Thomas L. Burgner

Thomas L. Burgner

A number of you, among those whom I have been able to contact, have been to the web page, registered and looked around. Now, what do we do? Well, let’s get started, and draw the others in.

Betty Sue Highsmith (Simms)

Hey Tom and anybody else who reads this,

You are trying so hard to get people to talk to each other and I admire all the effort.  The old music is great but I really listen to smooth jazz and rarely think of the old stuff.  How about we try something new? 

WHAT ARE YOU FOLKS DOING THESE DAYS?   

I am working on genealogy for my family.  I have been doing this for several years off and on and really enjoy it.  I have met cousins from all around the country that I e-mail and send and receive pictures and I am writing about all the people that I know and the tales they told about the people they knew when they were alive.  This makes the people real.  I am not talking about great things anyone did.  I am talking everyday lives, screw ups, happy moments, etc.  It amazes me that I can receive an e-mail from a person I never knew with a picture of my gggrandmother.  Anybody else doing this, want any help, want to get started, whatever?

My husband and I are planning an Alaska cruise for next summer.  Who's done that?  Any suggestions?  Any comments? 

Somebody say something!    Betty Highsmith Simms       

John E. Malone

Tom, I think several of us worked from time to time at Charley Cartwright's Gulf Station.  Was a favorite meeting place for many years.  Bet you remeber his 1957 Ford Ranchero.   Charley thought that was the fastest thing around!

Glad to hear of the restoration of the old Gresham Hotel, doesn't sound like the place I remember!  Pancakes should get everyone's attention!

Don't get back to Jonesborough too often these days.  When I do, I'll be sure to check out some of the changes that have taken place.  I grew up in Jonesborough and left after ETSU and ROTC in 1966.  Except for a short couple of years, have only visited family there about once a year.  I mainly remember the old times in Jonesboro.   Also worked for Pat Foster at the old Sinclair downtown and the new Esso station.  Probably seems a lot better now than it did then!  Washed a lot of cars and did a bunch of oil changes for the 25 cents an hour, but it was good movie and spending money.  Got me into the Jackson Theatre to see the Saturday night cowboy movies.  Still like the White Hat guys!

Thank you for setting up and keeping the website going.  Maybe more of us will try to use it a little more often.  I really enjoyed the 50th JHS reunion and would love to see the committee crank up another one.  Maybe we can talk it up.  Have a blessed day.

Thomas L. Burgner

I ran across this and thought I would share it with you:

 THE MILL-BROOK SPRING

[Legend has it that "he who drinks out of the Mill-Brook Spring will return." The old Mill-Brook Spring in Jonesboro suggested this poem written by Rev. J.B. Herndon, one-time pastor of the Jonesboro Presbyterian Church.]

Have you ever seen the Mill-Brook Spring

That flows in the ancient town?

Have you ever drunk from its limpid depths

The magical waters down?

Hard by the roadway flows the Spring,

And many a traveler stops to drink,

And catches a glimpse of a Heaven below,

As he pauses o'er the brink.

The mill whirls on in endless song

As the days and weeks go by,

And the musical blows of the anvils ring

From the sooty smithy nigh.

And the Brook flows down thro' the quiet town,

And makes the meadows green,

All along its sides the snowdrops hide

With buttercups between.

Have you ever seen the Mill-Brook Spring

That flows in the ancient town?

Have you ever drunk from its limpid depths

The magical waters down?

There are wonderful tales the townsmen tell

With never a doubt of the truth,

For they verily believe these waters have

A power o'er age and youth.

And a legend they add to all their tales,

An ever confident refrain.

"Whoever drinks from the Mill-Brook Spring

Is sure to come back again."

A child drank here and wandered afar,

Till all had forgotten his name,

But an old gray man in the after years

Back to the village came,

And begged a place to lay him and die,

When he drank of the Spring once more,

And they laid him to rest on the warm earth's breast,

Where he sleeps till time is o'er.

And lovers many have wandered here

To the parting of the ways,

And, quaffing the magical waters, dreamed

They would meet in other days.

A youth left home for the great wide world

That lay o'er the valley rim.

And his mother led him to the Mill-Brook Spring,

And looked to the future dim.

A soldier brave in his Southern gray

Marched away with never a fear,

For the Mill-Brook waters assured the wife

He was sure to come back to her.

And men, they say, have been known to go

Across the wave tossed main,

And brave the storm, and famine, and death,

And yet come back again.

And young and old who have tasted here

The sweetest waters God has made,

Have found its magical powers true

For man or woman, boy or maid.

Have you ever seen the Mill-Brook Spring

That flows in the ancient town?

Have you ever drunk from its limpid depths

The magical waters down?

I went to the Mill-Brook Spring one day,

And drank of its waters cold.

A warm wind blew from the southern climes,

And the meadows were all in gold.

A subtle something filled my soul

That made me dream of bliss,

It may have been the April sun,

Or a fairy's enchanting kiss.

And she who walked by my side that day

Was full of laughter and song.

And the glow of beauty that flushed her face

Was full and fair and strong.

"You'll come back now, I know," she said,

"For you've drunk of the Mill-Brook Spring."

And it seemed so glad a thing to her

That future days might bring.

And about my heart a secret string

Today draws me back to the place.

It may be the charm of the Mill-Brook Spring,

But it may be the charm of the face.