NEWS FROM THE HILLS
Dear Cousin,
A bouquet of water honeysuckle sits on my kitchen table, perfuming the room with the sweet, nostalgic fragrance of the past. I can close my eyes and feel my mind drifting back into the past … back down on Big Laurel Creek. We always went down on Big Laurel on the Fourth of July. The dirt road ended at the top of the ridge, and we walked the winding path down past the family cemetery, and on down the steep hill to the waters of Big Laurel. We carried the picnic basket, jugs of lemonade, the ritual watermelon, and the two smallest babies. It was a hard trek in, but unthinkable to spend the Fourth of July holiday anywhere else.
The place held special memories for both Mom and Dad. Mom was born and raised there, the youngest daughter of eleven children. She was familiar with each ripple of the creek, each hole of water, and the many moods of Big Laurel. She had skated on its surface when it was frozen over for the entire winter. All the family gathered to watch “the ice go out” when the spring thaw came. In the springtime, the suckers came up from Elk River to spawn, and she and her sister Addie made pin hooks and tied them to a pole cut from the numerous saplings that surrounded them. Lying on their stomachs on a big rock, they hauled in their catch. Fresh fish tasted so good after their wintertime diets of dry beans and cured pork.
Mom knew intimately each hole of water in Big Laurel. The creek was clear and clean, and much deeper than it is now. There was a deep hole near the house where they fished, and also provided daily baths in warm weather. Big Rock Hole was deeper, and was their favorite swimming hole. This was a special place for Daddy also. He and Mom lived in the old house the first two years of their marriage, and I was born there.
Although it was during the Depression and times were hard, there was happiness in the humble little home. Sentimental memories lingered there for my parents. For us youngsters, however, the Fourth of July was a day for us to romp and play. After devouring the picnic meal of fried chicken (a couple of Mom’s spring roosters were sacrificed for our meal), potato salad, and fresh green beans from the garden, we were more than ready to go swimming.
We always had to wait a half hour after eating, and it seemed that the time would never pass. I can still feel that first rush of cool water when we were finally permitted to jump into that swimming hole. We had contests to see who could stay underwater the longest, and would exhale the air from our lungs and sink to the bottom. It was an idyllic setting, secluded from the world and peaceful. Thickets of rhododendrons lined the creek bank with clusters of pinkish-white blooms adorning their branches.
Tall hemlocks shaded the whole area, and white water honeysuckle bloomed at the water’s edge. There is no way to describe the scent of water honeysuckle. It is a sweet, haunting fragrance that lingers through the years and brings back the memory of Big Laurel Creek. We were young and carefree then; the worries and cares of life were far in the future. We had life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, although we did not realize it then. We merely knew that it was a day to have a good time, not realizing the ultimate cost that was paid that we might have our freedom.
Even today, our brave armed forces are still battling on foreign fields to ensure the liberty that we too often take for granted. We cannot honor enough those men and women who are still fighting, or those who have fallen in battle. Like children, we go blindly on our way, seeking a good time and not considering the cost that is still being paid. The ending of the Gettysburg Address by Abraham Lincoln concludes with these words: “That we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation under God shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.”
It is a sad fact that our nation has drifted far from the godly principles instituted by these great men of the past, men who signed the Declaration of Independence with these final words, “And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our Sacred Honor.” It is high time for us as a nation to fall on our knees before the Almighty God in repentance and ask for divine guidance — only then can we rejoice in the freedom that He can give. Give everyone my love,
Love,
Cousin Alyce Faye
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