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Six Word Memoir
By Felicia Browell
Have you ever been with a new group of people and got stuck in one of those awkward silences? Maybe when you moved to a new neighborhood? In my life, I’ve had many jobs – some good, some fun, some not so good and not so fun. But they all had the common issue of getting to know at least a few of the people at work or in the neighborhood. Looking back, I wish I’d had a good icebreaker tool in my backpack. The Six Word Memoir is one I could learn to love.
Take 30 seconds to write down six words that summarize your life. For me, I’d say my words are: Learner, writer, mother, creative, farmer, and believer. I’d be more comfortable if the game allowed me to modify a few with “lifelong” or others with “new.” If we had just met and were having coffee at one of our local beaneries, I’d explain a little more when my turn came around.
I’m a lifelong learner. I can learn something from almost anyone, and learn something from every challenge. You all have different life experiences than I do, different viewpoints, different dreams, different goals. I would hope we share at least a few values, and I guess we share at least some common geography if we’re in the same county. With more than a few decades’ wear on my joints, I’m back in school again and loving the experience, even as I sometimes grumble at the homework.
I’m a near-lifelong writer. Although from kindergarten through 11th grade, English was not my favorite subject, my creative writing class as a high school senior changed that. One class, one teacher can make a big difference! Today, I write many things from fiction to technical documents, and have worked my way through times when I truly loved the craft, and truly loathed it. I’m working my way back to loving it at the moment.
I’m a mother. No need to put “lifelong” or “new” on this one. Two daughters, both grown, married, and my oldest is expecting her first child. As with all parents, the experience changed me, and I spent many a night celebrating the people they became, and soul-searching to understand the problems we had along the way.
I’m a lifelong creative. I practice a couple of art forms, although not as frequently as I’d like right now. While my creativity is often the last thing I get to express, it’s usually the one I crave the most.
I’m a new farmer. It wasn’t what I intended to do when I retired from my day job, but it’s the mission that was given to me by one who knows more than I do and has plans to prosper me. So I’ll do my best to make it happen until I’m told to do otherwise. (Yes, there’s a bigger story in there, which I’ll save for another time.)
That story ties nicely with my last word. I’m an almost-new believer. For most of my life, I subscribed to the “powers-that-be” assertion: there’s some unknowable Being greater than any human, but He turned us loose down here on this earth with free will and a thin but clear set of rules. But after a few “turning points” where terrible things almost happened, but “something” intervened and I escaped unscathed, I reconsidered the hands-off attitude. Like the time I was sitting at a red light but when the light turned green I felt a powerful surge of patience (not something I was known for at the time). I sat there and counted to three as I moved my foot to the gas pedal – on three, a pickup truck roared from the road to my left, ran the light, and continued away into the darkness. As you might guess, I sat there for another three seconds, catching my breath! That was just one example of many, but it took a few more years before I really believed. Today, I do my best to show my belief in my actions and consider that belief as part of every decision I make.
After pondering my six words, I can say they will not change in the next decade. If you have a chance, think about your Six Word Memoir. What words would you share with a new neighbor or coworker?

I Can Only Imagine
A Story of Loss
By E. Bishop
The 1999 crossover hit “I Can Only Imagine” by MercyMe, written and sung by lead singer Bard Millard is based on his years growing up with an abusive father whom later redeemed himself before his passing. At his father’s funeral, Mr. Millard’s grandmother made the comment “I can only imagine what your dad’s seeing now.” He became obsessed with that phrase and would continually write it down until he finally saw it as a sign and wrote the beautiful lyrics to this song.
I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk by Your side
I can only imagine
What my eyes would see
When Your face is before me
I can only imagine, Yeah”
While listening to this song with its accompanying video of people showing pictures of their lost loved ones, I can see how it resonates with so many people. It has a universal message of faith, hope and divine love. So, when I hear the words to this song, I think of my mother and father who lost three children at a young age and wonder how they coped with such tragedy. I don’t even pretend to understand.
Mother and Daddy were married Nov. 28, 1935 in Davidson County, N.Ca. She was 22; he was 31 years of age. In 1940, they would lose their second born son. The following was taken from the Davie Record of March 1, 1940.
“Child Burned When 140 Year Old Hanes Home Destroyed By Fire”
John Henry, 17-month old son of Mr. and Mrs. Harold (Buck) Frye who lived about two miles from Fork on the Advance road on the Hanes place, died at the Mocksville hospital last Saturday afternoon. The child was fatally burned while asleep in a cradle in the room where the fire started about 11 a.m. Not only were the home and contents totally destroyed but the family lost about $50 in money they had in the home. In addition to their supply of freshly killed meat, Mr. Frye was burned around the face, neck and one hand in rescuing the child and Mrs. Frye had one hand burned. The fire is thought to have originated behind a mantle where a brick had fallen out shortly prior to the fire. Mrs. Frye was in the kitchen preparing dinner, called her husband outside where he was at work when the fire was discovered. The funeral for the child was held Sunday afternoon at Fulton Church, with Rev. P.L. Smith officiating. The parents and a small brother survive.”
The house, about 140 years old, was one of the landmarks in Davie County. It was about 75 feet long, three large rooms in a row on the front and constructed of oak and pine logs, daubed, chinked, weather boarded and painted. One of the early American type, the home was built by Joseph Hanes, who with his brother, Jacob, Moravians from near Old Salem, settled in Fulton and each built homes there. The Jacob Hanes home is still standing. Joseph Hanes was the great grandfather of Miss Sallie and Jake Hanes of Mocksville and the grandfather of J.W. and P.H. Hanes of Winston-Salem. The Frye family are recuperating at the home of Mr. Frye’s mother. The latter’s sister, Mrs. Richard Bier, a nurse of Newark, NJ is attending them.
Taken from the Davie Record Jan. 19, 1944: “Child Hangs Self’
“Lillie Florence Fry, 16 months old daughter of Mr. and Mrs. H.H. Fry near Elbaville accidentally hung herself Sunday morning at 11 o’clock, while playing with a sewing machine. The belt accidentally got around the child’s neck and she is thought to have fallen off a chair, causing the belt to choke her. Funeral services were held at Fulton Methodist Church Monday afternoon at 3 o’clock, with Revs. J. C.S. Gentry and P.L. Smith conducting the services. Burial followed in the church cemetery. Surviving are the parents, one brother and one sister.
The last of ten children, Jimmy Lee, would succumb to a birth defect at 6 months old Feb. 12, 1957.
Losing their home, losing children and having to continue to build a solid foundation for the rest of life surely was a struggle for my parents. I doubt that would have been possible without that faith, hope and divine love.

Recollections about
Peter Stewart Ney
By Linda H. Barnette
One of the things I like about doing research in our library history room is that I often find unexpected information matter what subject I’m researching. Recently I was going through the “L” files Looking for material pertinent to the People, Not Property project when I came across some pages copied from a book called “Before and after Execution, “a recollection of the author’s father’s memories about his old teacher, Peter Stewart Ney.
Ney was supposedly one of the generals of Napoleon Bonaparte who was killed by firing squad after the downfall of Napoleon. However, many people seem to believe that the teacher, Ney, and the Marshal were one and the same.
The author of the book was John Alexander Locke of Asheboro, who swore to the veracity of his material on September 22, 1928, in Randolph County. It’s all written in the form of a letter to Dr. J. E. Smoot in Concord, North Carolina. Apparently, Dr. Smoot initiated the conversation to which John Lockee was responding.
His father had attended elementary schools in the Davie, Rowan, and Iredell area in which Mr. Ney was his teacher. We know, for example, that Ney taught right here in what is now Mocksville, in schools on Salisbury Street and perhaps Depot Street. So these memories were passed from father to son and then written to Dr. Smoot.
The most interesting recollection by Dr. Locke’s father was of his going to the post office to get Mr. Ney’s mail. The paper contained the news that Napoleon Bonaparte’s young son had died, causing Ney to be overcome with sadness, which must have been obvious to his students. Apparently, he had thought that the son would become the Emperor of France. And why would he have been so upset if it were not personal to him?
When the school term ended that year, Ney went to live with the Locke family. The Locke son, John, eventually left to study medicine in Kentucky. When he returned, he settled at Osborne Foard’s land in Rowan Mills. Mr. Foard built an office where Dr. Locke and Peter Ney both lived. Ney continued to teach in various schools in the area.
When Ney became ill in 1846, Dr. Locke, John Locke’s father, called in several other local doctors to check on his friend. He finally told Ney that his illness was fatal and told Ney that he wanted to know his true identity. Ney’s response was this: “I will not die with a lie on my mouth; I am Marshal Ney, the Bravest of the Brave, Napoleon Bonaparte’s right-hand bower.”
Through these many years, scholars have tried to prove Ney’s identity. His body was exhumed 3 times with inconclusive results. The latest group of scholars from France were able to find DNA on his flute at Davidson College and determined that he was not the Marshal, but those of us who are dreamers still wonder.