Moonshine, Quakers, cookies
October 12, 2009

I read in the news that a North Carolina man was arrested after producing and stashing 929 gallons of moonshine. Think about this: they put the man in jail when in reality they should have awarded him the “entrepreneur of the century” award, for crying out pete’s sake. The guy’s a marvel. The least they could do is let him pay some nominal tax and go on his way. The money is what they’re after anyway.

Today was Quaker day for us. Our last day at this place, we ran around like chickens with our legs cut off trying to get to as many of our ancestral Quaker meeting houses as we possibly could. One is too far away, so will go there another time.

What is the reason for doing this? It’s beyond me, but just something I wanted to do. Some, such as Jacob Brown, had moved away and are buried elsewhere. We visited his grave in Indiana last year, gave him flowers and a flag in honor of his service in the American Revolution. Obviously, that is not an activity accepted by the Quakers, so he was disfellowshipped for his trouble, but evidently later accepted back into the fold because he is interred in a Friends burying ground.

Of the local Quaker ancestors, we believe we know or can guess pretty accurately where they are interred, but could find nary a stone to mark any of their resting places. I was satisfied, though, to haunt the places near their habitations, where they worshipped and probably were buried.

Truthfully, my vision of going to these places was akin to time travel - driving along a backwoods track through deep woods, coming around a bend in the road and seeing a small Quaker meeting house with its adjacent burying ground.






















So much for reality. In this world, the one I don’t always inhabit, two of the meeting houses are large handsome red brick buildings, complexes of structures actually, in urban settings. They are adjacent to cemeteries - large well-kept grounds with interesting histories, especially at Guilford where the American Revolution’s Battle of Guilford Courthouse transpired.

Encyclopedic partner explains that this particular battle sealed Cornwallis’ fate and turned the tide of the war in favor of the colonists. Some of the soldiers fallen in that battle are buried in the Friends’ burying ground probably aside my ancestors in the New Garden cemetery. We are told that our William Armfield, for one, is buried at New Garden.























We talked to folks at all three of the meeting houses we visited. At New Garden in Guilford, we obtained a brief history of the congregation along with a sketch of the old meeting house.

At Deep River, we also got a listing of the known burials, but no picture of the older church. And at Deep Creek, we purchased a small book with history and graves, in addition to kayaking and fishing tips for the area from the fellow who sold us the book.

There was an interesting and tragic interlude at Deep River during the Civil War. It occurred at the parsonage and involved Quakers attempting to avoid conscription into the Confederacy and ended in the shooting and killing of a Rebel officer and killing and wounding of several other people.

Back at Pleasant Garden, we learned that Guilford College across the road is a Quaker establishment with a library that boasts a Friends history section. That was an exciting idea, so we drove over there in the rain (actually, the entire day has been the wettest, dreariest yet - unceasing rain and cold - in the 50s - how thoroughly unpleasant), circled and circled looking for a parking place to no avail and finally gave it up, parking farther away than we wanted lest we melt in the wet.

When at long last we located the library, we dripped on in there, only to discover that the Quaker room is closed on Mondays. Ah well, they promise that most of their holdings are online, but I yearned to venture through that glass door to peruse those enticing volumes.

Interestingly, our circlings on the lovely campus showed us two facilities named for our ancestors who were there - Armfield and Moon - well, possibly named for their descendants, one doesn’t know this for sure. This is a charming place, one in which I’d dearly love to have sufficient time to research and take in the surroundings.

At all the places, I couldn’t resist wandering through the burying grounds despite the complete sogginess of the atmosphere. I snapped a few photos from the shelter of an umbrella and tried to imagine what it was like for those folks during the colonial days and the strife of the Revolutionary War, which the Friends mostly attempted to avoid. I’m sure it is beyond our ken what our progenitors endured and survived throughout the ages.

Since discovering last summer that we have Quaker ancestors, we have learned quite a bit about them and their history. I hope to delve more deeply into the culture they created.

Our very first stop of the day was the sweetest - a tour of Mrs. Travis Hanes’ Moravian cookie factory. I knew before going there that all Mrs. Hanes' cookies are hand made; however, seeing those ladies rolling the dough out by hand and cutting each and every one of the thousands and thousands of cookies is simply mind boggling. The bakers then place each cutout on the baking sheets. Even the packing into tubes, tins and packages is done by nice local ladies who work at it eight hours a day.

Ms. Hanes actually began this endeavor in her kitchen years ago, and now resides semi-retired in a wonderful house next to the factory. The process proceeds with the active participation of her son and daughter. When a tour is requested, one of the cookie cutting ladies obliges, including at each stop a sampling of each flavor produced - ginger, sugar, lemon, black walnut, chocolate and butterscotch.

Prior to this tour, I did a bit research about the Moravians and came away fairly overwhelmed and less than enlightened. Suffice it to say, the religion goes back for many centuries.

We arrived home to discover that Rowdy was without food, a circumstance so frightful as to cause great distress. He did recover quickly and seems to have forgiven me. We will see - if he bites my nose tonight while I’m sleeping, we will know that I’d best not let that happen again.

Tomorrow we trade wifi for hot springs; we shall stay at the hot springs rv park for two nights, but will be without wifi for the duration. Personally, I’m guessing it will be well worth it.