BONEBRAKE CHURCH Source: Obituary Boook of Grace Alward Newnum Friends, schoolmates and fellow teachers - it is certainly worth while and inspires a feeling of profound joy and gratification to be and meet with you here on this beautiful Sabbath morning. And as I look into your faces my memory is filled and refreshed with incidents of long ago when many of us at the sound of the school bell or the tattoo as it was hammered out on the wooden caseing of the door, dropped our childish plays and scurried into this house of learning and with cheeks flushed and moistened and panting breath, dropped into the long benches, beside our "best friend" where our bare feet dangled just off the floor and expectantly waited each class our turn to hear, "chart class," First Readers, Second Readers, Third Readers, etc throughout each quarter period of the day, until evening when we were dismissed and played our last days game of tag, and separated for our respective homes, anxious each time to hear the welcome voices of loved ones at home and particularly did mother's voice sound sweet to our childish ears and especially did our childish hearts leap with extra joy when mother's voice welcomed us. Perhaps during that day a hundred times, had she thought of us and of our safety and each night when we arrived home she experienced relief and joy of our safe return to her, and how worried she seemed if we were late from school. We did not realize at that time the efforts that were being put forth for us, perhaps not fully did we realize them until the same responsibilities and the same ambitions were assumed by us. And now after a lapse of nearly half a century those responsibilities have been met as best we could and those ambitions have been realized to a greater of lesser degree. And while our individual ambitions may not always have been realized to the fullest, I hope and believe that we have not been wholly disappointed and while this is true of our several ambitions one thing is true of the community ... respected children ... Be proud of the fact that I was born in the community known widely as Bonebrake Corner and I am quite certain if all of you will take a retrospective you will today be prouder of the fact that you were either born and reared under the influences and conditions maintained in this community than ever before in your lives. To have been reared in a community where so many have touched elbows with the result that such a large per cent have inflected credit on their early lives and training speaks well for any community and this is respectfully true of Bonebrake Corner. Friends, I have written this under the imagination that I was personally with you. Fates have decreed otherwise, however, much I would enjoy the pleasure. It is no less a pleasure and comfort to me to know that I have not been forgotten, it is worth a great deal to me to be called back once in a while to that dear old Bonebrake Corner and if not possible to be with you personally, to sit for awhile and contemplate the long ago, I see names on your program that kindle a burning desire to meet you all and among them I would like to mention particularly two, Mr. Worth Reed whom I remember as the boy who once declaimed in school on a memorable Friday afternoon when oratory flowed as the mountain stream and went gurgling down between the banks of time to the calm and restful sea of eternity, I would beg the opportunity to repeat it here. Boldly he stepped to the front and with much feeling and earnestness and in stentorius voice proclaimed, "I'll never use tobacco, No it is a filthy weed, I'll never put it in my mouth, Said little Robert Reed." How many of us have heeded his early admonition? I can't say I have. Have you Bob? The other name is our revered and highly esteemed Clay Reed who was perhaps considered the best teacher that ever wielded the birch in the old brick church. Along with him I might mention "Dick" Myer, Mr. Cotton, Miss Kate Jones and by the way perhaps the said Worth Reed might have some faint recollection of her scientific method of punishment. I think he and my brother George were early victims and on that occasion one of them attempted the hazardous task of biting her fingers. There is yet another teacher for whom I have especially a warm feeling. I do not know whether she is with you today or not but I refer to Miss Lizzie Moffett. I saw her name this spring mentioned when the death of her brother W.S. Moffett was recorded. She certainly helped over a rough place to me at one time, my most difficult study, artithmetic. Mr. Oremus Greenley has perhaps wielded more influence over the educational affairs of the community than any other one individual. I will now close this somewhat lengthy and tiresome letter with my my mind still crowded with events connected with this sacred place mad more so by the narrow homes that house so many of our loved ones. What a kind goodby and a hope to be with at your next Home Coming. Sincerely yours, Fremont Cronk To Charles Isley -- Dear Newphew : In answer to your notice of the home coming, which I just received, I wish to say that I don't know of any place I would like to go as well as the old brick church. That notice touched a tender chord which runs from my childhood days at the school, church and Sabbath school and the memory of those who attended with me. I know that most of them have passed over yonder to that "bourne from whence no traveler ever returns," and my age reminds me that I must soon meet them on the other shore. Your father and so many that I used to meet come to my mind. My prayer is that we may all be prepared to strike glad hands on the sunny banks, there to dwell evermore and to walk the golden streets. I would so well like to be with you. I don't think I would be able to make the trip. We ar eup and around. Hope you are all well. Hope to hear from you. Yours affectionally, E. Bonebrake To the Bonebrake Home Coming: Well, friends of the old brick church where I got my schooling and where us boys have played many a day, back in teh 50s when I was a boy, my first school was in the old brick church. When I was a boy past five years old and many other boys and girls sat under the old butternut tree. Mrs. Salina Reed was my first teacher, I have thought of her many times. Her maiden name was Salina Glascock. My last teacher was Mr. R.M. Myer. I have many times thought of my school days and wondered where my friends are or have they gone to the great Beyond? We have been scattered over the land some in one place, some in another, but is a day coming when we will be called together and I hope we will know each other as we did in our younger days. Many years have passed but I still call to mind the old church cemetery where we have so many friends laid. We have fathers, brothers, uncles, and cousins layed to rest and their spirits have gone to Heaven and we have been left to mourn, but all we can do is to live so we can meet them some day. We think our path is hard, sometimes but think of the one that suffered and died that we might live. We have no right to grumble. What a blessed thought that we have one to whom we can go in time of trouble and find such comfort and peace. We hope we may all look to Him for that peace which no one else can give is the wish of C.M. Drollinger; Elmeda Drollinger and Nellie P. Drollinger, Humbolt (don't think rest is there - just quits - sorry