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Zebulon's Man of the Year
Zebulon salutes its man of the year, chosen by the
citizens of the community. Any one of the men nominated
as the outstanding citizen of the community might have
been selected without fear of criticism, but the man se
lected by a majority of voters is interested in all the civic,
business, and religious enterprises the other nominees pro
mote; hence his selection is fitting.
Sunday School, the church, the chamber of commerce,
the zoning board, the county board of education, frater
nal and civic groups, all of these units count C. V. Whitley
among their members willing to contribute money and time
to the success of their particular movement. Certainly few
of us have been so generous with any organization as has
he in all these undertakings.
We join our readers in acclaiming the efforts of this
citizen to make our community a better place to live
financially, socially, and spiritually.
Opinion Is Not Always Fact
Recently a non-veteran minister, making an address
in Zebulon spoke in passing on the danger of a military
caste arising from a system of universal military training,
stating flatly that selective service had been proved the
chief contributing factor in the rise of every powerful
group of military men.
Fact in this case is exactly the opposite of the state
ment the minister presented. The Junkers in Germany
came into being not through conscription but through the
maintenance of a standing professional army. The war
lords of pre-Chiang China came to power through their
standing armies not through universal service. And the
militarist Peron controls Argentina not through the power
of a selective service armed force, but through the pow
er given him by a group of professional soldiers as steeped
in tradition as officers and enlisted men of a young nation
can be.
Because of the peculiar position occupied in any com
munity by a Protestant clergyman, he should be extreme
ly careful of what he says. In our democratic twentieth
century there is plenty of room for disagreement with the
interpretation placed on facts by any man, but what is
presented as facts should be fact not opinion, even when,
as in this instance, the statement is not made from the
pulpit.
Benefit Suppers Labors of Love
The success of the Parent-Teacher Association in rais
ing funds for its 1947-48 laboratory improvement project
completes a year in which a new high has been set locally
for number of benefit suppers held and in funds rais
ed by. these suppers.
Some days we are prone to grumble a bit when ap
proached by the fifth or sixth vendor of benefit tickets,
especially when the funds run light toward the end of the
month. But we will admit that we had rather buy a supper
or even a chance on a bed quilt than to make an outright
contribution to the particular organization selling tickets.
It's the Scotch in us.
One thing that baffles us is how these clubs and so
cieties manage to give so much for so little. The best bar
becue and the most barbecue we have had all fall happened
to be served at a church supper —for one dollar. There is
no question about the preparation of these dinners being a
labor of love for the women involved, and we commend
their civic spirit.
Socialization Not for Germany
Recent dispatches from Germany indicate that Ger
man miners expect to receive better food and clothing and
more luxury items such as tobacco than other German work
ers, but they still expect socialization of the coal mines—
because it was promised them by the British. The miners
are due for disillusioning reality; they need only to look
to the wretched condition of Britain to see why the United
States, now shouldering the bulk of occupation costs, will
permit no socialization. Efficiency just does not come from
socialism —it comes from free enterprise.
The Zebulon Record
Ferd Davis Editor
Barrie Davis Publisher
Entered as second class matter June 26, 1925, at the post office
at Zebulon, North Carolina, under the act of March 3, 1879.
Subscription rate: $1.50 a year. Advertising rates on request
The Zebulon Record
This, That and the Other
By Mrs. Theo. B. Davis
Palisades, Washington
Heretofore when hearing tum
bleweed sung about I pictured in
my mind a lazy, airy, lightsome
progress over sunlit fields. But
at this time I rise to remark that
whoever is “drifting along with
the tum-ber-ling tum-ble-weed”
is doing a piece of traveling.
Not having met the weeds be
fore they dried, I can say little
of their lives, either public or
private. But when they die, the
branches all curl toward the cen
ter, the root, or part of it, comes
from the soil and twists inside;
the whole thing forming a big,
light, spiny brown sphere with
plenty of open spaces. These roll
over and over, driven by wind.
They form regular barricades
along or across a road . . . they
bound between trees in orchards,
or venture up to your doorway.
Today I stood by one tnat was
hip-high and I’m a fairly tall
woman—and was told that some
tumbleweeds grow four times that
large. They are Russian thistles
and people here wish the Russians
had them all.
If you think it hard to hire
help for housework in and around
Zebulon you ought to come to
Palisades. Out here there just
ain’t no such animal as a maid,
New Year's Greetings - 1948
Christmas Day came and went
last week, and I slept it in and
slept it out. I wandered home
well before midnight Christmas
Eve, built fire enough to take the
chill off the air in the room, and
crawled between the covers. The
telephone woke me up at 12:00
noon Christmas Day. I stayed up
long enough to eat Christmas din
ner at my brother’s, collected the
mail from the post office, and
tucked away my supper. At 7:00
I was flat on my back, sleeping
again. And I didn’t wake until
7:30 Friday morning, when it
was time to resume work.
So I remember Christmas Day
1947 as one of the most enjoyable
of my life. Sleep it’s wonderful!
Old Santa didn’t pass me up in
the hustle and bustle of seeing
everybody. I know that the pres
ents I appreciate the most are the
pajamas given me by the folks
Wakefield Community 'News
The reason I didn’t write any
news last week, I was sick in bed
four days and it was too late to
send any in before I got able to be
up. I got out the first time Xmas
Eve and went to the Christmas
Tree and Play. It was just grand
and I wish all could have seen it.
Mr. and Mrs. H. A. Hodge and
Jimmy and Mrs. Vera Rhodes
went to Raleigh Christmas Day
and had turkey dinner with the
T. H. Mims and H. A. Hodges, Sr.
It’s wonderful to get off once in
a while to have dinner. We all
enjoyed it immensely. All the
family was together for the first
time since the war ended. I guess
this was the case in lots of families
and the merriest Christmas.
Mr. and Mrs. Marvin Winstead
and family were at church Sun
day. We were glad to have them.
We are always glad to have our
girls and boys back after they
have gone and reared a family.
in the meaning of the word as a
paid helper. My sister says if
you are sick neighbors come in
and do some< of your work out
of friendliness; but, if you’re
well, why they have their own
work to do. There is no servant
class as we understand the term.
It was amazing to hear of a
foreign born woman who came to
Palisades with her husband and,
after some months, discovered
that American women did not
work such long hours as she had
known. She said “I made up my
mind I’d stay in bed till six
o’clock on Sunday, no matter
what.”
She also decided not to wait
on her husband so slavishly and
reported having “told Mister he
could put his clothes on cold;
she wasn’t going to hold them to
the fire and warm them for him.”
Such independence!
There have been times here,
before the irrigation system was
as well developed as at present,
when the scarcity of water creat
ed serious problems. One woman
told of seeing the school teacher
who boarded with her, take a
glass of water, drink only half of
it and throw the rest away. She
said. “I sat down and cried about
it.”
In contrast with such careless-
that work with us here in the shop
and the neck tie Scouts Robert
Lee and Herbert Privette gave
me. They were unexpected and
made me realize what a doggoned
lucky guy I am.
Lots of Christmas cards came
too, reminding me what a swell
way the cards are to keep in con
tact with distant friends. There
was one from Bill Murphy in
Winston-Salem, whom I haven’t
seen since the morning he was
shot down over Hungary while
chasing an ME-109. And one from
Haqk Greve, who we all thought
dead after he was shot down. He’s
far from dead now, with a wife
and a baby on the way. And an
other from my old tent-mate,
“Shorty” Burman, out in Holly
wood, Cal., who was the biggest
guy I ever saw fly in a P-39.
Most all of the guys checked in.
“Doc” Marquardt, the flight sur-
Mrs. Mamie Kimball bloomed
out with a beautiful corsage of
red roses Christmas Eve night at
the Xmas Play. They were sent
by her daughter Doris from Chica
go. She looked wonderful in it,
most like a bride of the late 40’s.
Mr. and Mrs. Donnie Gal and
little Don, Mrs. E. W. Hood, Mrs.
Vera Rhodes, and Mrs. Leathy Kel
lums all left Friday after Xmas
for a week end in the western part
of the state. We had a wonderful
trip and a big time. We could see
the mountains from his home, so
we didn’t make the trip up on the
mountains this time like we did
last time we went. The Pilot
Mountain is not far and we got
a good view of it. Edgar Jr. and
C. W. Hood are Boy Scouts and
they hiked up on the mountain and
spend the night on the nole of
Pilot. We had a nice trip and
came back Sunday p.m. I spent
the night in Raleigh and went over
Friday, January 2, 1948
ness, my sister told me of a visi
tor in her home who was fond of
walking. After each walk she
washed the dust from her feet,
using only a little water; after
wards pouring it carefully about
the roots of flowers in the yard.
It is a bit confusing, not to say
discouraging, to find that in the
minds of some westerners we
southern church members are all
grouped more or less with the
snake-handlers. That is because
the snake-handling cult has had
so much more publicity in secular
papers than any conservative de
nomination. Even emphatic de
nial may not be wholly convinc
ing; but the truth is that I’m not
right sure I ever had religion
enough to make me take hold of a
harmless snake, let alone a poi
sonous one. And, of course, I’ve
never felt my religion called for
any such demonstration.
By the time this in print it will
be in order to wish all readers a
happy New Year. Consider it done,
heartily and sincerely.
When speaking of my husband’s
condition I feel like a cracked
phonograph record that has got
ten hung and keeps repeating the
same words; and there is nothing
new to say yet.
geon; Major Oliver Kaufman, the
exec officer; Ray Langer, who
honored me by giving his first
son the name of Barrie; Wayne
Lowry, who saved my life by
shooting a Jerry off my tail; Jim
Simmons, from Alabammy way.
Just a look at the name signed to
a card and a guy can re-live a mil
lion memories.
There were those from Zebu
lon, too. The John Terrys, the
Morris Hoods, the Norman Screws,
the Bridgers, and lots of others;
Bill Brantley, James Debnam, and
many of the other local Scouts.
There’s just not room to name
them all.
All my thanks to all of you.
And may this new year bring to
each of you the best that life of
fers. And may it bring to the
world a lasting peace.
—Barrie S. Davis
to Durham Monday and spent the
day with Mrs. R. H. Hunt, my
aunt. Two of my aunts went with
me, Mrs. L. L. Browning and Mrs.
Leathy Kellum. I spent Monday
night with Mrs. E. W. Hood and
Mrs. Donnie Gay. We had a call
from E. E. Hood at Booneville to
tell us that his wife’s brother was
dead, Opa Triplett of Winston-
Salem. He died of a heart attack
Monday morning before break
fast and we had just seen him
the day before and his wife. We
should think about how short life
is and be prepared to go any time
the Lord should call us. I don’t
know much that happened last
week because I was gone most of
the time.
It’s nice to go away and still
nicer to get back home, for there
is no place like home no matter
how humble.
By the way, Mr. C. W. Reaburn,
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