Newspapers / The Perquimans Weekly (Hertford, … / March 19, 1987, edition 1 / Page 6
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Perspective Wildflowers on the hill She shuffled to the kitchen and yanked back the curtain without so much as glancing out the window. Her A "sweetened" skillet was ready on the stove, a skillet aged properly by the years, just like her. In a few moments, she was enjoying hot cof fee with bits of melted cheese float ing on the top, and a small helping of grits with a "dollup" of butter that nudged against golden brown ham. All that ccolor and flavor. It seemed a shame she didn't have the appetite these days to do it justice. But she'd go through the motions anyway. The shadow of a bird outside the window caught her eye and made her look beyond the glass. Slowly, she placed the cup back on the saucer and sat for a long time grazing across the farm. "The hill is greening," she finally whispered aloud to herself. And she returned to her coffee with a smile, and to her plate with a hunger she had not known for months. She could expect lots of brief ap pearances and many sudden vanish ings, but once that old earth got fin ished yawning and stretching itself, it would eventually rub its eyes wide awake and set about to paint the hill. One day it would be nice enough to plow in shirt sleeves, and the next day the cold and rain would mire down the tractors and freeze up men's breaths in puffs of fog. But, once the skies warmed and the days lengthened, she'd have liquid gold mornings and shady afternoons for a long time to come. Because the hill was greening. And Spring had ar rived. And not far behind would come the wildflowers. She went back and forth to the win dow all day long, peeking out, then returning to her chores, then peeking out again. Last week, it was brown and barren, but overnight the hill had become thinly veiled with green again. And that placed a song in! her heart, caused a quickeness in her step, and brought a flood of gentle memories to her mind ; memories as beautiful and as varied as the texture of the wildflowers that would soon cover the hill again. Together they had cleared the fields and made this little farm pro duce. The two of them had brought out the mules and "leaned to the plow" from dawn until dusk. But sometimes, with giddy abandon, they had taken a whole afternoon off and spent it picking wildflowers up on the hill. It was just a big mound, actually, but tall enough to see every corner of the farm from, and tall enough they could see it from every corner, and be reminded not to forget about the hill. Whether summer burned his skin, harvest broke his back, snow fell si lent over the corn stubble or pink phlox carpeted the ground, he'd al ways say to her.. ."Come on Millie. It's time to go to the hill." Sometimes they went in silence, sometimes they spoke of dreams for the future, some times they laughed, and a few times they cried when going to the hill. But they went, no matter what the sea son, for an afternoon now and then. Just for the two of them. Just be cause. Sometimes he tucked a violet or a wild rose in her hair, once a pebble in her pocket, and one day he sliced open a pine cone to show her the beauty of its flowery heart. And they'd come back and fill the whole house with bunches of wildflowers stuck in quart jars. All over the place. Just because. At first they had raced each other to the top, but the years slowed that to a gentle walk, till finally it became a journey of combined strength to reach the crest. But soon she would return one last time to watch the gen tleness of spring spread out below her. And, before she left, she'd fill her apron with bounty from the hill, her soul with memories of the past, and her heart v ith the warm knowl edge that he was still watching her, as sure as the dew was on the daffo dil, picking wildflowers on the hill. Foster united with White She had buried two husbands. She had a thriving business keeping an ordinary in a prime location. She was a friend of the governor and all the government of the province as well. She had the government meeting at her house. Diana Harris Foster was bidding fair to be Perquimans' num ber one woman in 1694. Whether she was lonely or whether she needed help with the business the records do not say. An active woman with two marriages behind her, ad vancint in age (probably near fifty, quite old in that time), Diana was no likely candidate for silly notions about romance. Whatever the reasons, in the spring of 1694 Diana gave way to "hope, trust, and confidence" and accepted Thomas White's promises to be a "true, loving, and faithful husband." The third husband took charge of Diana's whole estate. With him Di ana housed the sittings of the Gover nor and Council, Palatine Court, Gen eral Court, and Albemarle County Court. They constantly associated with the aristocracy of Carolina. In a matter of months White proved to be no gentleman. By slight, neglect, and disregard he gave Diana great greif, trouble, and sorrow. He sold many of the goods and furniture to pay his many debts. Then came a day when Thomas grabbed Diana by the shoulder, shoved her out the door, and shouted, "Take your clothes and bed and be gone, and I will allow you ten pounds a year to maintain you." Kicked out of the house; her house at that, not his. The tyrant even took the bed and furniture from Diana, leaving her "destitute of a convenient lodging and all other necessaries." The re jected wife turned to the courts for relief. Since she requested the au thorities merely to order she be given sufficient property to maintain her, Diana must not have intended trying to patch things up with Thomas. The house was hers and the prop erty hers. How could this disgraceful husband take it from her? The law of the time gave the husband almost complete control of any property his wife had acquired, so that what was hers was also not hers in the end. Di ana had to endure the consequences of making an ill advised third mar riage. There was only one way out of the marriage. Diana had to endure the marriage only two years before her freedom came, thanks to an out side force no husband could withs tand for long. (Part 4 next week.) A = People use more than twice as much margarine as butter in the United States. BE WISE - ADVERTISE! Business Builders If you are a new business or a business who does not advertise frequently You can advertise weekly for as little as ?1.60 Weekly for 52 Weeks *2.00 Weekly for 26 Weeks *2.50 Weekly for 13 Weeks (Copy Changes Will Be Once A Week) Call Anzie at 428-1 r It's still fun to play "Travel" with coke bottle bottoms We are judged by those things we leave behind Every mowing in Africa, a gazelle wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning a lion wakes up. It knows it must outrun the slo west gazelle or it will starve to death. It doesn't matter whether you are a lion or a gazele; when the sun comes up, you'd better be running. These words appear on a poster, author unlisted, reprinted by Georgia-Pacific. Co-worker Jessie Simons has it taped to the wall near the coffee pot, and I guess I have read it a hundred times. It is a good message and can be interpreted in many ways. To many, the message probably means we should face each new day in high gear, ready to face whatever develops. To me, there is a different statement here. It reminds me that, regardless our status in this world, regardless our strengths, we all face a similar challenge in life. Alexander the Great was puzzled to find the philospher Diogenes examin ing a heap of human bones. "What are you looking for?-" he in quired. "I am searcching for the bones of your father," the philospher replied, "but I cannot distinguish them from those of his slaves." Just as the graceful gazelle and the fearless lion must compete equally in this world to survive, so must man. It doesn't make any difference to eter nity what position we hold in 'his life. Time alone will judge us all equally, whether we are a lion or a gazelle, a king or a slave. Often we view ourselves in life in the image of the powerful lion. Man has distinguished himself as the cen ter of the universe, believing all things were created for his pleasure. Rather than live in harmony with our world, we try to rule it. In search of our pleasures, we have little regard for other living creatures and the beauty of a world that we are slowly destroying. Nature teaches harmony in life, but man, in his ultimate wisdom, fails to follow. If two goats meet each other in a narrow path above a stream of water, what do they do? They can't turn back, and they can't pass each other, for there is not an inch of room. Instinctively, they know if they butt each other, both will fall into the water below and drown. What would they do? Nature has taught one goat to lie ( down so the other can pass over its body; as a result, each goat arrives at its destination safe and sound. - ~ % When God created man, he gave as abilities unlike other animals. We have the ability to reason, to think, to ' love, and mo6t important, we have a | soul or conscious. With these special - gifts, we were assigned the responsi- > bilily of being caretakers of our ' world. If necessary, man, like the goat, must learn to lie down to assure ? the safe passage of the universe. ? i When we leave this world, the only things we will take with us are the things we have given away. Whether J we live as the strongest lion or the fastest gazelle, a king or slave, to morrow will judge us by what we have left behind. Nothing else will J matter. wnite purchases station 20 YEARS AGO W.A. White New Owner Bus Sta tion: W.A. (Billy) White, has pur chased and assumed management of the Hertford Bus Station. He has a franchise with the Carolina Coach Co., and this will be the bus station in Hertford for Trailways Bus. White, who also is employee of the Hertford Post Office, purchased the building from Elliott heirs and began opera tion of the business early this month. Mr. White is married to the former Miss 11a Grey who is Perquimans County Home Agent. The couple has one child, a daughter. Herring Running Is Sign Of Spring: The herring are reported to be start ing to run, with small catches being reported by local fisherman. The real herring run, is not expected until early in April/* Brock Winsitav Celebrates First Birthday: Brqcjf Winslow celebrated his first birthday on March 3, 1969. He is the son of Mr. and Mrs. William T. Winslow of Windsor. Mrs. Winslow is the former Miss Susan B rough ton. > 1 ?'.< 19?0 137C, LOCMISiC By VIRGINIA WHITE "nVANSE/t> Grandparents are Mr. and Mrs John Broughton, Jr., of Hertford and Mr. and Mrs. Linford Winslow of Belvi dere. Hertford Municipal Election Slated May 6: The Town of Hertford Munici pal election for two members of the Board will be held Tuesday, May 6th. The seats on the Board open are those presently held by Cecil Winslow and Henry C. Sullivan. Spring's Here: Martins Arrive: Spring is officially here, and the Mar tins arrived at the Billy Winslow home on Cresent Drive in Hertford on Saturday, according to Janice Winslow. THE PERQUIMANS WEEKLY Established In 1932 Published Each Thursday By The Daily Advance. Elizabeth City, N.C. Second Class Postage Paid at Hertford, N.C. 27944 USPS 428-080 Gina K. Jepson Editor / Carol A. O'Neal > " Advertising Manager ONE YEAR MAIL SUBSCRIPTION RATES In-County C ?t-Of-County '10.00 *11.00 1 1 9 West Grubb Street P.O. Box 277 Hertford, N.C. 27944 Member North Caroline Press Association National Newspaper Association North Carolina Association of Community Nswt^ojwrs TRY CLASSIFIEDS! NEWS COUPON The news and editorial staff of the Perquimans Weekly would like you to tell us what kind of stories you like to see in the paper. If there is something or someone you feel is impor tant ? or some provocative issue you would like us to exam ine ? please, let us know. Just clip and fill out this coupon. Include as many details as possible (Names, addressses, telephone numbers, etc.) It may not be possible for us to use some of the stories sug gested but we are always looking for new ideas. So, next time you think of something you feel would make a good story, send it to: News Coupon, Perquimans Weekly, P.O. Box 277, Hertford, N.C. 27944. STORY IDEA: COMMENTS: I The Perquimans Weekly 119 W. Grubb St. Hertford 426-3728 A
The Perquimans Weekly (Hertford, N.C.)
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March 19, 1987, edition 1
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