BYRON HERBERT REECE SOCIETY

Dear Society:

I am a fifty four year old Atlanta lawyer. I was ill on Christmas Eve and was forced to spend it alone reading. I chose Celestine Sibley's book, Especially at Christmas , to keep me company. I was richly rewarded for my reading efforts by the Chapter entitled, "The Man Who Wrote Christmas Ballads." It was about Herbert Reece, of whom I had never heard.

Six years ago my children and I camped at Vogle State Park. The nice folks at the Sunshine Grocery directed us to Wolf Creek, where for the first time ever we fished for trout. The adventure was a great experience, and my then 10 year old son caught two trout. He kept them alive in a cooler, but when we got back to Atlanta, he regretted removing them from their mountain home. With great ritual, we released them to the Chattahoochee. Wolf Creek came to mean for us the fun of catching those fish and then giving them up. As I read Ms. Sibley's chapter, I wondered if the Wolf Creek she reported was the same creek of our family joy.

Your web page confirmed for me the connection. On Christmas Day I was better. I wrote out some of Mr. Reece's poetry on my refrigerator dry erase board. I read it to my children right off the refrigerator. I am grateful to you for the Society and to Mr. Reece for infusing my lonely Christmas Eve with some gentle poetry.

Mike Egan