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| George Buster Singleton |
The Holy Bible tells us that there’s a time for everything. A time to work, a time to play, a time to laugh, and a time to cry. If you read far enough, this passage covers just about everything.
Within a few short weeks, the time will be at hand to put into practice some of the above scripture. As the early days of spring approach, the time will be at our fingertips to look at nature in all its splendor and cast aside all the prejudices and misgivings that dwell within our hearts and minds. The time will be such that we can open our hearts and eyes to the endless beauty and creation that surrounds us on this earth.
The time will be at hand to exercise the love that has been stalemated within us and bud forth, seeking the beauty in the thousands and thousands of simple things that are so often overlooked in our hurry to get ahead in this crazy, mixed-up world.
I know that it is a little late for the customary New Year’s resolutions, but it’s not too late to promise yourself to look, seek and enjoy all that has been placed here by the creator.
Promise yourself that each day a small insignificant flower or blossoms will be looked at and examined in detail. Promise yourself that life will be more enjoyable, that more time will be spent on the minor, less-noticeables that grow in the rocks and hard-to-get places.
Few among us have stopped and taken time to examine a small, blooming violet or a short, unnoticed jonquil that grows deep in the corner of the yard fence.
Beauty is always to be found if you look long enough. Take, for example, a dangerous, ugly rattlesnake. If you look closely, you will see that the patches on the skin of a snake are always exact and the edges are square, as though an instrument was used to draw the exact patterns.
Look ever closer, and you will see the deepness of the colors of the skin. Always remember that Mother Nature never leaves any job unfinished – always completed, never half done.
Look deeply into the blossom of a Camellia. See the exactness in the ever small strands that make up the structure of the bloom. Never will you see one that looks as though it wasn’t finished. The beauty is always there. The perfection of the creator cannot be equaled by the most skilled craftsman. The touch of his hand is ever present.
It’s so pathetic that today we must turn to violence for entertainment. We sit for hours on end and watch the endless killings and brutality that plaque our televisions.
The normal television addict will witness at least five or six murders during an evening of watching the boob tube. Our children are exposed to seeing the most brutal crimes committed under the disguise of good, clean entertainment.
Our fantasy living has taken us away from all the beauty and the simple things that we should appreciate and has replaced them with filth and make believe. We cannot be happy and content with the wonders of the creation. We must look to the myths and oftentimes the various cults that have abounded within our society for satisfaction and pleasure.
I do not want to sound like the voice of doom, but I believe that unless we turn to the good and simple things that have been placed here for us to appreciate and enjoy, we are doomed as a nation to wander on the winds of oblivion for now and forever.
As I climb down from my stump and end this article, the simple prayer of the old Indian wind-walker seems most appropriate.
O Great Spirit, give me strength that I may stroll across
the land and marvel at they creation.
Let me go where the wild flowers sway in the gentle
breeze.
Let me smell the fragrance of the wild honeysuckle, as I
rest in the shade of the mighty sweet-gum tree.
Make me know they presence, as I feel the bark of the
birch tree and smell the blooms of the dogwood.
And let me linger to the lullaby of the winds.
Give me sight so I might 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 through the shadows of the setting sun.
And when the shadows of this life gather on the horizon
and I stand in they presence, let me be judged for my love of they beauty and
they 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.)


