The remembrances of Faye Clark

By Beverly Clinkingbeard

In 1981, Betsy Chapin was teaching the fifth and sixth graders at Westboro Elementary School in Westboro, Missouri. The pupils were given the assignment of asking a senior citizen, their grandparents or a friend, to write an essay of what their school days were like. Those who were asked were in school at a time when essay/story writing and penmanship were a part of their curriculum. As a result, their remembrances were well articulated and the handwriting quite legible or type written. In the coming weeks, their experiences will be shared. Thank you, Betsy, and thank you to the contributors, now deceased, for sharing their yesterday experiences.

Faye Clark

Mrs. Clarence (Faye) Clark is remembered as a good neighbor, house wife, mother of eight children, gardener and thrifty. When a grandchild saw her plucking dandelion greens for a salad he said, “Mom, we need to get Grandma some groceries. She’s cutting weeds to eat.” Her garden grew both vegetables and flowers. She fed her family from her garden and used the winter months to plan the next garden, mapping what would be planted where on paper. She crocheted and crocheted, didn’t drive a car, enjoyed puzzles and knew the heartache of two offspring being killed in an auto accident, with a third being severely injured. Her husband worked at the USDA bin site in Westboro. She lived by the motto of “Don’t quit.” She lived 97 years and is buried with her family at High Creek. This is Faye’s story:

Dear fifth & sixth grade students,

In answering your letter, I will attempt to set forth some of the things that I hope will be of interest to you.

Taken mainly from the year 1927 – That year I was a third grader, attending a one room school, where there were approximately 27 other students, ranging in ages from six to 16 years, and grades first to eighth. I remember my teacher was rather young and so proud of her first job as a teacher. Our subjects were arithmetic, geography, science, reading, spelling, history and agriculture. As a third grader I didn’t take all these subjects, only reading, spelling, arithmetic and a form of writing exercises. The heating unit for the school was a large jacketed stove in which we burned coal.

For entertainment, we had spelling bees, ciphering contests and box suppers, among others. The box suppers always brought excitement and a contest of a type, to see who could decorate the most attractive box. The box was filled with tempting things to eat, then auctioned to the highest bidder. The person who prepared the box or held the number to the box (usually a young lady) and the one who bought it shared the contents.

For sports, we played games much as you do – softball, volleyball and anti-over (a game where the ball was tossed over the roof of the school house). If the ball was caught before touching the ground, the carrier of the ball, and his team, rushed around the school building and anyone on the opposite team that were tagged (with the ball) joined the team carrying the ball. To avoid being tagged, they had only to hurry to the other side of the building.

There were no games with visit-ing schools, because getting about was not like today’s bussing. Most of the students walked to school, their homes being from near to very far. Walking three to four miles was common. We carried our lunches in lunch boxes or paper bags.

Clothing was mainly cotton or wool. Boys wore chambray shirts and denim overalls. Girls wore cotton dresses or skirts and middies (blouses) and long cotton stockings (sometimes white). I remember spilling ink on my white ones and my mother removed the stain by soaking them in milk. As near as I can remember, the skirts were worn about midway between knee and ankle. Shoes were usually laced, and for dress, a black patent leather one-strap slipper. Sunday in my home was dress up, freshen up and clean up day.

In my home there were the usual three meals per day. If there were any snacks, it was fresh baked bread with real cow butter for a spread. The breakfasts were much larger meals than most of us prepare today, such as fried potatoes, eggs, biscuits, ham or smoked side from the smokehouse, fresh churned butter and cream to pour over the cooked cereal.

Our home in 1927 was a three-room farm house, although each room was very large, with ample room for my father, mother, two brothers and myself. Our bedroom was one long room, the full length of the house, which my mother partitioned into rooms with drapes for privacy. There were no conveniences as we know them today – no electricity, no hot and cold running water, and no TV, although we did have a radio and that was new to us at that time. We carried our drinking water from a spring. Have you ever drank spring water? It is crystal clear and oh so cold. Our rest room was a small building outside. We had oil lamps and lanterns for after night. And, wood and coal were the main heating and cooking fuels.

My father was a farmer. Even the cows that gave us milk, and the horses that took us to town for supplies, tilled the soil, and pulled the hay wagons were pets, although we did have cats and dogs. There were two dogs and a large number of cats that lived in the hay barn and cow sheds. We also had pigs, but I wasn’t too interested in them, except I thought the new baby pigs were cute. They were so pink and clean (until, of course, they found a mud puddle).

Chores were a must for each of us. I can remember gathering eggs, churning butter, carrying water from the spring, feeding the chickens, pulling weeds from the onion rows, and bringing in the cows from some far corner of the pasture. But, I never did learn to milk a cow.

Our holidays at home consisted of Christmas, Thanksgiving, Valentine’s Day, and Halloween. Then there were the birthdays and other special days, which gave us a very good reason to pack a picnic lunch.

Older people sometimes yearn for the quieter times of days gone by, but really, with all the hustle and bustle of fast moving events of today, we can still find a quiet place if we try. Did you ever sit by the side of a stream and watch the wind ripple the surface of the water? Hear a frog go HARRRUMPH, then a moment later another would answer? Or watch a bird flit through the branches of a tree and a bee buzz in the flower at your elbow? Try it sometime and you will hardly hear that car thundering across the bridge leaving a spray of rock and dust behind.

Thank you for letting me write this bit of memories from the past. I hope you find something interesting, entertaining, and educational in it. May your time of youth be every bit as happy as mine was and then some.

Very sincerely yours,

Mrs. Clarence (Faye) Clark, Westboro, Missouri