So many things could be
truthfully and glowingly
written as an epitaph for the
tombstone of Martha Carolina
Hunnings, who would have been
106 had she lived untU the
flowers of May adorned the
coastal countryside.
If it fell our lot to make the
choice, we’d simply inscribe
“The way she spelled LIFE was
LOVE.” After everything else
has been said, boundless
compassion for all God’s
creatures is what made her a
saint walking the earth.
She neither sought nor found
an easy bed of roses in this
world, but fk’om the bitter weeds
of tribuiation her heart
fashioned gariands of triumph
that caused lesser mortals to
marvel in his vale of tears.
Greatness depends upon the
yardstick you use. Hunnie never
painted a masterpiece on
canvas, or chiseled an inspiring
figure from cold marble. She
composed no lasting music or
stirring poetry. Her gift,
eagerly offered to fellow
mwtals, high and low, was a
noble spirit that held the spark
divine.
When there were days that
she could say with the Pacdmist,
“My cup runneth over,” Hunnie
passed the ciq> to others instead
of keeping it for herself. At
other times, vdien hemrtbreak
drained it dry, she fondled it in
hands made strong by hard
labor, and rode out the storm
until God calmed the waters.
All of us., for better or worse,
become a part of those who
touch our lives. From the cradle
to the grave, we are altematdy
influenced by the good and the
bad around us, and in small or
large measure our course is
altc^ and our attitude trans
formed.
Whatever commendable
there may be in this editor’s life
was further nurtured and
sustained by knowing Hunnie
over a long span. It was our
privilege to be numbered
among her friends. That hardly
makes us exclusive, since
literally thousands were em
braced in this large circle.
You didn’t have to be wealthy
or famous, clever or charming,
to bask in her boundless af
fection. Like the Good Lord’s
heavenly sunshine, she reached
out and warmed the just and the
unjust, the mighty and the
meek, without favoritism.
Born in Pamlico County,
Hunnie spent most of her adidt
life in Carteret County. Left a
farm widow when the youngest
of several children was just a
month old, she toiled from dawn
to dusk, and then far into the
night to keep her family
clothed, sheltei^ and fed.
She didn’t know the meaning
of self pity. All she asked from
God in those dark days was the
physical stren^ to labor at the
many chores that faced her. No
man or mule in the Down East
region kept going at a harder
pace.
As the children grew up,
Hunnie got a chance to rest a
little, but idleness wasn’t for
her. To the last, until blindness
forced her busy fingers to come
to a halt, she did intricate
(Continued on page 8>
The NEW BERN
CAROLINA
5^ Per Copy
VOLUME 15
NEW BERN. N. C. 28560, FRIDAY, MARCH 9, 1973
NUMBER 51
Sfru-C^ntupn (Umiutij 3?ubltr SiliTary
-'v
New Bern High School Choirs of Yesteryear.