Thursday, February 23, 2012

Clarice Melena Harding My Grandmother


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
January 1998


Clarice 1902

Clarice 1898

Clarice 1905

Josephine, Kathyn, Clarice Melena and Clarice Ruth 1921

Clarice 1940

Clarice about 1948

Clarice 1956

2 comments:

  1. So many of these pictures I've never seen. I love it! Thank you for sharing!

    ReplyDelete
  2. My great-great grandfather was Daniel Zundel - thanks so much for the stories.

    ReplyDelete