Larry Freshman, Thurmont

Recently, as the mountain’s autumn colors were beginning to fade, my wife and I decided to go for a drive around Thurmont town. As we drove toward town, we couldn’t help but notice that large area near Mickey D’s being prepared for the new Weis supermarket. On further, we saw a new house being built across from the town park. We turned right onto Water Street and proceeded down Summit Avenue where another new home had recently been constructed. I couldn’t help but think how much this old town has changed since this writer was a young pup.

Change, embraced by some and encouraged by others. But for this old guy (who is kinda lost in the 60s anyway) change doesn’t exactly make me feel all warm and fuzzy. I long for the old days when things were more laid back and a whole lot less stressful. But, of course, in my heart, I know that change is inevitable and none of us can take even one step into the past.

As we are now driving on Apple’s Church Road, we come to the Albert and Beulah Zentz farm. I don’t see fields ready for the plow or pigs in the pen or chickens running freely roaming about. Albert died a few years ago and since then the farm has changed from a hubbub of activity to a rather serene place. The fields seem to lie in quiet repose, as does their master.

Albert and my mother grew up together and their friendship was a lasting one. As a kid I could remember my parents and I stopping by the farm to buy eggs, corn or whatever vegetables might be available.

In later years, if I found a picture or a postcard of yesteryear in Thurmont, I would invariably go to Albert for information about the person, business or home pictured. Albert always seemed to come through, his recollections were crisp and clear. I so enjoyed listening to his many stories and memories about Thurmont of long ago.

I always thought of Albert as such as hard working, strong, powerful man, but also a person with a kind and gentle demeanor. Albert knew my mother’s old place, located across the road from his farm, was going to be demolished. So, before that could happen, Albert asked me if I would like to see the inside of the old Kelly home. He knew that I had never been inside my grandparents’ home. He took me through the house and pointed out the use of each room. He also showed me where all nine of the Kelly kids slept. Albert also fondly recalled some of my grandmother’s fine fried chicken and apple pies. For this gracious act, I will always be thankful.

Petey Brice

As we now come across the railroad tracks at Carroll Street, I glance over at Dave Lawyer’s Service Center. Over the years I’ve sure had a lot of work done there on my old jalopies. I was always used to talking to Petey Brice and the other guys whenever I took my car there for some necessary fixin’. Petey passed away in April of this year. It seemed like you’d always see Petey around town. Years ago, he worked at Sauble’s Liquor Store and more recently he did odd jobs at Dave’s garage. When I would see Petey motoring through town in that old blue pickup, he would always give me that single index finger wave as he passed by. I always figured if he was in a hurry, he must be headed to Frank Bentz’s pond or one of his other favorite fishing holes.

The Rose Bushes

As we come to the end of Carroll Street, I see that someone must have

purchased Jim and Mary Eyler’s home. Both had passed away recently.

As a kid, I remembered Jim delivering mail to our home on Catoctin Furnace Road. In later years, if I needed a piece of furniture refinished, Jim was the man for the job. He did a terrific job on any furniture taken to him.

But the thing that makes me think of Jim and Mary were those gorgeous roses. They treated those plants with such love and care that naturally the plants responded with a beauty that made the entire town look better.

However, those roses did get me and some other young cats in a heap of trouble back in 1962. In the 60s there was this tradition at Thurmont High School. Juniors would make and carry a rose chain (a chain made of greenery and roses) for the seniors to pass through at a daytime graduation ceremony at the school.

One evening as were creating the rose chain, someone figured we needed more roses. So, a few of us gallant lads decided to acquire some at a nearby location. You guessed it! Jim and Mary’s garden.

News travels fast in a small town. As we returned to school with our bounty, our teacher greeted us with a very evil stare. Our crime had been discovered and we were caught, snagged, up that so-called creek without a paddle.

Our punishment … go to Jim and Mary and apologize for our misconduct. To say I was nervous, fearful, down-right scared would have been a vast understatement. After our faint knock, Jim opened the door. We all apologized profusely, swearing we would never stoop to such a dastardly deed again. Jim seemed unmoved. I now felt my palms getting wet and my throat dry. I actually thought I heard a few knees knocking from my buddies, too.

And then, just as Jim was about to close the door, he grinned and said, "Those roses did go for a good cause, right fellows?" In unison, we totally

agreed. We had been taught a valuable lesson, but we were also forgiven.

A Final Thought

Now as my wife and I drive toward home, I realize that change is the only constant. However, the changes that sadden me aren’t increased population, building or traffic. It’s the loss of people I was so accustomed to having around. People, who by their friendliness, kindness and goodness, touched my life. They made me proud to call Thurmont my hometown and made this town a better place to live.

I suppose the passing of relatives, old friends and neighbors is a legacy of getting older. We know nothing

about our tomorrows, but we have the sweetest memories of our yesterdays.

So, as for me, I’ll always have a special place in my heart for freshly plowed fields, old blue pickup trucks and roses.