George Singleton tells of remarkable sunrise in January 1995

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “When all else fails to make you feel better, try a sunrise,” was originally published in the Jan. 19, 1995 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

Many people do many things to gain peace of mind and to have a few moments of total contentment. They travel great distances and spend considerable amounts of money to experience these times of peace within themselves.

I don’t confess to be smart, but I think man can find no greater peace within himself than to seek out a place where he can witness God’s creation around him. In selecting this place, he must feel that he is a part of his surroundings and that the passage of time has no meaning.

So it was with me, Sunday, Jan. 8. As I have stated many times in my writings, I have some sad memories of a past Christmas. Needing to try and clear my mind of those memories, I arose early that Sunday and headed out, seeking a place where peace of mind and nature’s surroundings would be my companions.

The crisp early-morning air brought tears to my eyes as I headed north toward the hill country. As I sped out of town, I didn’t know just what awaited me there in the distance, but I knew that whatever it was, it would be wonderful and refreshing.

Turning off the paved road onto the trail that would carry me to my destination, I knew I had made the right decision. The eastern skies had already begun to lighten with the approaching dawn.

I hurried to that spot where the view of the huge valley spread before me. Looking across the vastness below, I knew that the passage of time meant nothing to anything in these surroundings except myself. I knew that perhaps a thousand years had passed without the vastness before me changing. Man was the only thing that had changed; the small part of the creation before me was as it had always been.

Hoping to halt the movement of time within this place of peace, I removed my wristwatch and placed it in my pocket. I knew if you could look back across the spaces of time, the view that I was seeing was probably the same that it had been a thousand or so years ago. I began to realize once again just how small man is in this place we call our universe.

Looking to my right, the eastern skies had begun to burst forth with the magnitude of the rising sun. The reddish purple clouds rolled forth as though some giant unseen hand was gently pushing them aside, making way for the huge ball of light that was slowly beginning to bring light to a darkened world.

As the bright rays of the rising sun slowly pierced the hanging shadows across the huge valley, the timber below seemed to reach up toward the heavens as though trying to grasp the bright glowing shafts of the morning sunrise.

As the rising sun slowly pushed the shadows from the vast valley below, the purplish hills in the distance seemed to rise up from nowhere and take their place on the distant horizon. As I stood there and marveled at the spectacle I was witnessing, I realized that everything was being done in perfect and complete detail. Not even the smallest particle of the event had been overlooked or left out. The planning had been perfect; the God and creator of all the universe had seen to that.

Across the valley, the brightness of the coming morning seemed to give life to everything that grew. As far as the eye could see, the sounds of the morning grew in magnitude as if all life below had awakened from a deep sleep.

The vastness of the creation before me was something to behold. As I watched the changing of the morning colors, I knew that I, too, had been changed. Instead of sad memories from the past, I now felt refreshed and eager to witness and be a part of the happenings around me. I had journeyed to my special place of healing; the trip had not been in vain.

The great ball of reddish fire in the eastern sky had now risen above the distant horizon. The red and purple haze was fast fading from across the hilltops. The hilltops in the distance now stood as guardian sentinels for the valley below. Morning had now come to the world around me. A new day had been born in its fullness, and I had been a witness to its birth.

With deep regret, I knew that regardless of the timeless beauty around me, I, as man on this earth, had a schedule to live by. To live in harmony with my fellow man, I had to abide with the rules and the time table set forth for man to follow. A bit of sadness came over me as I reached into my pocket and brought forth the instrument that the total human race hinges its life and activities on.

Looking at the face of my watch, I knew that I must go from the scenic place of beauty and return to my place in life. Other lives now entwined with mine; their happiness and well being were now a part of my responsibility.

With one last look across the beautiful deep valley, I raised my arms toward the heavens and recited the prayer of an ancient Wind Walker, or Indian Holy Man.

O Great Spirit, give me strength
That I may stroll across the land
And marvel at thy creation
And the beauty before me.
Guide my steps to where the wild flowers
Sway in the morning winds.
Let me smell the fragrance
Of the beautiful goldenrods,
As I rest in the shade of the mighty cottonwood.
Let me know thy presence, as I feel
The bark of the birch tree while I view
The heavens above me. Let me rest
Under the tall pines of the mountain,
While listening to the lullaby of the winds.
Give me sight so I may see the fowls
Of the air as they wing their way
To the lofty heights. Let me view
The mighty eagle as he rides the winds
Of the evening and soars into the
Shadows of the setting sun.
And when the shadows of this life gather
On the distant horizon, and I stand in thy presence,
Let me be judged for my love of thy
Beauty and thy creation.

(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, was bitten at least twice by venomous snakes, 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.)