Clarice Melena Harding
An Autobiography
Additional material has
been added by W. Craig Burrell.
Birth:
28 April 1882
Parents:
Charles Harding and Matilda Josephine Zundel
Spouse:
Charles Jesse Hardy
Married:
21 October 1907
Death:
30 July 1969
In the spring,
April 28, 1882, in the
small city of Willard, Utah,
a baby girl was born to Matilda Josephine Zundel Harding and Charles Harding.
Their family consisted of six boys and two girls, this one making their ninth
child. They named her Clarice Melena Harding. Melena was the name of mother’s
sister Melena Zundel, and it was by my aunt’s request that they named me
Melena.
Growing up in the Small Town of Willard
My Father,
Charles Harding was a farmer and merchant; and no harder worker or more honest
man ever lived. He was very pleasant to everyone and always had a smile. He
would give his shoes away if he thought someone needed them. As we grew up, we
children spent many happy hours in our large orchard and large rock home that
was surrounded by trees and lawn.
We were not
allowed to go to school until we were six years old, but one of my brothers
Jacob Dwight Harding was ill and couldn’t attend school. Since his fee was
already paid, they let me go to school in his place before I was six years old.
I will never forget the joy I received from learning the alphabet from a large
chart that the teacher had on an easel. She would turn it over sheet by sheet.
I had already learned a good many of the letters, so, it was not as hard for me
as it was for many of the other girls and boys. I kept up with the class and
went right along with them the next year. Jennie Hubbard was my teacher for a
good many years. I remember one day something went wrong, and she kept my class
in at noon. She bought cheese and
crackers from the store so we didn’t miss lunch. Of course, this made us very
happy and we did not mind being kept in.
When I
turned eight years old it was very cold and stormy, and I could not be
baptized. I had to wait for a few days. Vilate Barker, two other girls and I
were taken down to a large pond of water where the early pioneers had built a
flour mill. We undressed in the willows that surrounded the pound. I was
baptized by my mother’s youngest brother, Uncle Daniel Zundel. The next Sunday
I was confirmed by my neighbor Owen Owens.
Our large
seven room house was built of granite rock and was completed in 1868. The rock
had been hauled down from the mountains east of Willard, and the house was
built by Mr. Shadrack Jones. There were three rooms upstairs and four
downstairs. The new kitchen was added later and was built out of brick. Our
first home, a two or three room adobe was torn down in 1870.
We lived on
the only highway that went through to Idaho,
Cache County
and points north. This highway is still a through highway. The two story rock
store north of our home was built around 1860. The upper story was often used
for the school. Robert Henderson was the first manager. This building was
burned while I was yet a little girl.
One night
after midnight we were all aroused. We
smaller children were carried in our night gowns across the road to Alfred
Ward’s home. Our large two story store was on fire. Although I was small, I can
remember standing in their front door and watching the long line of men handing
buckets of water to each other from the stream in front of our home to the
store. Some men were on top of our home pouring buckets of water on the wood
shingle roof. Thank goodness they saved our house. Mother was carrying arms of
clothing across the street because we never knew where the fire was going to
spread.
We learned
later that burglars had broken into the back of the store. They entered the
office and blew open the safe. Money and valuable papers were stolen. This was
a big loss to my father and Mr. Dock the man that was managing the store at the
time.
Father
always said he didn’t think the burglars lived very far away. He often said he
felt sure they could pick them up any day right in our little town. We always
had a few lazy good for nothing men with families in our town. They had to live,
and of course stealing was an easy way.
The store
was built again. Father and Mr. Dock built a large building a half block up the
street. It was on the east of the highway at the intersection of Center
Street. It was completed in 1900. The lower part
was used for a store, and the upper story was a dance hall. Young people
traveled from Brigham City,
Farwest, Perry, Plain City
and other little towns for dances. We surely had a lovely dance hall. George
Harding, my brother, played the bass violin. Joe my older brother played the
violin and my sister Sarah played the piano. Henry Stafford played the violin.
The orchestra played for all the dances, and once in a while would go out of
town to play for a dance.
On our lot
we had a large granary full of wheat, another one full of corn and a chicken
coop full of chickens. Never were any of these buildings locked up. This one
little incident happened. My brother George F. Harding was coming home from Brigham
City at midnight
after visiting his girl friend. Just as he opened the big gates to drive in, a
man with a sack of wheat on his shoulder was just coming out of our driveway.
George recognized the man and asked him what he was doing. The man spoke up and
promised George that if he would say nothing about this incident, he would
never steal again. I asked my brother many times to tell me who the man was,
but he would never tell.
We always
went to Primary which was held on Saturdays. Then we had Religion Class. Our
teacher was our neighbor John Ward. One evening in meeting he asked if I would
open with prayer. I was so frightened; I said no. That taught me a lesson. I
was so ashamed of myself that I never refused again no matter how frightened I
was. I always tried to do the best I could.
At the age
of fourteen I joined the Mutual, at that time it was called the Young Ladies
Association. Nancy Harding was the President. She was my cousin, and all through
my life she was my ideal of a woman.
Mother had
two more girls after me. Elizabeth
was born 6 September 1884
and Jennie Lavern was born 1 October
1887. After five years on 28
March 1892 she had another baby girl we named Ivy Lavon. She only
lived five months. Her death was a terrible shock to Mother. It was hard to
think she had to loose her twelfth child. We all enjoyed and loved baby Ivy
Lavon while she was with us.
My Grandma and Grandpa Zundel
Mother’s
Mother, Sarah Forstner Zundel was a very beautiful woman. She lived with Aunt
Melena, and we used to go every day to take her milk and a piece of cake, pie,
bread or whatever mother had baked. I never did see her cross. She always had a
smile on her face. She always called me Clarie. She always had something for us
children. Sometimes it was only a peanut or a piece of apple. I often heard my
Mother say that no one could love a mother more dearly that she did hers. Aunt
Melena was Mother’s sister and was a single mother with only one son, Alphonzo
Brimhall. She was divorced from her husband Noah Brimhall.
Grandmother
Zundel had always been a hard worker. Her parents had joined the Rapp Society
in Pennsylvania. They worked for
Mr. Rapp in the fields cutting grain with a sickle. She was bent over and one
hip was larger than the other. She said it was the hard work in the fields that
did this to her. Old Mr. Rapp would not let any of the young people in the
society get married. Grandfather, John Jacob Zundel and Grandmother left the
society with twenty five other young couples to get married. In the society
they all learned a trade. Grandmother was a glove maker. Grandfather was a
butcher. He always did the butchering for all of the people in Willard. I do
not remember Grandfather Zundel; he died while I was a small child. Mother used
to tell the story about him being one of Mr. Rapp’s favorite trusties. Rapp
used to store his money in trunks and boxes. The weight was too great for the
floor of his house. He asked the trusties to help him move the money to the
basement. Grandfather said that they were moving trunks and boxes of gold and
silver for hours.
When
Grandfather Zundel knew he was moving out west, he gathered all kinds of seeds
and stones. He knew how to graft branches into a tree. It was not long, only a
few years before he had fruit of all kinds. I remember a small blue prune that
mother used to pick to make preserves. They were delicious to eat.
Grandmother
Sarah Forstner was a wonderful manager. She was just like my mother. She could
get a good meal together in a short time out of nothing. Some of my friends would
go with me to visit her. They would ask me what Grandmother was saying. She
would say some words in German. I would not notice it because I had grown up
listening to her. She was only sick for three days and passed away while we
were to Sunday school. I felt so terrible. She asked for me just before she
passed away on 10 April 1898.
She was 89 years old.
Learning to Work and to be Industrious
Looking
back at my childhood, I remember the happy hours we spent in our orchard which
covered a half block. Northwest of our kitchen door was a large red apple tree
and another was located just south of the house. They were like shade trees and
were loaded every year with delicious apples. I didn’t like to climb trees.
However, I would climb up on one large limb to shake the tree a few times to
provide all of us and the neighbor kids with apples. Sometimes we would fill a
pan with ten or twelve big red apples and go out on the highway in front of our
house. We would sell the apples to travelers for ten or fifteen cents a piece.
We would see a lot of covered wagons traveling the highway.
In the back
of our house to the west was a large apricot tree that was loaded every year
with from six to twelve bushels of fruit. I used to stand under that old tree
and eat apricots. I wouldn’t dare say how many.
No one in town had as many different apple
trees as we did. We had twenty-six varieties. Some were early apples and some
were late. One particular apple was of a medium size and turned green with red
stripes in the early fall. It was the best tasting apple. We had a red apple
named the ‘Bell Flower.’ It was the same shape of the Delicious apples we have
today. The large round green apple called the Parmain was so sweet we called it
the ‘Sweet Apple.’ Another large green apple was called the ‘Grindstone.’ It
was surely hard. However, if they were kept in a cool dry place for the winter
they were delicious in the spring. They turned a delicate yellow and were very
mellow and juicy. We had another medium apple that was like the Jonathan we
have today. I just cannot describe all of the different apples we had.
When cold
weather came, Father would dig a large pit and line it with straw. The apples
would be picked from the trees and stored in the pit. When the pit was heaping
full, straw was placed over the top, and then it was covered with dirt. We made
a hole in one side where we could pull out the straw and get all the apples we
wanted. Of course, we had to cover up the hole with straw and dirt again. I
would take apples to school for some of my friends. One time Mother was making
me a new calico dress. I asked her to make a bigger pocket in it so I could
carry medium weight apples to school. I thought it was strange that the people
in town with lots of money never had an apple tree for their children. We had a
few stingy families in Willard. We noticed it more because Father was so good
hearted.
We had many
peach trees near the house. Most of them today would be called seedlings
because they came up from a peach pit. They were the most delicious peaches
with sugar and cream I have ever tasted. None of them grew very large, but they
all had this delicious flavor. We would gather five and six bushel at one time.
After we sat down and took the pits out, we would spread them out to dry on a
large sheet. Each one of us girls could have all the peaches we could pit and
dry. The store would buy them for three cents a pound. That was not very much
when you consider how much work was involved.
We had a
large patch of blackberries, black raspberries, red English currents and
gooseberries; my how good the first picking of gooseberries was. We had a large
patch of raspberries down in the field. We would get up at four o’clock in the morning and pick berries until the
sun was high in the sky and it got too hot. Some mornings we would pick five or
six double cases, 24 cups to the case. We would sell them for $1.25 a case.
In the big
orchard we had 50 peach and 150 pear trees. When the peaches and pears were
ripe, we had to pick the ripe ones and wrap them according to size. They were
packed in two layer crates, the lid was nailed on, and they were taken to the
fruit dealer to ship out of town. Joe may eldest brother handled most of the
shipping of fruit in town.
South of
our home we had twenty large blue plum trees. These plums, that were as big as
eggs, were also crated and shipped. There were also twenty wild plum trees that
came up from seed down in the field. These were picked and sold.
Another big
event for us children was when the grain was cut and stacked. We would wait our
turn for the thrashers to come and thrash our wheat. When the crew was there,
we had bacon and eggs, fried potatoes, hot corn bread with honey and fruit.
Chickens were killed and kettles of home made noodles were cooked. There were
also pies and cakes. When the thrashers came, mother would have ten to fifteen
men to feed in addition to our family. We younger children liked to take our
shoes off and walk around in the wheat that was dumped into the bin. We had to
get out of the way when a new load was hauled in. My father would take sacks of
wheat to Ogden to the grist mill.
They would grind the wheat and father would bring home sacks of white flour,
whole wheat flour and bran that we used to fatten the hogs. He also would have
corn ground and bring home corn meal and germade. I liked to ride down to Ogden
with Father.
I think of Mother
and the crew she had to cook for. There were not only eleven children. Usually we
had company and hired hands sitting at the table. There would always be 12 to
16 sitting around the table at every meal. She always made the best of
everything, and I never heard her complain. She was a very good manager.
Father
always raised plenty of potatoes, carrots and cabbage for winter. We had a
large vegetable garden down in the field. The women of the family would harness
up our horses to the delivery wagon and go down to the field to pick our own
vegetables. The men were too busy on the farm to help us.
In our
town, Father was the only one that grew navy beans. We had plenty to cook, and
we could sell them at the store for three or four cents a pound. Mother would
catch four to six chickens and tie their legs together. I had to carry them to
the store. The store would give us due bills that could only be redeemed at
that store. Mother never had to worry about money for groceries.
When the
crops were all gathered in, Father and the boys would kill a hog, smoke the
hams and shoulders and try out the side fat for lard to bake with. We always had
a beef to kill. Father would dress it and hang the two sides in the granary
with a clean sheet wrapped around it. It would keep frozen all winter. We would
have to saw off the piece of beef we wanted each day. In those days the winters
were colder and snow stayed on the ground for months.
Fire wood
came from the mountains to the east. Father and the boys would stay up on the
mountain for a whole day and return with a large wagon load of logs cut the
length of the wagon box. These logs would be cut into pieces small enough to
burn in the stoves after they were unloaded at home. In later years, we would
purchase a ton of coal to burn with the wood and that surely seemed good.
When the
corn was dry, it was husked. Some of the dry cobs were placed in the corn crib.
An Indian squaw came every year and shelled part of the corn off of the cobs.
Part of this was taken to the flour mill to grind for corn
meal. Some of the shelled corn was used to feed the stock. The Indian squaw’s
name was Jane. She would never come into the house to eat. We always took a
plate out to her and she would eat on the porch.
Everyone in
town baked their own bread. Mother used to bake nine loaves of bread every
other day. A lot of Washakie Indians came to town to beg for sugar and bread.
They would have a sack tied to their waist with a rope. They would get a loaf
at almost every other house. Sometimes their bags were so full they could
hardly walk.
Mother made
good pies and spice cake. One pie I really liked was what she called ‘Vinegar Pie.’
None of us remember how she made it. We always made our own yeast from grated
raw potatoes. Mother had a large two gallon crock in which she would place
grated potatoes, water, salt and a cup of old yeast as a starter. She would add
a spoon of sugar to the mixture every other day to keep the yeast alive. If we
happened to use it all up, we would go down to Sister Millers and exchange a
cup of sugar for a cup of old yeast to start a new batch
We raised
horse radish. Father would dig up some of the roots and wash them. We girls
would take turns grating them on a grater in a pan; O’ my how it would make
your eyes smart. After it was grated, it was put in bowls with vinegar and
sugar. We ate it on our meat, and it was good if you liked smarty relish.
It was
interesting to watch Mother make candles. I do not remember if her candle mold
made six or eight at a time. She would heat mutton tallow and pour the molds
half full of grease. Then she would place a string down the middle of each mold
over the grease. The molds were then filled to the top with grease and the top
was closed. Mutton tallow gets cold soon; so, she could soon take them out and
put in another lot. The pretty white candles were stored away. A batch would
last us for a year.
It sounds easy
to make your own candles, soap, butter, cheese and other things. However if we
had to make all the things we purchase at the store today, we would find that
it takes a lot of time. Mother spent a lot of time providing us with these
goods that are so easily purchased today. She was an excellent manager and
never complained.
Once a
year, usually in the spring, we would borrow a large brass kettle. I really do
not know who this belonged to, as everyone in our neighborhood would use it. It
held at least fifteen gallons. All of the fat was saved from the slaughter of
hogs and beef during the winter. It was put in the kettle and the kettle was
placed over a bon fire. The kettle stood on three legs over the fire. Lye and
water were put in the kettle with the fat, and it would boil for hours. The
mixture had to be stirred constantly. Mother tested it every little while. When
it was just right, it would be poured out in large flat boxes lined with clean
paper and left for a day. When it had solidified, the soap was tipped out of
the boxes onto a big wooden door that was used to cover the cellar entrance.
The soap was cut into squares and left to dry for several days until it was
hard. It was stored and used for all purposes: washing, cleaning etc.
Mother used
to make the best cheese; in fact it was the best cheese I have ever eaten. It
seems that I was always around when mother was doing these things. I think it
was because I wanted to learn how things were made. We had a new boiler like
the one Mother used to boil clothes in. This one was used just for making
cheese. She would fill the boiler almost full of milk. She added some salt and
some rennet. The rennet caused the curds to form. When large curds were formed,
she put the mixture through a strainer to separate the curds from the whey. The
cheese molds were lined with cheese cloth. She only had two cheese molds. One
only held eight or ten pounds, and the other was larger. The curds were placed
into the molds, and the round lid was set on top. A weight was placed on the
lid to keep it pressing down firmly. After about a week, Mother would cut into
one. It was a real light colored cheese because she didn’t put any color into
it. O’ my, it was delicious.
Father used
to raise a lot of sugar cane, and he had the only molasses mill in town.
The cane would grow to be eight to ten feet tall. In the
fall it was cut and placed in piles. Everyone that raised cane in town had a
designated place to stack his pile. The cane was put through the juicer and
boiled down to molasses one pile at a time. Every farmer received his own
product back. The mill was made with rollers, and a horse was harnessed to one
end of a long pole. As the horse walked in a circle, the cane was placed by
hand between the rollers. The juice would run out into a vat. Then the mixture
was boiled down and skimmed. It was placed into a third vat where it was boiled
down again. After that, the molasses was as clear as honey. It was placed into
forty gallon barrels. We used to sell it for 40 cents a gallon. Father received
a percentage of the other farmer’s molasses that he processed for them. In the
evening you could always see boys and girls standing in line with their little
buckets waiting to get a bucket full of skimmings. They would use them to make
molasses candy. Father was very generous with the children. He often added real
molasses in along with the skimmings.
Father was
always generous with what he raised on the farm. I believe that is why he never
wanted and always had plenty to provide for his children and also to educate
them. The Lord blesses those that give, because he tells us if we give we shall
receive.
We raised a
lot of hay on the farm. Our large barn was half full of hay. In the other half
of the barn we housed the cows and horses. We also had another big shed for hay
storage.
We were
very proud of our large bay horses, Jim and Dan. We had the only surrey in town,
and we pulled it with the bays. We used the delivery wagon to go down in the
field to pick vegetables.
One day
Mother wanted to go to Ogden in the
buggy to do a little shopping. I put the harness on old Duke, a small sorrel
horse. He was a little slow and was pretty rusty to drive anywhere. We were
about five miles from the house passing the hot springs
when Duke decided to kick. He kicked his back leg over the shaft and was stuck.
I couldn’t drive him that way, so, I unhooked him and led him out from between
the shafts. I had to back him in place and hook him up again. It usually took
over two hours to drive the fifteen miles to Ogden.
We had a
smaller bay horse named Prince. We sometimes drove him in the buggy. The girls
could ride him with the side saddle. In those days it was not proper for a lady
to ride astride. Occasionally, Prince performed a little kick that would flip
us out of the saddle and over his head.
I go to College
In the fall
of 1898 I attended the Agricultural College
in Logan. Etta Edwards a girl from
home and I rented one room from a lovely lady named Sister Adams. Our folks
hauled up a supply of fruits and vegetables. The room had an iron bed, a chest
of drawers and a little table. We used a wooden crate as a cupboard. We dressed
it up with a curtain and made some shelves. We had a wood stove that was good
for cooking. It kept us warm. Primping was done in a 12” x 14” mirror that was
hanging above a little stand. We rigged a curtain across one corner of the room
and hung our clothes behind it. One of our favorite things to eat was baked
dried apples.
One day
while we were getting ready to go to a party. Etta was curling her hair with a
curling iron. She fumbled with the iron, and it hit her eye. It made a white
mark which I knew was a burn. I had heard that grated raw potatoes were good
for a poultice on a burn. I grated potatoes and put a pack on her eye for
several hours. We prayed that this would work. The next morning the mark was
gone, and she could see as good as ever. I think that the prayer was more
effective than the potatoes.
Father Dies
I returned
home from school in the spring of 1899. Father took sick in June that same year.
He came home real sick from the fields, and Mother called the Doctor in Brigham
City. There was a purple rash under his skin. The
doctor said he had Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever that is carried by ticks. I
used to spend a lot of time in his room. One day he said, “Clarie, I sure wish
you could rub my legs because they ache so bad.” I knew that the doctor did not
want us to rub them. While the doctor was examining Father and working on him,
he exclaimed in a low voice that Father was gone. I just felt terrible. It was
a shock to all of us. Father had an internal hemorrhage and there was nothing
that could have been done about it. I’m sure nobody could know how terrible
mother felt.
My brother
Daniel was on his way home from a mission in Germany
and my brother Jacob was on his way to Germany.
Father and an Adams boy in Logan
were the first two cases of Spotted Fever in Utah,
and Father was the first one in Utah
to lose his life from this disease. Father’s funeral was the largest ever held
in Willard. One hundred buggies and carts were counted.
I gave up
my plans to attend college after Father died. I moved to Salt
Lake City to find work, and this city has been my
permanent home ever since. I found work at Banks Wholesale and Retail Millinery
Store. It was one of the largest stores of its kind this side of Chicago.
They carried the most beautiful stock of imported flowers and plumes; some of
them were priced from $75 to $100 a piece. I worked for five dollars a week as
an apprentice. Twenty-six girls worked at the store which was located at 112
South Main Street.
Marriage and a Mission
to Germany
At this
point we, will leave the first person account of Clarice’s life, and I will
continue to narrate what happened after she was married.
While
living in Salt Lake,
Clarice met Charles Jesse Hardy. They dated and saw a lot of each other. On 19 September 1907 he received a
mission call under the hand of President Joseph F. Smith. He was to leave from Salt
Lake City on 30
October 1907 to serve in the Switzerland
and Germany
mission.
Charley’s
family was not in a strong financial situation. Clarice was doing well working
in the millinery store at the time. His bishop suggested that he should marry
Clarice before he left so she could help pay for his mission. Charles and
Clarice were married on 23 October
1907. They received their endowments and were sealed together for
time and eternity in the Salt Lake
Temple.
While
Charley served his mission, Clarice helped support him financially and
spiritually. It was a difficult separation especially when they had only been
together for a week before he left.
On 17 April 1910 Clarice traveled to Germany
to meet Charley and travel home with him. Her sister Elizabeth Harding traveled
with her. They met him in Hanover,
and Charles and Clarice had a joyous reunion. They had a wonderful tour of Europe
on their way home and had a safe but exciting journey.
Charlie
finally found employment working as a Level Man for Salt
Lake City’s Engineering Department. They were blessed
with three daughters: Josephine Marinda (1911), Clarice Ruth (1913) and Kathryn
(1919). Little Clarice had a weak heart and died the day she turned eight years
old. It was a terrible tragedy for the family.
They moved
into a home of their own in 1914. It was located on the corner of Eighth East
and Yale Avenue. In 1939
they had a basement apartment constructed. It was and extra income for the
family. They never had trouble keeping it occupied, and it was a welcome income
for Clarice in her later years.
Activity in the Church
Clarice was
very active in the church and had a variety of assignments. For a ten year
period she worked with ward ‘Road Shows’ and Plays. She was in charge of the
wardrobes. What she couldn’t find she sewed.
She taught
a junior genealogical class in the 31st Ward. Later she served on
the Genealogical Stake Board for years taking hundreds of boys and girls to the
temple for baptisms for the dead. Hundreds of boys and girls had the
opportunity to perform proxy baptisms for tens of thousands who had passed on.
Family
history work was a passion for Clarice. For years she gathered Harding, Zundel
and Holbrook names and information from resources available at the Family
History Library. The data she collected is available on microfilm at the Salt
Lake Family History Library. She was able to research many generations of her
ancestors and document their lives. She was diligent to submit these names to
the temple so sacred ordinances could be preformed for them by proxy.
Her nephew
Glen F. Harding M.D. published three books on Harding family history. She
worked very closely with him on this project providing him with the necessary
pedigree charts, family group sheets, pictures and personal histories.
These books
include:
Dwight
Harding Family Book, published in 1968 by Glen F. Harding M.D.
John Jacob
Zundel Family Book, published in 1973 by Glen F. Harding M.D.
Abraham
Harding Family Book, published in 1973 by Glen F. Harding M.D.
Grandchildren
Clarice’s
daughter Josephine married Richard Donald Wellard. They were not able to have
children, but they were able to adopt an infant son Wallace Donald Wellard
(1944).
Her
daughter Kathryn married Wilfred Burrell and they had five children: Kaylene
(1942), Wilfred Craig (1944), Charles Alfred (1948), Constance
(1954) and Kent Donald (1957).
Clarice
lost Charley in 1956. He had worked until the day he had a stroke in 1951. She
spent many years living alone until she died in 1969.
It was fun
to go to Grandma Hardy’s house. She was a wonderful cook and always had treats.
Sometimes she would put some change in a little purse and send us down to
Lobrott’s store that was a half of a block away. We could buy a Popsicle or a Milknickel.
Grandma
liked to put us to work. When we weeded in the garden, she would stand over us
and tell us the “Willard Utah” name for each plant. She always let us put up
her Christmas tree. This was a particular joy to my sister Kaylene. When I was
big enough, I would mow her lawns. She also gave us house work, dusting or
washing walls. I was painting some woodwork for her in the summer of 1963 when
my mom called to announce that my mission call had arrived in the mail. Grandma
was as excited as I was.
She felt that every young man should go on a mission; and
encouraged her grandsons by starting a missionary account for each of them.
Grandma was
always sewing something, and her old treadle sewing machine was the focal point
of her kitchen. She had a little room that was full of material. Some of it was
left over from projects and a lot of it had been given to her. It seemed that her
goal was to use every scrap of it. She made a lot of quilts. Grandma made a lot
of clothes for her granddaughters, and she made shirts for us boys. I was
really into chartreuse when I was young, and she made me a bright chartreuse
shirt that I dearly loved.
I can
remember recruiting her to help me with a special sewing project. I was making
a pair of elk hide chaps. She sewed the body of the chaps to the belt with her
old sewing machine. When she was done, she said, “I wouldn’t do this for anyone
but you.”
In her
younger years, she was taught never to waste food. She had some plum trees in
the backyard. We would help her pick the plums and she made some wonderful jam.
If anyone ever gave her some apples or other fruit she would utilize it before
it spoiled. I can remember her making apple sauce and giving it away to
neighbors.
The
following poem depicts how I remember Grandma Hardy.
Clarice
Grandma’s kitchen was bright and full of fun.
She filled it with homemade aromas and stories that were homespun.
At 80, her health was only fair, but her outlook on life was awesome.
She exercised her arthritic legs on the old treadle sewing machine,
always sewing for someone.
A few blocks away there was a kitchen filled with darkness.
Lydia filled it with regret, self pity and
bitterness.
At 63, Lydia’s health was only fair, and her outlook on life was grim.
Her thoughts were centered on herself and the pain in each arthritic
limb.
Grandma finished filling the box with applesauce, homemade rolls and
fresh plums to eat.
“Charley,” she said to my younger brother, the enthusiastic errand boy,
“Take this to the old crippled woman who lives down the street.”
By W. Craig Burrell
