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urr^ij vjohnron- * ' %MemoriesMany weeks ago I returned to a cemetery I had not visited since leaving that community. I was Impressed with the enlargement of the burying ground. But I missed the old-fashioned Quaker Meetinghouse where men and boys sat on one side and women and girls on the other. It was no surprise It was not standing. It must have been a century old when I knew It. How -ever, I was shocked to learn that die later building erected to take Its place had also disappeared. Old Quaker families had died out or moved away. People who moved in were of different faith and mind, so the last structure was sold and moved away.The part of the cemetery I re -m embered was unchanged. Carved cm tombstones were names of people whom I had known and loved.Here was the name of a young man who did his best to make me a good i squirrel hunter. At a little distance was die name of his father, a veteran of the Civil War who had accompanied Sherman on his “march to the sea.” I always liked to 'visit him. He would fasten his old sword to my belt and drill me back and forth across the yard In obedience to his loudly shouted commands. Then, a little ways removed, was the name of die whomanwho “sat head of the Meeting” and who encouraged my becoming a minister. I shall never forget the time she stamped her foot and said, “Thee must preach. Thee must wait no longer.” Most of the people I knew during those days were sleep -ing in the cemetery. The flood of years had swept them jnfn die forever gone past, but what wonderful memoriesthey invoked.We all have our memories. They must be God’s gift to man. In this camera conscious age, people take pic -tores that later they may look at persons and occasions of former years. In the less active part of life most people enjoy reliving through memory the things of die past A poet once exclaimed, “Let me remember only lovely things. The scattered smiles of children at their play. The spreading glory of dying day. The clear blue sky tbit follows Summer rain. Beauty shall enfold each thought I shall remember wily lovely things.”On the banks of the James River a husband carved on the tombstone of his wife, who had been one of the hundred maidens that came in 1619 to marry die tonely settlers,‘ ‘She touched the soil of Virginia with her little foot and the wilderness became a home. I shall always reme Therefore, l$t us open wide the gates of memory and call home the dreams of yesterday. Remember die gay glad hours, the hope of joys to be. When all life’s, songs are sung, then let us open wide the gates of memory to treasures loved of old.
Newspaper Details
Marion Farm News
Marion, Indiana, US
Fri, Aug 22, 1975
Page 12
Full Page
Clipped by
Greg H.
IN, USA 07 Apr 2020
Other Publications Near Marion, Indiana
Marion Socialist
Marion Labor Sentinel
Marion Freedoms Banner
Marion Farm News
