Crewe VA Funeral Homes
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Heart-felt tributes to honor a dear friend or loved one who has passed away
7781 East Patrick Henry Highway
Crewe, VA 23930
(434) 645-9364
200 West Carolina Avenue
Crewe, VA 23930
(434) 645-7310
Highway 460
Crewe, VA
(434) 392-7000
Crewe VA Obituaries and Death Notices
Monday, July 25, 2016Baltimore," said Anthony Barbieri Jr., a former foreign correspondent and managing editor of The Sun. "So whenever I screwed up, I would always send a back-channel cable to Jim asking how bad the damage was, and he would try to make me feel better."From 1975 to 1991, Mr. Keat was an assistant managing editor overseeing foreign, national and metropolitan news and the newspaper's library. All the while, he pressed for reporters to insist that public officials and agencies remain accessible and open."Jim did it all. He was a superb reporter and editor," said Barry L. Rascovar, former editorial-page director of The Sun. "He was a strong advocate of journalistic ethics and openness and journalists' ability to get official documents. He was adamant about the people's right to know what government was doing and have their voices heard."For the last four years of his career before retiring in 1995, he was The Sun's editorial page coordinator. In addition to handling letters to the editor, he'd write occasional editorials and columns.After retiring, Mr. Keat grew a beard and became a South Baltimore activist, leading campaigns against developers who wanted to obscure harbor views with buildings along Key Highway."He became the 'Watchdog of South Baltimore' in his retirement, and that was good for the city," Mr. Sterne said.Mr. Keat never lost his bustling, hurried New York demeanor — nor his accent despite having lived in Baltimore for 60 years."He came from New York and Rhode Island and was more a Baltimorean than a born Baltimorean," said Mr. Sterne.In addition to enjoying informed and lively conversation, Mr. Keat appreciated good food, wine and beer that had to be served at room temperature."I have traveled the world admonishing bartenders that I do not want my beer served in an ice-cold glass," Mr. Keat said recently with a laugh.He...
Sunday, June 19, 2016I was interested in buying the squirrel diorama at first; then I became interested in the calf."The couple returned home, but a day or two later, Hursley says he knew "I had screwed up ... what was important was to make a photograph of it."After talking to DeClerk on the phone, he headed back to Pocahontas with his camera ... and his checkbook."Bill liked the idea of the calf being photographed. When I got there, he took me to the courthouse, the museum, the hardware store and a restaurant. We went to the church he grew up in and then back to the storefront to shoot the photograph. After getting that done, I made an offer for the two-headed calf and he said yes."Hursley says he thinks DeClerk visited his website and realized he wasn't going to "flip" the calf just to make money."There were other collectors circling around," Hursley said. "I told Bill I thought that calf just had to stay in Arkansas."Hursley says his wife was skeptical.A warm chuckle fills his voice. "She was on the fence about it. But she's starting to warm up to it."Jeanie Hursley posted a message on Facebook: "The Grand Award!!! When Tim purchased this taxidermy calfx2, I was more than a little creeped out, but now it's looking golden."Garvey understands Jeanie Hursley's response."It's surreal, like something haunting and not OK is going on," she says of Pocahontas, AR. "The whole composition, color, light, feeling of nostalgia ... the way even little objects on shelves were captured by the artist reminded me of details in a northern Renaissance painting. And it kept drawing me back in. It was, in the end, what I found the most compelling and that was a real surprise to me."The calf is on a table in Hursley's studio, right at home with his collection of Americana objects such as vintage signs, architectural models, outsider art and tramp art frames. The walls also display his work, including a breathtaking view of the Museum of Modern Art in New York.So, how does a man who earns his living shooting photographs for world-class architects such as Moshe Safdie, I.M. Pei, Fay Jones and Kyu Sung Woo wind up taking a photograph of a two-headed calf?"I drive around a lot, especially in the South," he says. "I make time to take photos en route."Hursley has shot plenty of images on his way to Rural Studio in Newbern, Ala., where he has done pro bono work for the project, part of Auburn University's architecture department, for more than two decades.As he collected images, several people encouraged him to do a thematic series, he says.One of his first, a series of photographs of Nevada brothels, became a book, one of four he has published.In his images taken in small Southern towns, there are photos of run-down funeral homes. Hursley's second piece in the "Delta Exhibition," Train Ride/Vicksburg MS, is one of them."When I drive into a small town, I hit the smartphone ... 'funeral homes near me.'"A native of Michigan, Hursley, 60, apprenticed as a teenager with Balthazar Korab, a pioneering architecture photographer."I wasn't interested in schools; that apprenticeship was my school. He was at the top of his profession."Hursley's career was taking off when he moved to Little Rock in 1980. He and his wife, who is from England (Lonoke County), are the parents...
Monday, June 06, 2016Taylor Leland.They were poking along the creek bank – looking for the usual crabs or washed-up bottles – when they spied it.Picture a man’s jewelry box. Nice wood. Handsomely crafted. The lid screwed shut.“We thought it was a treasure chest,” Molly said.They ran it up to grandpa, visions of pirate’s loot – maybe even jewels – dancing in their 11-year-old heads.Brown, a retired veterinarian everyone calls “Doc,” looked the box over.No identifying marks on its exterior. Definitely not old. Probably hadn’t been in the water more than a week or two.Reaching for a screwdriver, he joked with the girls: “If there’s gold in here, I get a third, right?”Wide-eyed nods.Inside: a watery mess of what looked like coarse, gray sand. Brown dumped it on the ground. A small silver tag surfaced, engraved with a number: 7205.That’s when Brown realized the box was a cremation urn, and its contents “were human ashes,” he said.Sorry girls. No treasure. Just a jarring encounter with mortality. And an awkward scramble to scoop the cremains out of the grass and mud, back into the urn.“I did the best I could,” Brown said.Molly considered it a little gross, but kind of “cool. We’ve never found anything like that before.”Whose remains are they? Where did the urn come from? Was it set adrift intentionally or accidentally?People do lose hold of such things. Urns turn up in repossessed cars and foreclosed homes. An Alabama power line crew discovered one last month lying next to a road; news reports helped alert a grateful next-of-kin who said he’d lost track of it during a nasty divorce.The roadside ashes were the cremains of his father, a Vietnam vet.On the Eastern Shore, the tide steals thing...
Crewe News
Monday, July 25, 2016Baltimore," said Anthony Barbieri Jr., a former foreign correspondent and managing editor of The Sun. "So whenever I screwed up, I would always send a back-channel cable to Jim asking how bad the damage was, and he would try to make me feel better."From 1975 to 1991, Mr. Keat was an assistant managing editor overseeing foreign, national and metropolitan news and the newspaper's library. All the while, he pressed for reporters to insist that public officials and agencies remain accessible and open."Jim did it all. He was a superb reporter and editor," said Barry L. Rascovar, former editorial-page director of The Sun. "He was a strong advocate of journalistic ethics and openness and journalists' ability to get official documents. He was adamant about the people's right to know what government was doing and have their voices heard."For the last four years of his career before retiring in 1995, he was The Sun's editorial page coordinator. In addition to handling letters to the editor, he'd write occasional editorials and columns.After retiring, Mr. Keat grew a beard and became a South Baltimore activist, leading campaigns against developers who wanted to obscure harbor views with buildings along Key Highway."He became the 'Watchdog of South Baltimore' in his retirement, and that was good for the city," Mr. Sterne said.Mr. Keat never lost his bustling, hurried New York demeanor — nor his accent despite having lived in Baltimore for 60 years."He came from New York and Rhode Island and was more a Baltimorean than a born Baltimorean," said Mr. Sterne.In addition to enjoying informed and lively conversation, Mr. Keat appreciated good food, wine and beer that had to be served at room temperature."I have traveled the world admonishing bartenders that I do not want my beer served in an ice-cold glass," Mr. Keat said recently with a laugh.He...
Sunday, June 19, 2016I was interested in buying the squirrel diorama at first; then I became interested in the calf."The couple returned home, but a day or two later, Hursley says he knew "I had screwed up ... what was important was to make a photograph of it."After talking to DeClerk on the phone, he headed back to Pocahontas with his camera ... and his checkbook."Bill liked the idea of the calf being photographed. When I got there, he took me to the courthouse, the museum, the hardware store and a restaurant. We went to the church he grew up in and then back to the storefront to shoot the photograph. After getting that done, I made an offer for the two-headed calf and he said yes."Hursley says he thinks DeClerk visited his website and realized he wasn't going to "flip" the calf just to make money."There were other collectors circling around," Hursley said. "I told Bill I thought that calf just had to stay in Arkansas."Hursley says his wife was skeptical.A warm chuckle fills his voice. "She was on the fence about it. But she's starting to warm up to it."Jeanie Hursley posted a message on Facebook: "The Grand Award!!! When Tim purchased this taxidermy calfx2, I was more than a little creeped out, but now it's looking golden."Garvey understands Jeanie Hursley's response."It's surreal, like something haunting and not OK is going on," she says of Pocahontas, AR. "The whole composition, color, light, feeling of nostalgia ... the way even little objects on shelves were captured by the artist reminded me of details in a northern Renaissance painting. And it kept drawing me back in. It was, in the end, what I found the most compelling and that was a real surprise to me."The calf is on a table in Hursley's studio, right at home with his collection of Americana objects such as vintage signs, architectural models, outsider art and tramp art frames. The walls also display his work, including a breathtaking view of the Museum of Modern Art in New York.So, how does a man who earns his living shooting photographs for world-class architects such as Moshe Safdie, I.M. Pei, Fay Jones and Kyu Sung Woo wind up taking a photograph of a two-headed calf?"I drive around a lot, especially in the South," he says. "I make time to take photos en route."Hursley has shot plenty of images on his way to Rural Studio in Newbern, Ala., where he has done pro bono work for the project, part of Auburn University's architecture department, for more than two decades.As he collected images, several people encouraged him to do a thematic series, he says.One of his first, a series of photographs of Nevada brothels, became a book, one of four he has published.In his images taken in small Southern towns, there are photos of run-down funeral homes. Hursley's second piece in the "Delta Exhibition," Train Ride/Vicksburg MS, is one of them."When I drive into a small town, I hit the smartphone ... 'funeral homes near me.'"A native of Michigan, Hursley, 60, apprenticed as a teenager with Balthazar Korab, a pioneering architecture photographer."I wasn't interested in schools; that apprenticeship was my school. He was at the top of his profession."Hursley's career was taking off when he moved to Little Rock in 1980. He and his wife, who is from England (Lonoke County), are the parents...
Monday, June 06, 2016Taylor Leland.They were poking along the creek bank – looking for the usual crabs or washed-up bottles – when they spied it.Picture a man’s jewelry box. Nice wood. Handsomely crafted. The lid screwed shut.“We thought it was a treasure chest,” Molly said.They ran it up to grandpa, visions of pirate’s loot – maybe even jewels – dancing in their 11-year-old heads.Brown, a retired veterinarian everyone calls “Doc,” looked the box over.No identifying marks on its exterior. Definitely not old. Probably hadn’t been in the water more than a week or two.Reaching for a screwdriver, he joked with the girls: “If there’s gold in here, I get a third, right?”Wide-eyed nods.Inside: a watery mess of what looked like coarse, gray sand. Brown dumped it on the ground. A small silver tag surfaced, engraved with a number: 7205.That’s when Brown realized the box was a cremation urn, and its contents “were human ashes,” he said.Sorry girls. No treasure. Just a jarring encounter with mortality. And an awkward scramble to scoop the cremains out of the grass and mud, back into the urn.“I did the best I could,” Brown said.Molly considered it a little gross, but kind of “cool. We’ve never found anything like that before.”Whose remains are they? Where did the urn come from? Was it set adrift intentionally or accidentally?People do lose hold of such things. Urns turn up in repossessed cars and foreclosed homes. An Alabama power line crew discovered one last month lying next to a road; news reports helped alert a grateful next-of-kin who said he’d lost track of it during a nasty divorce.The roadside ashes were the cremains of his father, a Vietnam vet.On the Eastern Shore, the tide steals thing...
