will agree that something
pleasant went out of existence
when the Sunday school picnic
vanished from our scene.
Equally enthralling, and just
(Continued on page 8)
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VOLUME 11
NEW BERN, N. C., FRIDAY, JULY 5, 1968
NUMBER 15
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A LIVING DOLL—Yes that’s what Delores Hovey is,
and a smiling doll who almost never cries. The young
est of three daughters who have blessed the home of
Gordon and Fumiko Hovey at Battleground Park just
east of New Bern, she will celebrate her second birth-
dav on September 30. She will have a cake with a
“lair of candles on it, but the day won’t be complete
R
or her if there isn’t a big bowl of fruit on the table.
Most of all she likes grapes and bananas. From birth
she has responded to music, and she learned to walk
early for the sole purpose of dancing, which she does
imrpetually. She creates her own interpretations, and
they are something to see. Gordon met Fumiko while
serving with the Marines in Japan, and the romance
that blossomed was a lasting one.—Photo by Eunice
Wray. '
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