The sun. [volume] (Newberry, S.C.) 1937-1972, December 22, 1955, Image 19
THURSDAY, DECEMER 22, 1955
THE NEWBERRY SUN
SECTION C—PAGE THREE
MERRY
CHRISTMAS
Loads of jolly wishes for the best
Christinas ever, to our friends
and customers from our
entire staff.
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COLLEGE STREET PURE OIL STA.
NEWBERRY, S. C.
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HAPPY
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To All Friends
And Customers .,.
NEWBERRY FABRIC SHOP 1
1217 Nance Street |
Julia Blalock Lillie Mae Goggans
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By F. L. Rowley
M R. OWENS is extremely popu
lar in Hillcrest. He owns a big
barn where the stock shows play
each summer. He even serves cof
fee and sandwiches to his “guests”
when they drop in to watch one of
the shows. The truth is that Mr.
Owens is a lonely old man who
likes to surround himself with hap
py people.
Several years ago today, when
Christmas cheer abounded and
glowing parlor windows warmed
the hearts of passersby, Mr. Owens
was lonelier than usual. He had
riot even set up a tree that year;
what good was a tree without
someone to admire it?
Christmas Eve, and Mr. Owens
strolled down Main Street alone,
peering into the few shop win
dows that were still lighted. In
front of the ten-cent store he saw
young Jim Harder. Jim was watch
ing the lights go out with an ex
pression of dismay on his freckled
face.
“It can’t be that bad, my boy,'*
the old man said kindly.
Jim tried to smile when he saw
Mr. Owens. “It’s bad enough. I’U
sure catch it from mom when I get
home. She sent me out to buy some
Christmas-tree ornaments.”
“Tree ornaments? At this hour?*'
“Yes sir. Last summer we had a
Laurens Farm Lad
Writes About Israel
By Curtis E.( Wallace, Laurens
County
(Editor’s Note: Curtis has been
in Israel since June as a delegate
in the International Farm Youth
Exchange. He is scheduled to re
turn to South Carolina December
16th.
Sponsoring the IFYE program
in South Carolina is the Master
4-H club, which carries on the
program in cooperation with the
Clemson Extension Service. The
IFYE program was designed to
promote world peace and better
understanding among notions.)
Have you ever been to a wed
ding and found the bride dressed
in blue shorts, pink blouse, and
barefooted half an hour before the
ceremony? Well, this is what I
saw when I returned to the mos-
hav, Beit Hanan, for the wedding
of Tory Miss, Fat Wetherell’s
IFYE sister.
Pat, Mildred and I (we three
IFYE delegates from the United
States) arrived about four o’clock
and found the house buzzing with
relatives. The wedding was at 4:30
and there ^as Tory, the bride to
be, in shorts and barefooted. She
sat down and talked with us until
the groom, Chaim, came in and
casually mentioned that she
should get ready.
While waiting around we went
to the kitchen. There—much t o
our surprise — were about 30 or
40 cakes. We learned that the
cakes had been kept by the neigh
bors in their refrigerators to keep
the icing from melting. The wed
ding cake was.a white three-tier
ed affair. We also saw about 20
loaves of bread that were to be
used for sandwiches.
While awaiting the rabbi’s ar
rival, the relatives gathered on
the lawn around the canopy where
the ceremony was to take place.
Son the rabbP came. Then the
bride, groom, and . parents took
their places under the canopy.
Before we knew it the ceremony
was over. By this time friends
from the Moshav had come to
extend congratulations and best
wishes to the couple. All the
folks of the moshav had been in
vited to the reception. There was
much feasting and visiting o f
friends tor nearly three hours.
We were thrilled when we were
invited to attend the wedding
supper tor the family. On receiv
ing this honor, we knew we were
accepted as family members.
It as not until after the fourth
course of the meal that I realized
there were 40 people packed into
the small room. After the wed
ding sapper began the singing
and gaiety that continued into the
early hours of the morning.
Frinds told us this was a typ
ical modest wedding.
Since I’ve been here,I have
covered most of the land of Is
rael except the far north and the [
lower negav. I have seen the
beautiful sea of Galilee, Tiberias,
Safad, Haifa, Tel Aviv, Jerusa
lem, and Beer^Shava.
Isaac Fienstien, a 1954 IFYE,
carried us to Jerusalem. On the
way we passed the valley where
David and Goliath fought, and
went through the villege where
John The Baptist was born. At
Mount Hetrzell, a great Idealist
of Israel, is buried, we could get
a good ptciure of Jerusalem*
In the city proper, we went up
to the tower so we could look
over the whole city. . From the
tower we saw the old city wall
and the wailing wall, the Mount
of Olives, the Church of the Holy
Sepulcher, and the Church of the
Dome of the Rock. Below the
garden of Golg&ha.
After this panoramic view, we
went to a kibbutz right on the
border and got a faint glimpse of
Bethlehem, which was on a small
hill.
Then we climbed ML Zion for
a picnic lunch. After lunch we
visited King David’s tomb and
the room of the last supper. The
upper room had no tables o r
chairs.
Riding through the new part of
Jerusalem, we found it is like
other new modern cities.
The day we went to Beer-Shava
we found tho Arabs having their
market day. They were selling
camels, sheep, goats, beads, tob
acco, and other things. The wo
men would drive the sheep . "
goats and do most of tho wov e.
They had their faces veiled
covered with a string of coins. )
were hot allowed to take ph< *
of them. The place was dirty & V
it was hard for me to realize ho.v
these Arab Bedouins live.
We did not get to ride on a c ^ -
el here, but we did ride one w i
we went to Beer-Shava—a a vy
nice but bumpy ride. It was '.s a
riding the waves of the sea
Beer-Shava is a new mot ern
city. There’s a nice hotel, school,
theatre, and a huge grain and
Hour mill.
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We're pulling in on the
Holiday Main Line with a load
o! old fashioned greetings to
say 'Thanks, Friends!" for your past
patronage, and to hope you'll have
A GAY AND HAPPY CHRISTMAS 1
College Street Texaco Station
NEWBERRY, C.
Mr. Owens pulled out a drawer
to reveal several dozen brightly
colored balls.
fire in the woodshed,” explained
Jim, “nothing serious, but our
Christmas stuff was destroyed. We
forgot all about it until we set the
tree up this morning.”
“And you waited until now to
buy ornaments?”
“That’s just it,” groaned Jim
“I left home over an hour ago. It’s
just that—well, I’ve been looking
in store windows—and—”
Problem Solved
“I understand,” said Mr. Owens
with a twinkle in his eye. “Used
to do the same thing when I was a
lad. Never could figure out why
clocks were invented. Say, I’ve got
an idea! I have some old orna
ments—”
“You have?” cried Jim eagerly.
“On second thought,” Mr. Owens
went on, “I don’t think they’d do.
Too old, most of them, with
cracked sides and hairpins stuck
in their tops. Had one box of good
ones, but I stepped on it.”
Jim didn’t smile. He look miser
able.
“Wait!” cried Mr. Owens, laying
a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’ve
go it! You’ll have your Christmas-
tree ornaments yet.”
With Jim Harder striding hope
fully beside him, Mr. Owens set
off at a brisk trot that belied his
years. A happy smile played upon
the wrinkled face. He was doing
someone a favor at Christmas; he
was part of the scene. He joined
Jim in a chorus of ‘White Christ
mas.’
Hiding Place
When they reached his place he
surprised Jim by taking the path
that led to the barn. The boy fol
lowed. Once inside, he groped
around until he located an old lan
tern.
After squeezing between dusty
props they reached a huge chest.
Mr. Owens pulled out a drawer to
reveal several dozen brightly col
ored balls.
“Wow!” They're perfect!” cried
Jim. “What are they?”
Mr. Ownes laughed. “Let’s sec
now; those plastic ones are plums,
and those pressed-paper ones are
oranges. This other drawer is full
of stars; it’s all part of the scen
ery. I do hope you’ll bring them
back after the holidays.”
1 “I sure will!’* promised Jim with
a big grin.
It was outside church the next
morning that Jim approached him
reathlessly: “We got turkey, and
you’re going to get a drumstick,
Mr. Owens!”
“Me? Now Jim, you needn’t—”
Mrs. Harder came up. “I asked
Jim to invite you to dinner,” she
explained. “Besides, you must see
our beautiful orange covered
Christmas tree. Or would you rath
er spend Christmas Day in that
big, lonely house of yours?”
Mr. Owens couldn’t think of a
single reason for not going. “I—I
reckon I would like to see the
tree,” he admitted.
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It was Christmas Morn and the Christ Child was nestled in His lowly
manger. This Holy Babe was the hope of men in those days over nineteen
hundred years ago... the leader who would bring faith. Today, let us again
follow in the footsteps of those shepherds of yesteryear. Let us worship in
adoration of our King. It’s Christmas Day... it’s the Birthday of our King.
*** "***8 with our hearts, wRh our energies, for peace on earth. Menr
tea«
Whitaker Funeral Home
MR. & MRS. ROY D. WHITAKER
WILBUR P. BOOZER
DICK COUNTS
DOGGETT & CLAIRE WHITAKER
BOYCE E. STERLING PAUL BRANTON
CLAY BALLENTINE