Perspective
Perquimans County People drive with
one hand on the wheel
and one hand waving
?
Don't allow your dreams to die ... keep them alive
While visiting her doctor, a 72
ye^J-old woman proceeded to list all
her-ailments, both real a imaginary.
She seemed most concerned, how
ever, about a recurring dream. In the
dregm, a handsome young man pur
sued her and kept trying to kiss her.
The doctor listened patiently, mak
ing notes of each ailment. When she
was done, he discussed the real com
plaints with her, advising her on
what action to take. For the dreams,
he suggested some medicine to help
her sleep more soundly, thinking that
deeper sleep would cause her to for
get them. A week later, the woman
was back, and seemed more con
cerned than ever. "Don't tell me you
are still having problems sleeping,"
said the doctor.
"Oh, I'm sleeping fine," she re
plied, "she replied, "but I sure do
miss that young man!"
Like so many of us, she had traded
her dreams for something else, and
discovered she had lost more than
she gained.
It is a sad thing to allow our
dreams to die. We all have dreams.
Sometimes we disguise them by call
ing them something else. Maybe we
call them goals, or ideas, but they're
really dreams waiting to become
reality. We dream about our lives;
about what we plan to do with our
time on earth. We dream about the
future, and assemble in our minds
the way we would" like tomorrow to
be. We dream about our families,
about where we would like to be spiri
tually or financially. We are always
dreaming about, or for, something.
But, as life wil have it, reality
strikes and we postpone a dream
here, another there, or we try to stop
dreaming altogether.
Perhaps some dreams aren't very
realistic in the first place. Maybe we
dreamed for too much. But maybe
some dreams were good and we
never realized them because we al
lowed them to wither away and even
tually die. Like the last embers of a
smoldering fire will die without more
wood, dreams that are ignored will
fade away.
Maybe we should remember how to
dream as we did when we were chil
dren. I recall so wel time spent lying
in the cool grass on a summer day,
watching the clouds drift by, my
head full of dreams. It was so easy
then to dream, to hope, to wonder.
I especially remember one dream.
It was a dream and a wish for a toy I
knew couldn't have. The local John
Deere dealer had a display of various
toy tractors, combines and other
equipment in the front window of the
building. As often as I could, whether
they were open or not, I'd stop and
stand for hours, looking into the win
dow and dreaming about the toys.
I imagined all the fun I could have if I
had just one of the tractors, and per
haps a trailer or a plow to go with it.
Though I never did get the tractor,
I didn't stop dreaming about it. Per
haps my dream has become reality
today as I now have a John Deere
garden tractor with a trailer an va
rious implements. While it doesn't
make up for all the hours I spent with
my nose pressed against the glass so
many years ago, having it does sat
isfy a dream.
We can't stop dreaming because
they don't all become reality. In the
book of Timothy, Paul encourages
his friends to "fan into flame" the
spirit that is within him. In other
words, don't allow your dreams to
die. Keep them alive. They just
might come true.
Perquimans soldiers plan for area invasion
In February 1862 Perquimans
County was in fear of invasion. Half
the population dreaded the arrival of
the Union Army, so much so that the
threat "The Yankees'll get you!"
would be used to frighten children for
years thereafter.
Less openly, the other half of the
county's inhabitants looked to the
coming of federal forces as a promise
of better days. Slaves hoping for free
dom, Quakers hoping for peace, and
pro-Unionists hoping for the restora
tion of "legitimate" government
were not supporters of the Confeder
ate authority.
County authorities had disposed
the few militia men left far local de
fense. Nearly all the men with any
military training had gone into the
Confederate Army, so only old men,
boys, the sick, the disaffected, and
the ineligible remained.
To the east, Perquimans' own
"John Harvey Guards" stood in the
path of the enemy. Most of the
"Guards" had been in service since
Capt Lucius J. Johnson had enlisted
them the previous May.
Captain Johnson had already had a
taste of warfare, having opposed the
federals at Hatteras in August. He
had known war was not patriotic ro
manticism, having been captured
and imprisoned in Boston for several
months. He was released just in time
to face his opponents again.
Second in command of the
"Guards" was Thomas H. Gilliam,
who had a brother-in-law safe (for
the moment) with the "Perquimans
Beauregards" in the defenses around
New Bern.
Sergeants in the "Guards" were
Francis Barrow, William F. Stokes,
Richard H. Leigh, and Uriah W.
Speight. Corporals were Wilson L.
Mardre, Noah Felton, James M.
Skinner, and Henry C. Stokes.
Privates in the "Guards" included
farmers, clerks, merchants, sailors,
carpenters, millers, and tailors? all
turned soldier.
Since the fall of 1861 the "Guards"
had been in garrison on Roanoke Is
land at Fort Bartow, "a sand fort
well covered with turf, having six
long 32-pound guns in embrasure and
three 32-pounders en barbette." Pro
tecting the western side of the island,
the fort was an important part of the
Albemarle defenses. Perhaps it was
there that Quarter a Master Matthew
O. Jordan had erected wooden bar
racks, the men "having never been
furnished with tents."
Through the winter there was little
to do but to drill and check equipment
and plan for the day when the fort
would come under hostile fire. In the
first week of February that day did
come.
(Part 3 next week.)
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"One letter.. .too late"
With guilt-ridden shame and emo
tional conflict, I read her letter over
and over all day long. I left it lying on
my desk and went to start lunch, then
returned and read it all again. I filled
the washing machine and the dryer,
and I read the letter. I filed the wood
boxes and dusted the house, and read
the letter. All day long, I'd do a
chore, then pick up the letter and
read it again. And all day long I was
filled with an emptiness and a long
ing to turn the weeks around. All day
long, between every chore and on ev
ery hour, I'd read that letter and
cried.
There was no need to try to get se
rious writing done. The features and
short stories and poems would just
have to wait. I couldn't concentrate.
Not with her letter laying so heavy in
my hand and hard across my heart.
Her shaky handwriting was
scrawled over the wrinkled page. She
said her hands hurt, but she'd been
quilting again. She told me she'd
been cooking something from an old
family recipe, and she also said:
"I don't know why I keep thinking
of you so much girl. You remind me
of some of my family back when the
years were young. I just loved seeing
you. It meant so much to me. I can't
hardly walk without my stick, and
sitting does me just as bad. I am al
most down, but I am fighting to keep
going, trying not to be such a burden.
I know I am. But it's not my will to be
on anybody or make it hard for any
one. Gail, I hate to try to write be
cause I have forgot how to spell and
sometimes spell one thing and write
another. Then lay it down someplace
and can't ever find it again. I can't
read this myself, so I hope you can.
Please take all the mistakes as love,
for if it won't love in my heart, I
would not even try to write. But, if
you have time, I would appreciate a
letter from you. I get so lonely some
times and you make my heart smile.
I love you. Please write to me." And
it was signed my great-aunt.
It was on one of those rare days
when I happened to be nearby, that I
stopped to see her. I found her on the
screened-in porch, humming an old
hymn and thumbing through her Bi
ble. She welcomed me with open
arms, and told me of how much she
r
Ctf GAIL R.06ERS0N
EASTERN
ECHOES
V
missed her flower garden and her
husband's gentle blue eyes.
Then we went inside, and she set
tled me in a chair near the piano. I
lost all sense of time as the two of
them melted together.
Those old hymns spilled out of her
and onto that keyboard with a magic
that held me spellbound, oblivious to
anything but the worn ivories,
wrinkled fingers, and the peaceful
ness of just being there. w
Though it was late when I finally *
left her that afternoon, I came away
with a light heart and a satisfied
mind. A part of my past was now
welded in my soul. A woman I had
known far too little about and seen
far too few times, had now merged
with the woman I was. For she was
my great-aunt, and a part of me, and
me her, and I loved her, and was so
thankful for that afternoon.
So, how could I have been so ne
glectful? Why did I let my priorities .
slip like this? How could I have for
gotten her letter? I didn't forget her.
I thought of her often. But, She didn't
know that.. .because I forget her let
ter. I let it get lost benath a pile of
manuscripts and rewrites and re
search. All useles, unimportant pa
pers compared to that sweet old
woman and what she represented to
me. And yet, I let it stay there at the
bottom of that pile. I let all this time W
pass. I answered all my mail from
editors and readers and made doubly
sure I had paid all the bills. Yet my
great-aunt's simple request lay for
gotten upon my desk. Until today.
But now it's too late. Too late to call
and say I'm sorry. Too late to write
and apologize for taking so long. Too
late for anything. Except regret, and
guilt, and the tear-stained reality
that, for my last great-aunt, I will al
ways be... one letter too late.
Looking back
20 YEARS AGO
American Legion Auxiliary First
District Meeting To Be Held April 16:
Mrs. Tim Craig, Sr. Department
President of North Carolina Ameri
can Legion Auxiliary, from Char
lotte, will give the address at the An
nual District Meeting of the 1st
District meeting of the American Le
gion Auxiliary to be held in Hertford,
Wednesday, April 16th at the William
Paul Stallings American Legion Post
126, located on the corner of West
Academy Street.
Harry Winslow Hurt In Accident:
Harry Winslow, local lumberman,
received a severe cut hand last
Thursday while at work in the log
woods. Mr. Winslow's left hand was
cut, and he was taken to the hospital
where 13 stitches were required to
close the wound.
Man Injured Slightly In Accident:
Johnnie Howell, 25, Rt. 1, Hertford,
was treated and released from Cho
wan Hospital Saturday following a w
one-car accident on U.S. 17 six miles
South of Hertford. Howell told State
Highway Patrolman Y.Z. Newberry
that he "blacked out" and the car
legt the road and struck a telephone
pole.
Donald Perry Given Scholarship:
Donald Perry, senior at Perquimans "
County High School, has been - '
awarded a College Scholarship given
by the Committee on Scholarships at _
Wake Forest University. The amount
of the award is $1,000 and is renewa
ble at the end of each school year.
Donald is the son of Mr. and Mrs. De
wey Perry, Jr. of Et. 1, Hertford.
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good story, send it to: News Coupon, Perquimans Weekly,
P.O. Box 277, Hertford. N.C. 27944.