Stream beside rest area: dancing waters, empty beer cans. |
Man has through the years returned to the wilderness to relax and refresh himself when the problems of our society become too great a burden.
Throughout our country, one finds many places where he can get away from the hustle and pressure of everyday life. Such a place can be found beside a small crystal stream on what is called Ajax Road.
Much time and effort has been spent by the large timber company that owns this property so the people of this area may enjoy this picturesque location. I have many, many times camped beside the rushing waters of the swift, clear stream and listened to the music of the dancing waters.
Winds’ lullaby
I have slept under the protective branches of the young water oaks many nights while the sighing winds hummed a sleepy lullaby. I have awakened in the morning and watched the first rays of dawn chase away the last dark shadows of the night before.
I have watched nature’s children come alive with the rising sun and begin their day with purpose and harmony. I have smelled the aroma of breakfast cooking over an open fire as I watched the pale blue smoke from the burning wood drift slowly skyward.
I have felt the cool tingling feeling after bathing my face in the cold, clear waters of the rushing stream.
It was these fond memories that prompted me to return to the area by Ajax Road one week after Labor Day. But things were not the same as I remembered.
Where once the sweet smell of the woods welcomed, the stench of decaying garbage rent the air.
Plates, spoons, forks
Soiled paper plates and plastic spoons and forks littered the area. Scattered beer cans and food wrappings lay here and there as though a giant unseen hand had cast them to the winds.
Man with all his filth and carelessness had arrived. What once was a place of beauty and tranquility had become a dumping ground for the waste of a few whose eyes were blind to the majestic surroundings. A few whose love for nature could only be seen in the dirt and filth left behind in their wake.
As I waded the stream and picked the empty beer cans and food wrappers from the cool water, I thought of the vanity of it all.
No more like this
Soon man would cover the good earth with his waste and debris. No more would there be places like this little park where one could come and rest and embrace with nature.
No more could man sleep beside a cool, clear stream without the smell of decaying garbage. No more could he rest his eyes on the soft green grass without the reflections of rusting beer cans flashing in the sun.
As I turned from the filth and rubbage that lay before me, the feeling of despair and sorrow came over me. I felt a part of the agony that man will feel when the earth rebels against our carelessness, and the shadows of decay and destruction darken the sun.
(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand, lived for a time among Apache Indians, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964 and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He also helped organize the Monroe County Museum and Historical Society and was also a past president of that organization. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)
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