Mr. and Mrs. J. I. Reece

The voice of the valley is stilled.

The big house is forelorn.

The quite step of the two old people as they puttered about the ancient, warm old place is gone.

No more will they sit nodding by the fire on a winter's day; or stroll in the warming rays of a spring sunshine.

Never again will she sit and recall the days when "Papa talked about the big war."

Nor can he reminisce of those years and places when he tackled the world with the vigor and dreams of youth, and rose to plateaus of knowledge, of accomplishment.

No more will they sit there, on the front porch, feel the gentle touch of a summer breeze, share a laugh, listen to birds sing, watch the land ooze alive after a winter's sleep.

Gone too, are the simple pleasures of gazing in wonderment on the face of old Table Rock Mountain, stoic guardian of the valley for centuries, and of watching in awe as a magnificent sun drops behind the hills, the silent darkness of pure country steals across the cove.

Those were the lives and legacies of Mr. and Mrs. J. I. Reece there in Oolenoy Valley. They died within weeks of each other in some of the miserable cold of recent months.

Death has a way of taking the old ones that way; when drab days and cold nights leave little promise of the warm sunshine they knew in youth, resistence is low. Life ebbs. The Reeces went almost together. He died. And she followed.

Their passing leaves forever a void in our world.

Mrs. Reece, that kindly white-haired little lady had known the old home since her pioneer father, Matthew Hendricks, returned from the bloody War Between the States and engineered the building of "The Wistaria" as the first frame home in the valley.

She had the proud heritage of people of the land, those persevering, resourceful pioneers who became people of substance through sheer work with their hands and their land.

That lady never forgot her heritage as long as she lived. And she measured up to it all the way. Without living in the past, she drew from it that which was good and strong and; measured it to living for the present while preparing for, the future.

This was the way she taught there in the Oolenoy Valley School. And this was the way she, provided leadership in recent, years, in organizing a community club, in providing church support, in love of her neighbors and her valley. This was her motivation in committing to paper a history of the development of the area, so that future generations might know the Genesis of their area, their people.

When those half her age were content to slow a pace or sit awhile, she was doing. She kept her hands busy and her heart reaching out.

Now she has gone. The voice of the valley is stilled. We will miss her, will miss them.