A Bit of History Slips Quietly Down the Yadkin River
I lost a good friend died last week. He was an old man who grew up in the town I live in. He played in the fields and hunted in the woods. He even got his hair cut under a tree that I own before he joined the army and left town, returning over fifty years later to live out his days with his new wife and old memories. He taught me the history of this sleepy little hamlet along the Yadkin river, and helped my son buy his first shotgun.
He died last week, and his ashes will be buried under a tree that he once played under as a boy. He was a good, honest man, and is deeply missed.
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