Smyrna times., 1944-10-19
The
What Not Shelf

By Louise Hoffecker Burslem
The time has come, the walrus said.
To talk of many things;
Of ships and shoes and sealing wax,
And cabbages and kings.
Yes, the time has come to talk
of many things, but I want to
talk of .Smyrna-because I am
leaving it. Probably anyone who
has loved Smyrna and left it will
understand. Towns are like people
there is both good and bad in
them. AS with people, one has to
weigh the good against the bad, so
that the proportion of one counter
balances the other. With Smyrna,
the side of the scale marked" Good"
outweighs all that can be said
against it.
Everyone has his own personal
reasons for loving this town. Some
times, like tree, you love the spot
where your roots go down deep,
where the sun shines on you and
the winds are kind. This, too, is
part of Smyrna to me. Smyrna
means the Four Corners and the
maple trees, the Post Office and
lovely old homes. the quiet on a
Sunday afternoon. Smyrna means
sidewalks that need repair, and the
Town Hall clock; the dogwood
trees at Wilson's in the spring, and
the maple tree at Lurty's in the
autumn. Smyrna to me means the
venerable Times Office and our
house ON "Herrin' Hip; the fields
and woodlands at the end of South
street. Smyrna means Lake Como
and Huckleberry Point, Lovers
Lane" and dog trials. Smyrna
means church suppers and fire.
mems carnivals, and personally it
means the charm and dignity of
the little Episcopal church on
Union street.
Smyrna is the smell of peanuts
roasting in front of Mr.. Stills
store, and the sound of the fire
siren each noon, and the taste of
the clear, cold spring water.
Smyrna is memories - memories
of childhood with it's roller skating
and birthday parties, of basketball
games and school dances, of the
soda shops of Jeff Scout and Keiths
and Snaps, of Shedding on Gem
etery Hill and walking to Duck
Greek to picnic by the falls. Smyr-
ma is memories of the funny little
car DR.. Dwight drove about town;
of the old rattletrap, painted in
gay colors, that Bill Roe called
"The Derriere"; and of 'The Dunn
my" shutting back and forth be-
tween here and Clayton. Smyrna
is the memory of persons no longer
here.
But more than anything else,
Smyrna means the people in it. 1t
means friends - some of long
standing, some comparatively new,
some very young, some very old
friends without whom any person
or any town is meaningless and
void and bereft. To me, Smyrna
means the young people-the Teen
Ayers, the Girl Scouts, the school
children-the boys and girls who,
although young, have a good sense
of values, and will make the future
Smyrna when the rest of us are
doddering. Smyrna means the old
people-men and women who have
lived and done and seen all there
is to know of birth and love, JOY
and death. And Smyrna means
dogs, too-first, my own Buttons"
and Punk" Lower and Patsy"
Thornley, and Friday" Coverdale
and "Pal" DeFord and "Kimmel"
King, and king" Bell and Rusty"
Jacobs-and many more.
So to all my friends, this will be
"so-long for awhile" To those of
you who are kind enough to read
this column, many thanks for your
interest-and perhaps, every now
and then, you might be surprised
by a guest visit. My new work
takes me to Red Bank, N. j., on a
daily newspaper, and from there
maybe career in New York
maybe back to Delaware. But
wherever I go, whatever I do
there always will be a part of me
in Smyrna-and part Of Smyrna
always will be with me.
Goodbye. But don't sigh with
relief and think you are rid Of me!
I'll be back!