GROWING UP IN THE PARSONAGE
by Betty Warren
Tarzon of the Jungle, Thuva, Maid of Mars,Journey to Center of the Earth by Edgar Rice Burroughs, were some of the great engines that powered the imagination of the youngster in the Parsonage. She had already been exploring the Universe with her father, the young minister.
In Northern Wisconsin the Northern Lights were sometimes visible as shifting moving green lights which her father pointed out when he was showing and naming the Constellations. So she traveled the Universe in the company of her father and the Omniscient, Omnipotent, and Omnipresent God. Dad had pronounced and spelled those three glorious words for her
She had been living in the Parsonage since the summer of 1926. The family (Dad- 44, Mom – 34. Betty – 8, Bill – 6. Dick – 4. and Grandma Clark – 70 something) had been staying in the Kemmerer’s Cabin on Black Oak Lake until the Parsonage was finished..
The furniture came and they moved in. It was the most beautiful home she had ever seen. The living room was large enough for Sunday Service. (Dad said we were waiting for Donaldson School to be available). The living room had a bay window and bench at the front, the fireplace opposite with a big couch facing it. The fireplace was fascinating, watching the flames reflected in the mica rock, and listening to the stories Grandma use to tell us: one was “The Flower Clock in the Garden” and the other “The Sod Hut in the West.”
The dining room was across from the living room with the kitchen at the back of the house. The basement stairs to the left of the back entrance. Outside, the woodshed, then the garage facing the house. The driveway from County Trunk B came straight up past the house, made a left turn round the house to the back door for unloading people and groceries.
Inside the front door was a closet under the stairs for coats, boots, mittens and caps. Mittens on a long string so we wouldn’t lose them. Then, the stairs going up, landing with a window,, then up again. Grandma’s was the first bedroom on the left. A big one with a rocking chair and small table and chair and double bed, chest of drawers and a cedar chest. Next me. The boys shared the back bedroom. The attic ladder pull was outside their door, the laundry chute in the wall and the bathroom at the end of the hall. Going back on the other side was a utility room, then nursery, then Mom and Dad’s big bedroom.
Off the living room was a sun porch, three sides open to the sun. In the summer they were screened and in the winter had storm windows. When I felt like dancing I had a nifty place to go to.
I had gone down to the basement early one morning with Dad to see the stoked fire. When he opened the furnace door to put the coal in I had a quick look at the flames. It was fascinating.
The attic was the exciting place to play. Grandma let us get into her trunk of old clothes. I would try everything on being very very careful of all the lovely things and putting them all back again carefully. I had promised.
The attic was also a good place to see what else was going on. One year the end of summer we could see seven different forest fires to the south and west of us. Mom said I should go over to the Community House to help make sandwiches for the fire fighters. I would rather be out helping to fight the fires with the boys. Bill and Dick each had a fire fighting outfit and a shovel. They had all the fun and I had to make sandwiches. It was sort of exciting however, when the fire fighters came in covered with soot and really appreciating the sandwiches and milk. Mom and I were there for a long time helping with the dishes and then she said we could go home. I was glad to go home and find my beautiful home hadn’t burned down after all. I didn’t tell anyone about my feelings. Ever, I didn’t talk much, because of the stutter, I started stuttering when I was 5 or 6 and didn’t stop until I was 13 or 14. Never with my own family, but around people who made me feel nervous, then I stuttered
Speed. Flying on ice skates. How I loved to ice skate on frozen lakes when the weather made it possible. A frost before the snows came than it was possible. The shallower lakes would freeze solid, with the deep lakes we skated near the shores. And listened for the deep boom that meant cracking ice. Mom would take the girl scouts ice skating and bring kindling marshmallows, cocoa and we would have a treat after skating. Everybody loved it.
Another thing that was an escape from every day living like ice skating, was music. I learned much later in life that it was an out-of-body experience.
Dad had a record of the Hallelujah Chorus. He told me to go to the back wall of the Community House. I did. And he started the record. It took hold of me. I sat down on the floor, then stood up again. I could feel it going through by whole body and I went with it. Somewhere, I don’t know where. That was my first experience with music for and of the Soul. Later, much later, I heard Wagner’s Tannhauser and Lohengrin, Same thing. For me, that was Soul Music
Next came the hymns we sang in Church and all of a sudden, from one moment to the next, my heart was opened up, and there was Jesus standing there and he was smiling.
After that happened I really listened to Dad’s sermons. He preached at Watersmeet, Michigan, a town about 8 miles north of Land O’ Lakes, Sunday night. I rode up with him to listen to the sermon again, and I got more out of it the second time.
When I was 12 I joined the church with the other 12 year olds. We had each memorized the 23rd Psalm, and repeated it after which Dad presented s with a bible and welcomed us into the church.
Before we moved to Land O’ Lakes we lived in Ashland, Wisconsin. Mom was busy with Bill and about to have Dick, so Grandma took me on an excursion by boat on Lake Superior, down Lake Huron through the canal and up Lake Erie where we were met by Aunt Etty Ware and her family who lived in Batavia, New York. I loved the excitement of being on the water and thought the Captain was very much like God. I do remember Grandma waking me at 4 am one morning to watch “going through the locks”. We went through one lock then stopped and waited for enough water to move forward, did the same thing again, and once more.
Grandma would sit on a deck chair where she could keep an eye on me and I would stand by the railing, hanging on and watch the water. I loved the water and could watch it forever. It changed in shape and color. The shape because of the waves and the color because of the clouds and sun and blue skies.
Aunt Etty met us at Buffalo, New York and Grandma was so glad to see them. I think she was crying she was so happy and I was happy because she was. They lived on a farm but somebody else took care of the farm.. They had some interesting books I had not read before. I started reading early in life, Mom said.
When we returned home to Ashland I found I had, yet, another baby brother. Oh well, maybe someday a baby sister.
Then it was time to move to Land O’ Lakes. I went to Donaldson School, a two room – 4 grades in each room – country school. I was in fourth grade and Bill in second. The school was three miles from the village and Barefoot Charlie drove the school bus which was a truck with two benches on each side and a canvas top covering it. In the
warm weather Barefoot Charlie wore moccasins and in the winter he wore socks with the moccasins. He knew some good songs. Red River Valley was one.
Vi Flodin was one of my pals in 4th grade and we were good friends all through grade school. Went our separate ways when Vi stayed with the Ely’s in Winnetka and finished school, then college
One of my favorite things to do was climbing trees, find a good place to sit high up and have a good and apple with me. Get into the story, then look out to see whee I was. It was a good life.
May 21, 2001
Dear Family and Friends,

It happened suddenly, I realized I no longer miss the Bay. The Rock, the waves breaking spectacularly against the North Jetty. I use to sit on one particular rock hold the camera to my eye watching a wave toll in so that I could snap the wave slamming down on rocks and the spray reaching a seemingly impossible height – at the peak I took the picture.
Took pictures of stormy skies over Morro Bay, and beautiful sunsets. Of brown pelicans up close and white pelicans from a distance. Of a snowy egret standing on one leg waiting for a minnow in a small stream inland. I drove past, saw it, stopped and backed up. I almost always carried my camera with me.
Walking to the end of the one hundred foot pier at Cayucos and back stopped at the point where the waves had ceased to build up and were ready to break. There was the smooth green translucent roll of water about to smash down on the beach with a roar.
Power
I looked for water in its quiet still mood and found it in pockets along the shore beside the road to the Rock.
When my sister Jean was visiting , we stopped at the spot and saw the tide changing. We timed it but I’ve forgotten. I remember there was a pause between the tides. First it was coming in then going out.
The eleven years at Morro Bay are part of me as memories, cemented through the pictures which made it easy to dispose of the six-inch stack of photos just before moving to Fayetteville to live with my son.
I was starting a new life, a change, opening a door into unknown areas and knew I couldn’t look back with regret at anything in the past. I wished only to lie in and enjoy the present.
I purchased a two bedroom home in rural Fayetteville. It included a one bedroom apartment, shower bathroom and kitchen facilities under separate roof. Purchased it with a GI Loan from the two years service in WW11. George was amazed that I had flown a B-25 for an hour during that period, also that I had 12 hours flying lessons under by belt but never soloed. Maybe I’ll do it again – fly. We’ll see.
George has two little doxies, Snoopy (big red) and Lady Bug,small black and tan and in February of this year brought home a puppy, Cammy short for camouflage, black and tan with gray smudges, from Florida.
She would terrorize the cat belonging to the young couple who had her. So George brought her to me. Lady Bug decided she didn’t want another female in the family (a puppy yet, she and Snoopy were 9 year – siblings, and a terrorist to boot). She and Cammy had a couple of knock down, drag out fights – no blood shed. Snoopy the peace lover had nothing to do with either one until they got it straightened out, and they did. Now we’re one big happy family. Snoopy has a look of wisdom in his big brown eyes and keeps the two ladies in line by slobbering their ears and they like it. I don’t . I keep a terry rag handy when they jump up on my lap in the evening.
Sometime last year George brought home a motorcycle with an attached side car that holds two people. (The one we brought with us to the family reunion). With just me in it I tend to bounce around so we now have two king size pillows holding me in. The right handle of the bike has two jobs. 1. Hang on to it and 2.Turn your hand toward you and the bike will turn right. You must roll your hand while hanging on to the bike. I didn’t get that part and never will. George had us practicing in the front yard. He was in the side car and I was on the bike but I kept heading straight for our cedar tree and George grabbed the bike each time. I said forget it, I’d rather ride in Matilda anyway. You ride the bike. He had it out the other day practicing wheelies and he gets the third wheel off the ground – went around the block with the third wheel in the air. “Not with me in it you don’t,” He installed some electronics so I could play my CD of “The Ride Of The Valkyries” when we take our country-road rides. I enjoy these rides so much.
On my 892nd birthday last November, he said dress warmly, we’re going for a ride in Matilda. He wouldn’t tell me where. We ended up at Ft. Bragg. Stopped facing the 82nd Airborne Division Chapter’s Chorus. They sang “Happy Birthday” to me. They asked how an 82 year old could look so young? Which was nice. His friends and mine Carrie and Matt were there on their bikes (they are active Paratroopers) and took us to lunch afterwards.
It was Carrie and Matt who sent a limo to pick me up for their wedding Oct. 7, 2000. After the service at the Chapel another limo took the two bridesmaids, best man, and me to the reception in the Rec Club. The girls had lovely floor length gowns and one had knee-hi’s, jump boots and the other ankle-hi tennies. They were both paratroopers and preferred flats to heels.
And now May 3, 2001, early in the evening George said he was going to watch the drag races. “OK” And he left. He called me from the park and asked if I wanted to ride in a dragster. Yes. He’d be home in half an hour to get me. We drove Matilda right up to where this dragster was sitting. There were two of them.(1) They have a 265” wheel base, about 21 ft 3” long. (2) 468 cubic inch big block Chevy engine. (3) Power glide transmission (4) Top fuel dragster. It took about 15-20 minutes to get me tied down, strapped in to where I couldn’t move my legs, arms, head. The ride was over in 5 seconds. In those 5 seconds we went from 0 to 125 MPH.
Experienced a couple of G’s and felt like an astronaut. We got back to where George was waiting and I looked at him and said “again’? Do you want to go again? Yes, please, So I did. The second time was better than the first. The driver cut off some time. It was an eighth of a mile run. That was my Mother’s Day gift from George. Perfect. The announcer said there was an 82 year old grandmother riding in one of the dragsters. I didn’t hear him thru the helmet but George told me and that’s why people came over afterwards to congratulate me.
So that’s it. I have my days of quiet, reading, music, puzzles, dogs and swimming, then George comes home and we have exciting fun.
All my love, Betty