The drought has ended!!!

Okay, so it's been eight years since I've (or anyone else) has posted anything here, and I guess it's about time.  In those intervening years, Ian has grown up and graduated from Alfred University (the fifth consecutive generation) and is now headed to Alfred State College for a nursing degree -- and he's about to get married!  Jeanette and I divorced in 2016, after struggling for several years -- and say what you want about who is responsible, but Ian has told people, including me, that he thinks his parents are happier now.  And, speaking of happier, my sweetheart nowadays is a paramedic student, horsewoman, seamstress, professional driver (including being captain of A.E. Crandall Hook and Ladder Company's 100-foot aerial), mother of four children, and owner of 10 or 11 cats (although I understand cats have staff, not owners), by the name of Valarie Ann Gregory.  We plan to move her and the cats and the horses to my place on the hill and make it ours. 
You may know that, after graduating from high school in three years just to get out of there, I spent my freshman college year at Alfred University and then transferred to Friends World College, a Quaker institution which used experiential learning rather than classroom instruction, to educate its students.  I spent one semester at the North American campus on Long Island, sitting in seminars, riding horses, sailing on Lloyd Harbor, reading books, listening to my advisor read the poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke and passages from her book on the poet, sitting in Friends meeting for worship, and going on field trips, all in order to develop my own course of study.  Each student met regularly with their advisor and kept a journal, and it was on this basis which we earned our college credit.  For second semester, I rode a bus to Wisconsin and then caught a ride to Boulder, Colorado with a friend (who, for a brief time, I considered my girlfriend), where I did volunteer work at the Native American Rights Fund (a legal organization staffed by, and working for the benefit of, Native Americans), learned Lakota from the man who had just finished creating the first teaching text of the language, took a short geology course which included a flight up and down the Rocky Mountains in a Cessna airplane, went camping and skateboarding with Matt Fitz Randolph who was living with his parents in the same house I had come home to after being born, and spent time looking for eagles with a Crow "Indian" by the name of Sam. 
I returned to Long Island in May and spent time with other students, reflecting on our experiences, and then returned to Alfred, where I helped Uncle Bill Parry build a deck and his artistic creations, in exchange for his taking me into his studio and teaching me about how he made sculptures. 
That autumn, I had planned to travel to Kyoto, Japan, to Friends World College's Asian Center, in order to study Japanese culture, and look into how smaller, more isolated nations dealt differently with resource extraction and exploitation, than did large, continental nations like the United States.  I had planned to go on to Iceland the following year, and later made contact with a family there, and began to learn the language.  But that is getting ahead of myself. 
I had acquired a passport and visa and a ticket for a chartered flight to Japan, stopping off in Pusan, Korea, which necessitated my getting a second smallpox vaccination, since that disease had not yet been eradicated there.  I had earned a Regents diploma and a Seventh Day Baptist denominational scholarship for college, but learned, in late August I believe, that some of the money I had counted on to live on while in Japan.  So I chickened out and decided to take a leave of absence, in order to earn money and then continue my studies.  But I could only find part-time work in Alfred and, although I had gotten engaged to Tracey Saxton, I decided to move to Myrtle Beach in order to work under Tim Alderfer as a Process Engineering Technician at AVX Ceramics.  The rest is, as they say, what happens to you when you are busy making other plans.  But what happened after that will be the subject of another post.  I told you all of THAT, so I could tell you THIS:
On December 24th of this year, after waiting forty-two years, I am finally going to fly to Japan!  Valarie is going, too, and we are traveling with -- among others -- one of the Biology faculty at Alfred University where I work, whose husband takes a Digital Animation class to Japan every year.  I am boning up on the Japanese I learned when I finally returned to Alfred University to finish my degree, and am researching what I can do while in Japan, to finally attempt to answer the questions I had intended to ask, back in 1977.

A Musing upon Pennsic XL, August 2011

To travel far from home for to make war.

To make camp with strangers soon to be brothers and sisters.

To waken to a warrior’s call.

To put on armor which could save your life, and take up arms which may take life from those who oppose you.

To march toward a place of battle, exultant in hope of victory, not knowing what may come to pass.

To assemble on a field of battle and wonder what fate awaits you.

To ponder whether any living is left to you.

To consider the fate of your child and your loving wife, in your absence.

To gaze across an open place and see many massed against you and your comrades, and wonder how your fates will be met.

To mass shoulder to shoulder with new companions and hope to preserve at least one of their lives.

To hasten, and to wait.

To hear the call to battle, and look out upon the place where so many will meet in conflict.

To run toward an uncertain fate, keeping pace, listening for orders, observing the fluid motion of masses of warriors moving to take the best advantage.

To hear warriors’ yells and the crash of weapons all about you.

To see your comrades fall and move to take their place, swinging your weapon and shielding yourself from enemy blows.

To feel your racing heart and the heat of your own exertions, coupled with the mid-day heat.

To rest, but only briefly, wanting only to hurry back to find your brothers in arms.

To gaze out again upon the remains of your army and the one it opposes, and wonder, again, how the battle may end.

To crash headlong, again, into the thick of fighting.

To see blows coming, and feel the one which ends the battle for you.

To fall among the ranks and lie on the ground, waiting for the end.

To hear the cheers when victory is won.

To return to camp after a hard-fought battle, and shed your armor.

To drink and eat and share tales of loss and victory.

To miss one’s common life with a physical pain, yet hardly remember its comforts.

To finally journey toward home, and find that it seems a new and strange place, though thoroughly familiar.

To have spent many days on a plain without shade, and finally find oneself among the hills of home.

To arrive in cool woods in a mountain retreat, and know the calming refreshment they grant.

For a woodsman, to have fought a battle in a forest, but not remember what manner of trees sheltered him is a sad thing, for there was not time to consider even a lily.

The warrior’s heart must be one of exaltation and of deep sorrow. Perhaps the warrior's heart loves peace as does no other.

Obituaries for our great-great-grandparents, Sam and Chloe (Sherman) Stillman

"The Sabbath Recorder", Vol 38, No 27, p 27, July 6, 1882.
In the town of Alfred, Allegany county, N. Y., July 1, 1882, Mrs. Chloe Sherman Stillman, daughter of George Sherman, deceased, of Alfred, and wife of Samuel N. Stillman, aged 65 years. She was born in Norway, Herkimer Co., N. Y., in 1817; married there in 1835, and came to Alfred in 1837. She became a Christian in Norway in 1835, embraced the Sabbath there, was baptized by Eld. Eli S. Bailey, and received into the Seventh Day Baptist Church then existing in Newport, in that vicinity.
Soon after removing to Alfred, she, with her husband, united with the First Alfred Church, where, until the day of her death, she has been known and loved as a faithful and exemplary Christian. We shall miss her much; but our loss is her eternal gain. She has been sick since the 1st of April, but patient and resigned. She has left one son, four daughters, her husband, and a wide circle of relatives and friends in sorrow, but not without hope that they shall meet again, safe in the kingdom of God. C. M. L.

"The Sabbath Recorder", Vol 53, No 52, p 820, Dec. 27, 1897.
Samuel Newberry Stillman was born in Newport, Herkimer County, N. Y., June 27, 1812, and died at his home in Alfred, N. Y., Sabbath-day, Dec. 18, 1897, aged 85 years, 5 months, and 21 days. He was the son of Ezra and Polly Stillman, and the second of ten children, of whom two survive him - a brother living in Brookfield, and a sister (Mrs. Nancy Frank) living at Alfred Station. In 1835 he married Miss Chloe Sherman, and to them were born two sons and five daughters. A son and daughter having died some years ago, he is survived by his son Alonzo and his daughters, Madelia, Clotilda, Mrs. John F. Langworthy, and Mrs. Ophelia Clarke of Nile.
In February, 1837, he removed to Alfred, bringing his family and household goods on a sleigh; here he bought a farm, cleared it up, and continued in the business of farming until his death. He enjoyed a happy married life until July 1, 1882, when his beloved companion was taken from him by death. As a father he was wise in the government of his household and in the training of his children, bringing up his whole family to become industrious, thrifty and highly respected members of society.
As a citizen and neighbor he was highly esteemed and beloved. His example and influence have always been healthful. His life was in strict accord with the Golden Rule. He was a man of public spirit, always ready to help on any good work for the benefit of the village and the welfare of those around him. He was deeply interested in Alfred University, for many years an active member of its Board of Trustees, and contributed several thousand dollars to its financial support.
As a Christian he was exemplary; brought up a Seventh-day Baptist; at the age of 21 years he experienced a change of heart and joined the Newport church - being baptized by Elder Eli S. Bailey. On removal to Alfred he joined the church here by letter and remained to the day of his death a consistent and worthy member. He was an industrious man, never eating the bread of idleness; and, as God prospered him, he was a cheerful and most liberal giver, and brought up his family to the same spirit of liberal beneficence.
In character he was transparent, genuine, without guile. He loved his fellow-men, and sought in all his life to glorify his God and Saviour whom he loved with a true and whole heart. The secret of his life is found in his devotion to secret prayer and the daily reading of God's Word, and his custom of daily family worship in his home. He loved the covenant meetings of the church and would often manifest deep emotion while telling of God's goodness to him and the joy he experienced in the Christian life.
Although he could hear scarcely one word of the sermon, he was generally in his place in the sanctuary. When he remained at home on Sabbath morning he spent the time reading the Bible or one of Dr. Talmage's sermons. When the family left him last Sabbath morning he was seated near the stove with paper in hand containing Dr. Talmage's last sermon. He was well as usual. When they returned, the paper had fallen to the floor, and he sat in the chair as though asleep. He was asleep, "Asleep in Jesus." His spirit had taken its flight without a struggle as it left the tenement of clay.
He will be missed in the home, the community, the church; but he has left a memory which is as an ointment poured forth. "Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright; for the end of that man is peace."
Funeral services were held at the church on Tuesday, Dec. 21, conducted by Pastor Gamble assisted by Pres. Davis, and the remains were laid to rest in Alfred Rural Cemetery, to await the resurrection of the just. J. L. G.

A long-time reunion

An unusual reunion happened yesterday (June 13, 2011). Our cousin, Eleanor Grotjahn, who was here visiting, met William MacCrea for the second time, only sixty-five years after their first meeting. Eleanor had brought with her, her letter to her parents, describing that meeting. She visited the place while in Alfred in 1946, because the Clarkes (ours and Eleanor's ancestors) had sold the farm where William's son's family now lives, only two years before that first meeting. Eleanor wrote to her parents on April 11, 1946:
"Aunt Agnes [my grandmother] and I then went over to the grocery store to do the shopping for her nutrition class the next day. I soon had to scamper to meet Christine [another Clarke cousin, who worked at Alfred University Alumni Office] at 12:00.
Her car made it much more easily than the [Agnes and Ahva Bond's] Buick and we were soon turning into the driveway of the old farm. Just as we drove in, a woman came out the back door carrying a pail, so I approached her and explained who I am. “Oh yes”, she said, “I bought this place from Chester Clarke, who’s out in Oregon”. I corrected her on both counts, and she invited Christine, who had gotten out of the car by this time, and myself to come in. [Our grandfather Chester had died in 1925, and his son had sold it to her, and he was in Washington state]
The place isn’t in very good shape. The woman (whose name I’ve forgotten but Uncle Clarence should know) is living there practically all alone. Not quite, though – for there’s an old bearded man (who is or has been on relief) and her great-grandson [William MacCrea], who’s a boy in junior high school. (Looking back on it, “great-grandson” seems almost incredible, as if he must be her grandson instead, but I’m pretty sure it’s her great-grandson).
She and the old man are trying to patch things up, but have run up against that lumber shortage you’ve heard about. She has been unable to buy any lath for plastering or any lumber to patch up a number of small gaps in the – some only 6 or 8 inches long. Someone must have torn them out for some purpose and not have done a very good job of replacement.
Mrs. “X” insisted on our seeing every room in the house, although Christine only had a limited amount of time to spend. It’s certainly a big house: we couldn’t guess what the room which seemed to be the largest might have been in the old days – but Aunt Agnes later said that was the kitchen (facing down the hill). The place needs re-flooring, the front porch sags. We also saw the big room in the attic, which Laura or Mrs. B later told me was the cheese-room.
Mrs. “X” has fixed up the well and has running water in the house, has rebuilt the side porch (alongside the old kitchen), and there’s gas in the house."
The older photograph of the house is one which the MacCrea's have, and it dates from the period of the first meeting between William and Eleanor. William is in the foreground of that picture.

Cousins from far and wide

Hello siblings, son, spouse, nephews and nieces,

I was visited recently (April 3rd) by our cousins, Shirley Reslink Wright Earls, and her brother, Paul Reslink. Sherm got to meet them, also. They are niece and nephew of Myron Elwood "Mike" Kenyon, who was our grandmother Agnes Kenyon Clarke Bond's first cousin. Someone else can do the (genealogical) math. and tell us what level of cousins we are to them. In any case, we enjoyed a meal at the Collegiate, where they wanted to see the montage of pictures of "Mike" and where I reminded John Ninos to find and hang the little plaque that always hung at the end of the counter, declaring that the last seat was "Mike's spot". Sherm had to wander on, but I took our cousins to the Alfred Rural Cemetery to see "Mike's" grave and his wife, who they called "Aunt Trude" as well as those of their grandparents. They didn't stay long, but we enjoyed talking about connections and so on. I just wanted you to know, and you can also connect with Shirley on Facebook, as she is among my Facebook friends now.

I've also been contacted by our father's cousin's son, Douglas Grotjahn, about coming to Alfred June 7 to 14, in honor of his mother's (Eleanor Grotjahn) birthday. Doug will come with Eleanor and his sister, Bonnie is also coming from England, where she is involved with a Quaker meeting near Bath. No specific celebrations have been mentioned, but Eleanor would like to have me take her kids to the cemetery and see the old homesteads and so on. She will bring the old family daguerreotypes she possesses and any other things that will fit in her suitcase. She already has given me a trunk with some fabrics in it, and a sword which belonged to our great-great grandfather Samuel Newberry Stillman, a straight-back chair he sat in as a child, and his pocket-knife. I would love to have some of the other cousins come and meet her and her "kids", as we may not get another chance, at least with her.

Please let me know if you'd be able to come and spend some time at Alfred during the time they'll be here, and share any other thoughts you may have.

A bit of rhyme

A flat tire needn't be cause for much care,
when one has a spare.
So too if in the middle of nowhere,
if the spare holds enough air.
But a flat tire on a road with no shoulders,
and a spare that carries no air,
could mean hauling a spare with one's "holders"
if not for a stranger to care.
So to Chuck and Diane
from down York County way
I wave my hand,
and drive on my way
with thanks in my heart
for the goodness of people who start
to middles of nowhere each day.

Messages from a cousin of ours

Message from Eleanor Grotjahn, July 5, 2010

Hey, Doug! I just ran across a note from Christine, dated June, 1978, from Pasadena, CA. She commented on the visit she'd once made to see my mom, in the Bothell days, but probably was responding to some earlier family question of mine. I quote:"I couldn't remember Grandfather Clarke's name. I visited my youngest brother Maxson, in San Marcos recently, and he had this information from Mary--Chester Sterman (?) [but we know that's not right!} married Ophelia Stillman." She goes on: "I remember him speaking to me in front of Grandmother Clarke's house in Alfred and being told by my family to stay indoors! He used to write me and send poems." Could he have been considered a possible child-abuser???

At the time she wrote, she was getting ready to head for a visit to her daughter's home in Westboro, MA: Dan and Mary Anne Button, with a son Daniel , who had just graduated from Cornell, was about to get married, and then attend MIT.

Just thought it might have some interest for you. Cheers, Eleanor

Message from Eleanor Elder Grotjahn, from June 12, 2010

Hi, Doug, Thanks for your response to my recent query. Yes, I have a copy of that book, but it wasn't until last evening that I took your suggestion. Son Doug had jotted down that Henry's middle name was Brown, which was of great help, and if I had read more closely the print-out I'd made on the Clark Museum, I would have seen that for myself. So there he is, on p. 157 (#244). Doug got to work figuring out what the connection might be between Chester Smedley and Henry Brown. Doug believes the common ancestor to have been Joshua, which would have made them something-or-other cousins, I guess.

At the time Doug was visiting in Chicago, and had asked the museum curator for info, she'd gotten quite intrigued by the whole idea his question raised. He picked out about 10 pages of particular interest, and took off for Kinko's (at 10:00 p,m, last night) to photo-copy to send this gal.

Email addresses you're interested in:

Douglas Grotjahn: grotjahn@sundown.sdsu.edu
Bonnie bgrotjahn@googlemail.com

During this past week, I had the pleasure of Doug's company; his trip north was actually my "Christmas gift" from last year, but it had taken him this long to figure out how to fit it into his busy schedule. He travels out and about a bit, giving presentations at various colleges (for ex., Marquette, and U of Ill-Chicago)
That trip was last month. Then he's collaborating in a couple of projects, one with a friend at the U. of Pittsburgh Med. School (they communicate via weekly telephone conferences, Doug, on one end, and his friend + his lab group on the other). This week's conf. lasted three hours!

Another project is with an oncologist at the UC San Diego who's trying to develop a vaccine for cancer. Doug's specialty seems to be catalysts--developing something that will work with what those other guys are working on, to produce desired results. Suppose there's a Nobel-prizewinner in there somewhere?

Doug's visit also brought me the good news that Bonnie will be coming to Bvue in mid-August for her 25th high-school reunion. (AOL had me all screwed up, and B's emails to me weren't getting thru, so Doug had to forward to me what she'd sent him. All cleared up now, though I am so pleased she's able to come. (The big stumbling block for awhile was the much higher airfare of this summer., but she's somehow bitten the bullet, and is able to work it out.)

Summer seems finally to be slowly working its way here. Highs in the 70's today--which is good.

Enuf already. My regards to your family. Eleanor

Dad gets inducted

http://www.aacs.wnyric.org/alumni/AAalumninewsFINAL2010.pdf


















Our Father would perhaps be embarrassed by all this attention. But he would enjoy talking with so many friends, if he were here tonight.

Our Dad was raised by a single mother (and grandparents) during the Great Depression, so he started out learning how to get along with very little for himself. His life ended in an age when many people are accustomed to getting most any thing their hearts desire – at least material things.

When asked what he wanted, Dad’s answer was always an accommodation to what the other person wanted. This was sometimes annoying to some of his children. Perhaps it was annoying even to his two wives (they were serial, not concurrent, wives, for those who were wondering).

Dad spent his life helping people of all sorts, sometimes when his family felt they needed him more than other people did.

When Dad was not able to do much for other people anymore, life lost some of its interest for him. When taking care of his own needs became a challenge, Dad just didn’t quite know how to deal with others taking care of him. So his leaving this life was probably well-timed, but still unexpected and sad for us. His was a life well-lived.

We sincerely hope that this tribute to our father will be an inspiration to others, for years to come.

Thank you. (GDC)

sacred and profane, art and life, ecumenicalism

This video is specifically about a particular man's death. He was active in the NYC arts scene and affiliated with Judson Memorial Church which sits on the South side of Washington Square, just a few blocks from my apartment in the city and the library. Dad enjoyed the work of Al Carmines, a 1960s preacher there, as I did. Carmines did a musical based on the work of Gertrude Stein that Dorothy and I went to with our friend Richard. It was playing further West in the Village, what is today called the West Village. This isn't a short video by YouTube standards but about half way through, the preacher starts giving the sermon that he'd intended to do until Kontoukos died. It's that part especially that makes me think of Dad, particularly of the ritual we had that he said of "this is the most ecumenical service I've ever been to." And if I remember right, it was all because Ian said that we should do a ritual.

P.S. Sorry about so many uses of "specific" and "particular" and derivatives therefrom.

the carillon rings for spring ... and for mom

Wednesday was Dad's birthday. Doug and I had lunch at Texas Hot in Wellsville and cracked our coffee cups together in Dad's honor. Clinking cocktail glasses wouldn't have been nearly as appropriate. And today was Mom's day.

I had a late lunch or early supper and, after doing the dishes and feeling rather stuffed, I decided to go out for a walk around the Pine Hill subdivision. As I walked, I became aware that the carillon was playing -- the first time this year, I think. The warm temperature must have made it warm enough to be at the keyboard. I was only going to go for half of my normal path, just around the Pine Hill subdivision, but continued around Fraternity Row. The bench below the carillon was in the sun so I slipped and slided up to it and sat as the sun set. No clouds so it was just a golden glow, not a dynamic crash of color. The carillon was so evocative of Mom and her love of the carillon. I know Dad and Gram, and probably other relatives, really loved the carillon but I associate it mostly with Mom.

After the sun set, it got chillier pretty quickly. I stayed for another work or two or three or four but then continued my walk home. I can hear it from the house but not so compellingly as right under it. It was really wonderful.

Being in Alfred is mostly a quiet remembrance for me. Most of the memories of places and people are general but then there's a moment like this one. I think Doug is getting so that it's easier to be in the house as my presence begins to make itself known.

Oops, the seven o'clock chime just rang in Gram/Aunt Dora's clock. Time for the Barbara Walters pre-Oscar special. I don't watch much TV but I think I'll do the Oscars.

goulash

A little more Mom today. I just made goulash in Mom's fry pan and cooked the macaroni in her saucepan. I probably put more red pepper flakes in it than she wanted but she just smiled and had another bite. After all, it was free and she doesn't have to worry about chloresterol anymore. (That's weird; the spellchecker doesn't like "chloresterol" so I checked myself.)

bookending the day with thoughts of Mom

Most days, I go for a walk and my usual path is the loop up around Pine Hill Drive and Fraternity Row. Sometimes my path is clockwise and sometimes counter-clockwise. I occasionally meet Elizabeth Gulacsy who lives on Pine Hill Drive and goes for early morning walks with her dog Duna (Danube, in Hungarian). Since the Uni-Mart was out of unfiltered Camels, I thought I'd take this morning's walk down to the Mobil to see if they could supply my habit.

We were getting a beautiful snow shower as I started out on my walk to the Mobil. There were spots of sunshine, especially beautiful on the northern hills as I passed the Alfred State horticulture facility. The Mobil did have my cigarettes and as I passed the road up into the cemetery, it beckoned me. I walked in to Mom and Dad's gravestone and thought of them, and Uncle K and Aunt Ahvy and many others who are memorialized there. Our folks and K and Ahv so nicely surround Aunt Roberta. It wasn't particularly heavy or solemn but more like comforting to have the spirits with me.

The day progressed rather like many: a couple errands, a visit to the Box of Books, a visit to the campus store to pick up my Times, email, an hour of ARTstor cataloging, other online work.

Just as I was about ready to get something to eat for supper, Doug stopped by to say he was going to fetch someone to look at the old fridge out behind the garage. I don't know how that went but I fixed some food and then did the dishes. Mom could never understand how many suds I used. I still haven't figured out quite the right amount and I was rather drowning in suds. Well, not really drowning but there were still plenty when the last plastics had been washed for recycling. Since I rinse my dishes as I use them and then do the dishes every few days, there aren't a lot of them with lots of detritus for washing. Oh, well, it was probably Mom's thriftiness more than a sense of green but it doesn't matter.

I am glad to report that I am not haunted by morose thoughts as I meander around the house and the village.

As I contemplated sharing these thoughts about starting and ending the day with thoughts of Mom, I realized that the 14th of October was drawing toward a close and tomorrow would be her 80th birthday. So happy birthday, Mom, and best wishes to all of us.

It's been a while . . .

It has been a while since any of us posted anything here, but now there are fewer excuses NOT to do so. Sherm and I traveled to Queensbury (I almost started to type "Stephentown" even now) a week and a half ago, and took Bert's new MacBook to her. We installed Microsoft Office Suite and Firefox browser and an external back-up drive, and helped her choose and install a printer. She proved herself to be a quick learner on how to operate the new machines, which replace an old desktop that preferred to freeze, rather than operate effectively. We trust and hope that this will mean we'll be in more frequent contact, although I am calling more often than I used to, anyway. We trust she'll be able to stay in better touch with Mike and Sue, now that they've moved to Two Rivers, Alaska. We regret that we didn't get to see Kim and Brian, but hope to do so next time.
When I took Ian to Dr. Taggart, who has had several sessions with him since he was depressed last February, she handed me a letter she received from Jessie A. Hanes at Greater Binghamton Health Center , stating "Our Health Information Management Department received your request regarding the above-named individual [Chester Smedley Clarke]. We have made a thorough search in our State Archives and it appears that Mr. Clarke's records were destroyed by the Willard State Hospital. In the early 1900[s] there were no requirements that facilities save medical records. We are sorry we cannot be of more assistance at this time." This might seem to be the final word on the subject, but I notice that they list his date of birth as Unknown and Social Security Number as 10/23/1925, which was his date of death, so it's possible they missed something, however unlikely.
I was very concerned about our dog, Nicky, last week, as she seemed to be in a lot of pain, and initial concerns were regarding a relapse of whipworms for which she'd been treated when Mike and Sue passed through on their way north. Mention was also made of kidney or other problems, but now the best evidence suggests she just has arthritis, so we've begun treating her with steroids and "Glycoflex".
Ian went to his first school dance last Friday, and had a great time. He's also enjoyed medieval club fighting, and Science and English classes this year, although he continues to ask to be home-schooled. We're still looking into this, but don't know if it would be best for him, or not.
I could write more, but should probably get back to doing stuff around the house, so look for another installment later . . .

My first journey to Alabama

I learned last autumn from Tim Bancroft, that the Baptist History and Heritage Society was calling for papers on the subject of "Baptist Contributions to Social Justice." Tim's wife had presented a paper on women in ministry to their conference in 2005, and I'd been interested in presenting a paper to them, ever since.
I knew that Alfred had fostered the first truly coeducational institution on the continent, and its inhabitants had helped escaped slaves on their way to Canada and its women had voted before it was legal for them to do so. So I decided I would like to bring some more of this history to light, and sent in an abstract which was accepted shortly after that.
A couple months later, I attended a meeting of the Historic Preservation Roundtable of Allegany County. I mentioned that I was writing a paper and was interested in some anecdotal accounts of women in Alfred, voting before it was legal for them to do so, and one of the participants told me they remembered cataloging an item or two on the subject. I soon received two items in the mail, and this gave me enough information to go to the county Courthouse and find records of the voting incident(s) that had been legendary but unverified to that point.
I was able to come up with enough material to put together a paper that I presented in Huntsville, Alabama this past weekend, at the Society's conference. It was the first time I had been to Alabama, and it's the 44th state I've at least visited. While I was there, I made some new historian friends, who are researching such topics as abolitionism, Black Americans in the missionary field, Baptists in the Civil Rights Movement, and a Baptist ethicist who is promoting holistic sex-education, among other things. I met one fellow who had been to the only Seventh Day Baptist Church in Alabama AND to Buck's Pocket, which is where Jeanette's grandmother lived. On Friday afternoon I walked around the city, mostly in its historic districts, enjoying the varied architecture of all the houses. The First Baptist Church, where the sessions were held, is a huge complex that includes a carillon, a huge sanctuary with a large organ, and lots of classroom and a large informal assembly area downstairs, where we had a banquet meal.
I'll include the paper here:

A Familial Story:

Contributions of the First Seventh Day Baptist Church of Alfred, New York, to Social Justice


Presented to The Baptist History and Heritage Society
June 5, 2009


G. Douglas Clarke



I’ve called this paper “A Familial Story” because of the smallness of our denomination and because my own ancestors figure into the telling of this story, so I hope I’ll be forgiven for alluding to some of those connections as I tell it.
The website for this august organization states:

While theological differences contributed to the formation of a large number of Baptist groups, Seventh Day Baptists formed as a result of their Saturday worship practice. In America, the first Seventh Day Baptist Church formed in 1671, and nearly 100 years later, the group organized a national body, called the General Conference. Today, this group has ninety-eight churches with approximately 4,800 members.1

That isn’t many members compared to many denominations, but there is a saying among Seventh Day Baptists, that we “weigh more than we count” and I’ll try to live up to that today. It may be because of this unique genesis and the fact that we are small enough to be almost “tribal” that our denomination has encompassed a wider spectrum of beliefs and values than some other denominations have done.
I am sad to report that I believe that spectrum has narrowed in my lifetime, because diversity of views is healthy for progress in social justice. But I believe there is still reason for pride, and for hope. In any case, I am delighted to be here among other Baptists, telling you about one of our congregations – “my” church – today.
Seventh Day Baptists have contributed uniquely to social justice in part because we have had to defend our positions at times when other denominations were more comfortable, not being handicapped by smaller numbers and this “peculiar” practice of Sabbath-keeping.
There are perhaps many definitions we could use but, for the current purpose, let us say that contributing to social justice means working for the extension of rights to those who have not previously enjoyed them.
Seventh Day Baptists mixed with other Baptists at first, in Newport, Rhode Island, but after founding our first church there in the 1600s, they moved westward, as did other colonists. Seventh Day Baptists often moved in groups of families, knowing that they, by pioneering en masse, might prevail in a new location and not suffer so much from ridicule and discrimination, as they may have, previously. Some arrived on foot in Alfred, New York about 1812, carrying with them a dogged dedication to religious and personal liberty.
I should say here that there are actually two Seventh Day Baptist churches in the Alfred community, but I will be telling the story of the one in the village, known as the First Seventh Day Baptist Church of Alfred. The two sprang from the same root, but some of the early members moved quickly on to other places. Those who stayed, met in homes and schools for a dozen years, and then built a church that was, in the days of initial settlement, at the center of the community, but today would be half-way between the village of Alfred and the community known as Alfred Station, which lies in the northern portion of the larger township. A second church was founded in 1831 and built its building about a mile north of the original one, while the First Seventh Day Baptist Church of Alfred began building a new structure about a mile south of the original building, in 1853. The two have competed for members and resources at times, but cooperated in many endeavors, and serve the Alfred community independently.
Although the influence of Alfred’s Seventh Day Baptist Church has waned toward the end of its second century, it is still an essential part of the community and denomination. During most of its life, Seventh Day Baptists have constituted a numerical majority in the community, and its members have traveled in all directions in waves of migration and missionary work, while its institutions have educated and mentored pastors, teachers, farmers, and builders.
Early settlers in Alfred quickly built schools, and this is how Alfred came to be the “mother of churches” among Seventh Day Baptists: By not only promoting but practicing the idea that education was important for men and women, including those of European descent but also Native Americans and Blacks, even in its earliest years. And Alfred’s University educated young people for all vocations, not just for ministry. Students who attended the Theological School at Alfred University during its century of existence were employed in evangelical ministry in churches throughout western New York and Pennsylvania especially, and the nation, in general. So there were as many as 21 churches within a day’s drive of Alfred in 1910. 2
Until Alfred University’s former provost, Dr. Susan Strong, re-discovered it, Alfred’s unique, pioneering egalitarianism was not well known. In the process of writing her doctoral dissertation on co-education, she found that Alfred’s was the earliest institution in these United States to conduct education in which men and women were all permitted to write papers and to speak in public.3 Even though the college at Oberlin, Ohio was founded three years earlier, women were not permitted this right for a number of years after the school’s founding.
Alfred University was never officially Seventh Day Baptist, but its financial and other support was almost all from Seventh Day Baptist sources, from the time of its founding in 1836, until well into the Twentieth Century.
Alfred University’s first President, William C. Kenyon, had known many difficult days, having been an indentured orphan, himself. He was a hard task-master, according to his students, but he was so dedicated to his students that he was well loved. His every effort went into educating students so they might surpass the limitations that might otherwise be imposed on them, and his leadership started a trend which persisted for many years.
Later on, Frederick Douglass, a former slave who campaigned fervently for the abolition of slavery, came to Alfred more than once, and reported the following in 1851:
My anti-slavery tour in this county is completed. I have visited during my absence from home, ten towns . . . To say that I am gratified by my visit to Alleghany County, is but a feeble expression of my feelings. . . On Wednesday afternoon, I held an excellent meeting (the largest of the series) at Alfred Centre. There is here a flourishing Seminary, under the direction of Prof. [Wm. C.] Kenyon. This Seminary has students to the number of two hundred, about all of whom attended my meeting in the afternoon, the school being adjourned for the purpose. At the close of my lecture, such was the desire to hear further on the subject that I yielded to the request to speak in the Chapel [Alumni Hall] connected with the Academy in the evening, where again I had a full house. In Alfred I was most kindly and hospitably entertained by the Rev. Mr. [Nathan Vars] Hull, a Seventh-day Baptist minister. I found the people of this denomination generally anti-slavery in sentiment, and disposed to co-operate with me in my efforts to promote that sentiment through the country. The students at the Seminary nearly exhausted my box of books, and I came away feeling that I had left the good seed of anti-slavery sown in good ground. 4

The University’s second leader, Jonathan Allen, was first a student who paid his tuition in firewood, and rose to the presidency of the University and served as such for many years. He was active in the life of the church and the community as well as the school, and was highly revered.
One of the professors who taught during Allen’s time was Darwin Eldridge Maxson, who was described as follows:
[He was] An anti-slavery agitator, and reformer. In 1852, he became an instructor in Alfred University at Alfred, New York, where he soon made for himself a reputation as an anti-slavery propagandist. He was one of the most active agents of the so-called under-ground railroad, engaged in forwarding runaway slaves to Canada. His zeal as a reformer, and his superb qualities as a leader won for him his election, in 1859, to the Assembly of the Legislature of the State of New York, where he was conspicuous for his advocacy of personal liberty. In 1861, he enlisted in the Union Army, and became chaplain of his regiment. He was a prominent Seventh-day Baptist clergy-man, and for the last sixteen years of his life he was a Professor in the Theological Seminary at Alfred University. 5

The Sabbath Recorder, which is the denomination’s mouthpiece even today, was published in Alfred for many years. In 1869 the following article appeared:

On the 8th of February, the Assembly of Wisconsin passed, by a vote of 39 to 22, a bill submitting to a vote of the people of the State, at the November election of 1870, the question of extending the right of suffrage to females, with the same conditions as already prescribed for males. The bill was introduced by Mr. D. E. Maxson, who advocated it in a speech of an hour, which is outlined in a report of the Assembly’s proceedings, as follows: . . . He quoted Abbott’s History of the civil war and Bancroft’s History to show that the corner stone of our government, what exalted us above all other nations, was the doctrine that all mankind were endowed by nature with equal rights, claiming that if we ‘went back’ on that doctrine, and allowed the existence of aristocratic privileges before the law, one class would be proscribed to-day, another to-morrow, and our nation in time be destroyed. Then taking the principle of the Declaration of Independence, that governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed, he inquired as to the position of woman; . . . and then claimed for woman the right to the ballot, because, just as much as man, she was one of ‘the people,’ who ordained this government . . . 6

Maxson was the one who first proposed in 1858 that women be made voting members of the Alfred Seventh Day Baptist church. It took him and his supporters until 1874 to persuade enough of the men to gain a constitutional majority for the measure, but his persistence won the day.
Soon women were being ordained as deaconesses (including our great-great aunt), and later the women would take it upon themselves to organize into a Society, raise money, and build a social hall for the church. This building has housed dinners and receptions and Sabbath School classes and business meetings since 1906, and now the congregation worships there when the weather is cold (as a cost-saving measure), as does the Alfred Friends Meeting, and various civic groups. Since the 1970s the women’s thrift store, called “The Opportunity Shop,” has been housed upstairs, making used goods available at low cost, raising money for the benefit of the Women’s Society and the congregation, and fostering many relationships.
Experience Fitz Randolph obtained a Bachelor of Divinity degree from the Alfred Theological Seminary and was ordained in 1885. A biographer wrote that, at the time of Burdick's unexpected death in 1906: "Records show that she has conducted fifty weddings, ninety funerals, and ten years ago had preached eight hundred and ninety sermons.... At the time of her death she was pastor of the Seventh-day Baptist church at New Auburn, Wisconsin, where her work was very efficient and greatly appreciated by all who came under her influence." 7 Our father pastored that same church in the 1950s.
By the 1880s, some of the women in the Alfred Seventh Day Baptist Church began to feel that women should have the right to vote in general elections, not just in the church. So they simply went and voted. Let me read a newspaper account of one of these incidents:
The women at Alfred Centre asserted their rights yesterday and voted at the municipal election held at that place. Ten ballots were offered and received by the election officers who declared that the legal opinions gathered and published by counsel for the woman's suffrage party had convinced them of the legal right of women to vote. 8

Another account says:

The grand jury which finished its work at Belmont on Monday, among the other work, presented indictments against the women who voted in Alfred Centre, for illegal voting . . . The first named lady [Lucy Barber] is the one who voted in the election two years ago and who after swimming the gauntlet of the U. S. Commissioner was discharged and then failed of indictment before the grand jury last June which had her case under consideration. Her apparent success in this escaping punishment encouraged several of her sisters in the cause to follow in her footsteps, so they offered and swore in their votes at the recent corporation election held in Alfred Centre, to the number of ten . . . It is but just to remark that the ladies indicted embrace representatives of the very best of Alfred citizenship, and that they have got into this position from the belief that they were fully entitled to the privilege . . . 9

Now let me read a retrospective piece about Lucy:

Lucy [Barber] was an ardent suffragette. Those of us today who take voting so casually often do not realize what moral stamina it required to espouse the cause in the early days. Women who worked for the vote were reviled, put in jail, and made to look ludicrous by the most insulting cartoons. Alfred contained an ardent group of suffragettes, composed of faculty wives and the like; and they decided they were going to vote in the impending presidential election . . . they marched in a body to the polls and before the astounded men knew what was happening, they had snatched ballots, marked them, and stuffed them into the ballot boxes. The women were arrested and put in jail for illegal voting and disturbing the peace. Their husbands promptly bailed them out, all but Lucy Sweet Barber, who spent a night in the Alfred jail, and thus became a martyr to the cause . . . the women were taken to Belmont [the county seat] to stand trial. The court was filled with excited spectators. Everyone in Alfred who could possibly arrange it took a day off to see what was going to happen to the leading ladies of the community. But as the proceedings began, the judge ruled that before they could proceed with the trial, they must first prove that they were women. This so horrified the good men of Alfred that the charges were immediately dropped. The martyrdom of Lucy Sweet Barber reached the ears of the suffragettes in New York City, who felt that this brave woman should be recognized. They invited her to a banquet at the Waldorf Astoria to be given in her honor, would pay train fare, etc. Now as I said before, Lucy kept a farm. Her husband was a small ineffectual man and Lucy did the farm work, or most of it . . . This was considered an eccentricity or even worse in those days when it was immodest for a woman to show what she stood on, let alone what she sat on. But Lucy declined the invitation to New York saying that she had to stay home and do the chores. One can’t help but wonder what impact Lucy would have had on the New York suffragettes, let alone on the Waldorf Astoria. 10

Apparently the writer of that sketch mixed details of the two incidents, because the court records I recently found indicate that Lucy was tried and sentenced to one day in the county jail in 1887, so probably the legendary dropping of charges was in 1885, when only Lucy voted. 11
One of the women who voted with Lucy was none other than the wife of University President Jonathan Allen. In her obituary, it is said of Abigail Allen, that:
[she] was one of the pioneers in the state of New York for the advancement of the political rights of women, and counted among her intimate friends the leading spirits in this movement, Julia Ward Howe, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and others. At the reception given to Susan B. Anthony, at Washington, on her eightieth birthday, Mrs. Allen was by special invitation an honored guest . . . It is a striking fact that her old friend and fellow laborer in the cause of equal rights for women, Mrs. Elizabeth Cady Stanton, should have died on the same day with Mrs. Allen. 12

My checking of the membership rolls of the Alfred Seventh Day Baptist church establishes that probably eight of the ten women were members at the time of these voting incidents, and that the other two were from families having strong association with the church, at the very least. 13
For a time, Seventh Day Baptists in Alfred did prevail to the extent that not only most businesses, but even the two Post Offices in the town of Alfred were open on Sunday but not Saturday. They were apparently the only ones in the nation to do so, until the United States Postal Service demanded an end to the practice, about 1954. 14
During the 1960s and ‘70s, members of the Alfred Seventh Day Baptist Church and others in the area, led by my father and mother, worked at lifting up migrant workers who lived in virtual prison camps run by the owners of the region’s large produce farms. I recall my parents working with Quakers and others to raise funds and gather food, and set up a corporation which ran a center which offered services and shelter for migrant workers who were otherwise completely beholden to the farm owners. Called “Harvest Center,” it was a place where people could gather, get help obtaining public and other assistance, and gain a greater measure of independence. There were soul food dinners and other fund raisers in Alfred, and my parents helped put together Christmas baskets of food and gifts to be delivered to each migrant worker, every year, into the 1980s.
So these have been a few highlights of this one church in rural western New York. The Alfred Seventh Day Baptist congregation once numbered about 600, but is now about a dozen active local members, perhaps approximating its original size. But this habit of working for the good of others continues even in these days, when the women of the church, all of retirement age, continue to sort and sell used goods at minimal cost, for the benefit of Alfred’s residents, and to raise money to support the continuing work of the church. Not that the men of the church aren’t busy, too . . .
Rev. Patricia Bancroft, who presented her paper on Seventh Day Baptist women in ministry to this organization in 2005, has pastored the church at Alfred for eight years. Her husband, Dr. Tim Bancroft reviewed the church’s history and found – not surprisingly – that the church was most vigorous in its first hundred years, when it held some sort of revival every ten years or so.
Seventh Day Baptist churches – including the ones at Alfred – have traditionally been small and rural, and some have argued that this is why our denomination has never been much larger than its current size. Another contributor may be the fairly common practice, even in mission endeavors, of focusing on being of practical service to people in need, rather than on being purely evangelical. I found confirmation of this in the following excerpt from a presentation by a cousin of ours, about Rosa Palmborg, a Seventh Day Baptist Doctor who worked at several missionary endeavors in China between 1894 and 1940:
“. . . we often hear criticisms of the Bible-in-one-hand/ medical-help-in-the-other attitude of missionaries. I don’t think this was as true of the S[eventh] D[ay] B[aptist]s in general, as of some – certainly not of Dr. Palmborg herself. The Christian salvation message was extremely lowkey and more to be delivered by example than by exhortation. If you think I am wrong, study the records of the mission. Often only one member a year was received by baptism – this, I think speaks for itself – more was being given than was taken back.” 15

So it seems that this balance between evangelism and practical service is different in different times, which allows me to live in hope that a recent commitment from our regional Association to work to re-build this “mother of churches” will bear good fruit. There is even talk of further support coming from the denominational leadership, so it may be that Alfred may once again be able to put off its concern for survival, in favor of devoting its energies more toward furthering social justice.


Endnotes

1 Pamela Durso, http://www.baptisthistory.org/contissues/durso3.htm

2 William L. Burdick, “The Western Association” in Seventh Day Baptists in Europe and America Vol. II, (Plainfield, NJ: American Sabbath Tract Society, 1910), 732.

3 Susan Rumsey Strong, "'The Most Natural Way in the World:' Coeducation at Nineteenth-Century Alfred University." Ph.D. dissertation, University of Rochester, 1995.

4 Frederick Douglass, Frederick Douglass Paper Item #24291, October 16, 1851, Rochester, New York.

5 Corliss F. Randolph, "Representative Seventh Day Baptists,” The Sabbath Recorder, Vol. 64, Issue 26 (June 29, 1908): 815.

6 The Sabbath Recorder, Vol. 25, Issue 9, (February 25, 1869): 34.

7 A[bram]. H[erbert]. Lewis, "Rev. Perie R. Burdick," Sabbath Recorder Vol. 62, no. 50 (December 10, 1906): 793.

8 Author unknown, Wellsville Daily Reporter Oct 13, 1887, unknown page [clipping provided by Wellsville, New York historian].

9 Author unknown, Wellsville Daily Reporter October 25, 1887, unknown page [clipping provided by Wellsville, New York historian].

10 Helen Cottrell, “Alfred History – A Sketch,” (Alfred Historical Society Monograph #2, Feb. 7, 1968), 2.

11 Book Three, Sessions Minutes, Allegany County Court, Belmont New York: 511.

12 L[ester]. C. R[andolph]., Sabbath Recorder, Volume 58, No. 44 (Nov. 3, 1902): 692.

13 Ilou M. Sanford, First Alfred Seventh Day Baptist Church Membership Records (Janesville Wisconsin, Heritage Books, 1995), 1, 6, 29, 32, 40, 47, 55, 69, 75, 98.

14 Lyle Palmiter, interview by author, May 13, 2009.

15 Carol Burdick, “Written by Carol Burdick for the [Alfred] Historical Society,” March 1987, page 4.

How things might have been different . . .

I think all you siblings know that Mom had been dating and planned to marry a guy in Brookfield, but her Dad forbade it. She met Dad when she went away to college, but Mom and Dad occasionally checked to see what had become of Bob -- I have his name written down somewhere and will add it when I (re-)discover it.
Over the years I've learned a little more and a little more about Dad dating Peg Rase. I don't know when it was first intimated to me that they had dated, but I remember asking Dad about it. He confirmed that they had dated but didn't say much more. Then, last year, I was interviewing Peg for the Alfred Bicentennial oral history project, and I think it was in one of the preparatory sessions or after the formal interview was concluded, she told me that she and had had "been an item". and that if he hadn't gone off to Kansas to college and she hadn't gone to Albany Girls' Academy, they might have gotten married. We laughed about that, and I told her I had always felt warmly toward her. She reiterated something she has said to us more than once: that we are like family. It puts a twist at the corner of my mouth, a plaintive smile on my face, to think of Dad and her in their youth, growing up together. Then I reflect on the years I spent growing up with Dan and Peg's son, Jere, and the closeness we have sometimes shared, and I think of how I enjoy Peg's reminiscences and Dan's practical wisdom and his joking with Ian. It is a delight to think of all this, as I am just about to take Ian to their old house so he can help Dan get some yard-work done. He has taken Ian under his wing like a grandson, more than once, so to know the truth that had been hidden for so many years, is like the closing of a large circle of relationship. It is a delight.

A Special Day, a Special Dad

A few days ago, I had found a message on the answering machine at 33 South Main, from a Social Worker at a Nursing facility in Bath, NY. She said she was looking for David Clarke, so I called her back, and when we finally connected it was yesterday. She told me she had been trying to figure out who he was and why he held a medical proxy for a patient. I said I was sure she was talking about Mary Shedrick, although she had avoided giving a name. So I explained how Dad and Mom had been involved in trying to assist migrant workers and all that Dad had done for Mary and her family. She said Mary's son from Florida had visited recently, and I guessed at his name (Sherlock), which she wasn't certain of, but thought I was correct. I said she had my permission to give our phone number to him if he was interested in learning about Dad. She thanked me.
When I was over at the homestead on South Main yesterday, I was having a hard time being there without feeling that lost feeling that he's gone for good. I have my memories and have a sense of his spirit with me most of the time, but although I'm not struck with abject sadness so frequently, it is still difficult for me.
This morning I had updated my Facebook status to say that today would have been Dad's 90th birthday and that I missed him again. A friend responded by saying Dad was a cool guy and that I had not turned out too bad, either.
So I called the Doctor's office this morning to see if they'd ever gotten Great-grandpa Chester's Willard records from Binghamton or Albany. They're going to check and find out.
At church this past weekend, I told people that I wanted to plant trees in the Alfred Cemetery, as many of the present ones are old and several have come down in the past few years. I told them I'd hate for someone in 50 years to look around and have no trees in that beautiful place. Later, Jennifer Breeze Schultze called to tell me she'd like to help in that effort. I said I would like to not limit tree-planting to the cemetery, and she thought that was good, but we agreed it was a good place to start. Her former landlord, Henry Bauer, used to plant trees for people, and he had gone from being a really nice guy to one who was kind of scary. He finally took his own life late last year, and it was hard for her to feel good about him, but she said she didn't want his young child to think his Dad was a jerk who everyone hated, so planting trees would be a good way to help her and the child, to have a more positive view. I think Dad would approve.
Happy Birthday, Dad.

Another letter requesting Chester's records

Since Carol's Doctor's request for great-grandfather Chester Clarke's Willard Hospital records received a negative response (I think they didn't receive or read the right information, in looking for his record), my nurse practitioner has sent the following letter:

JMH Medical Practice
28 Church Street
Alfred, New York 14802
607-587-8143
607-587-9175 fax

Binghamton Psychiatric Center
425 Robinson Street
Binghamton, NY 13904

September 10, 2008

To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing this letter in request of copies of medical records for Chester Smedley Clarke (DOB July 15, 1849). Chester Smedley Clarke is the great-grandfather of a patient of mine, George Douglas Clarke (DOB 11/20/1957).

Per the information that was able to be accessed from the Allegany County court records, Chester was committed to the Willard State Hospital on or about July 8, 1904.

Do to the unknown nature of Chester’s commitment to the Willard State Hospital I would like to inquire into his medical records, so that if there is an underlying hereditary predilection that I may document that in my patient’s chart.

It is stated, per the Allegany County records of the Superior Court “in the matter of Clarke, Chester S.”: “At a special term of Superior Court held at the Court House in the city of Rochester New York… on the 20th day of May, 1905, present Hon. Nathaniel Foote, Justice… in the matter of the appointment of a Committee of the person and estate of Chester S. Clare [sic] an alleged incompetent person and an inmate of the Willard State Hospital, on reading and filling the petition of Robert M. Elliott, Superintendent of the Willard State Hospital… duly verified on the 6th day of April, 1905, asking for the appointment of a committee… the said Chester S. Clark was duly committed to said Hospital as an incompetent on the 5th day of July, 1904 admitted thereto on the 8th day of July, 1904, and is now an inmate… at the time of commitment was a resident of the town of Alfred, State of New York…”

A second record, “At a special term of the Supreme Court held at the Court House in the Village of Belmont, NY… on the third day of September 1907, Present, Hon. Truman C. White, justice presiding… in the matter of Chester S. Clarke, an incompetent person upon the coming in of the Referee’s report in this proceeding, dated the 18th day of July 1907, by which it appears that the said Chester S. Clarke has so far recovered his mental capacity as to be capable of managing his person and affairs and that there is not any longer a necessity for a committee of his person and property…”

My patient, George Douglas Clarke has stated that the only information he knows of his great-grandfather is that Chester had little or no contact with his family from 1904 to the date of his death which was on the 23rd day of October, 1925 in Binghamton. And, that the reason for Chester’s committal to the State Hospital was not talked of by anyone in his family all the way back to his great-grandmother, Agnes K.C. Bond.

I appreciate your assistance in this matter, and hope that I will hear from you soon.


Sincerely,



Sherry S Herdman, MS FNP CDE

Ordination Testimony

NOTE: You should know that I chose a tune called "Stepping Stones" to be played as part of the ordination ceremony. Several people remarked that it was quite moving. I'll post the lyrics at the end of my "testimony". You can sample Dougie MacLean's music at http://www.cduniverse.com/search/xx/music/pid/1187972/a/Riof.htm

Ordination Testimony

Anyone who knows me knows that giving me 10 minutes and a microphone is a dangerous proposition. You know you’re going to hear some history. So let me just apologize right now and get it out of the way.

My ancestors first began to come to Allegany County in the 1820s and 30s. They were farmers and teachers who worked hard to build churches that would nurture future generations in the way that Christ called us to walk. They built each other’s homes, and met in homes until they were able to build churches and schools for their growing communities. They believed that all their children should go to school and learn, so they could all build good lives for themselves, and for their children.

Please permit me to drop a few names, but I’ll try to be brief:

Our great-great-great-great-grandfather, Captain Benjamin Maxson, brought his children to Little Genesee in November of 1827, and helped build the old church that stood until only a few years ago, when it burned. His grand-daughter Mary, moved to Alfred when her husband helped build the home on South Main Street that we all call “33”. Great-great-great-grandfather George Sherman and his family came to Alfred in 1836, and created the farm where the Actons now live. His son-in-law, Samuel Stillman, created the farm where the MacCreas now live, and his children gave money they’d earned by selling milk and cheese, to put a clock in the Firemens’ Hall. They gave money in their father’s memory to provide scholarships for young men and women to attend Alfred University. Our great-grandfather, A.B. Kenyon, came as a student intending to return to his home in Rhode Island after he earned his degree, but stayed here instead. He taught mathematics and surveying, and was Registrar and Dean of Alfred University. He designed and directed the building of what is now Camp Harley Sutton’s Burdick Lodge, which was the University’s first gymnasium before it was moved to the camp. My grandfather, Ford S. Clarke, taught Sociology at the University, and was the first Scoutmaster of Troop 19. My grandmother taught Home Economics at what later became Alfred State College. My father, as you probably know, pastored five churches and led the Missionary and Christian Education boards of the denomination. These are my stepping-stones.

I can still recall the restlessness I felt when I was younger than our son is now, at being required to come to church, when I would rather have been running around outside. I’m certain I was the first and only little boy to ever feel those things, of course.

I can remember crawling under the pews, and playing “HangMan” in the back pew. I remember the triumph of discovering words like “Czechoslovakia”, which won the game for me until my opponents learned them. I remember hating having to wear a suit and tie to church. I rankled at not being permitted to watch television from Friday evening until Sabbath evening. But it was black and white back then, anyway – not “living color” and high definition. It was Edward R. Murrow, and Walter Cronkite, and Fess Parker, and the world was quite different.

I remember my impatience with such things, but I also remember having a sense that what Mom and Dad and others were trying to tell me were things to which I should pay attention. I don’t think I was ever a really bad kid, but there were things I’d been told not to do, that got done, anyway. The admonitions and instruction must have begun to sink in, however.

I remember sitting in Sabbath School classes with Bill Parry as teacher, and how his calm and gentle manner invited me to listen and to speak, as few others could. One day I drew a sketch of him that I treasure because, when I look at it, it can still take me back to those days, and to the calm assurance he conveyed to us. The stories of Jesus’ life were the ones that touched me most deeply. It was that personal connection, of trying to imagine what his life was like, that drew me in.

I remember looking forward to being permitted to take the communion bread and juice, after I asked to be baptized and made a member of the church. I remember sitting in the Tower Room of the Parish House with my father and Jere Rase and Eric Van Horn, to discuss the little orange book on church membership, which we all had to conquer before we were permitted to take the leap of baptism.

I still remember my father “dunking” me and Jere and Eric in the baptismal pool, right here, thirty-nine years ago I reckon it was. I remember the joy I felt at getting there.

I participated in the Junior Choir and finally graduated to the Senior Choir, when my voice stopped croaking and CHANGED. I wanted to be an usher so I could walk in rhythm with the three other ushers, and show that I could collect the offering as well as the older men. Synchronized walking, it was. I took interest and pride in coming to business meetings and participating in the discussion, and in being able to VOTE, like a grown-up. I still didn’t like to wear a suit, though.

I remember our father asking me to lead the “Friendly Forum” Sabbath School class for a time. Here I was in my late teens, being asked to lead a Bible Study and discussion, in a room of white-haired men and women. I remember my nervousness – and perhaps intimidation – that was so quickly followed by delight at finding those elders eager to discuss things, without answers already arrived at. I was absolutely swollen with pride when I was complimented afterward, for having led interesting and fruitful discussions.

After two years of college, I tried to earn enough money to return to college and go overseas, but as anyone who has tried to make a living in Allegany County knows, it hasn’t ever been easy. A friend helped me get a job in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, so I left all my family and other friends behind, and spent nearly a decade there, working and still trying to finish my degree. For those years, I was a lone Sabbathkeeper until I married Jeanette. This church had its share of upheavals in my absence, and I remember my parents’ letters describing their anguish at all of that. When I started dating Jeanette, I told her I wanted to come home and look after my parents as they aged.

Jeanette decided she was amenable to that, so we were married in May of 1988 and moved to Alfred to live, three months later. For twenty years, now, we have been active in this church that nurtured me in my youth. We have endeavored to be part of this church’s rejuvenation, so that future generations will have the same anchor for their faith, which we have had.

In those twenty years, I’ve been Trustee, committee member, Treasurer, Assistant Treasurer, President, bell-ringer, usher, sound system technician, custodian, and repairman. I’ve led tours of the buildings for students and visitors, played guitar and sung hymns, and filled the pulpit when the pastor is absent. I’ve picked up beer bottles and scooped dog poop from the church lawn, and worried when windows got vandalized or lights got left on.

I’m not telling this to brag. Perhaps I’m admitting that I’m jack of all trades and master of none. But I’m really telling all this because these are the things that are so badly needed in a small church, and I’ve felt called to do them. I would rather be building something big and new if I could, and doing something more exciting, but this is a small, old church, and its survival depends on those few of us who are here now. It can’t be a hope for the future unless we are God’s hands and feet, here and now. What is happening here, right now, is affirmation of all that I’ve just told you.

I love this church, because it has stood for so many things that I believe Christ called us to stand for, no matter what the cost.

The people of this church believed in education, and its members gave all they had to build and maintain schools and have their children educated. This church supported the Theological School, which trained men and women to be pastors. We have one of the few Seventh Day Baptist pastors who happens to be a woman, today.

Darwin Maxson, who was a member here for many years, wrote articles for the Sabbath Recorder proclaiming that all men and women are children of God. His home was a station on the Underground Railroad that conveyed people to places where they might find equality of opportunity. Maxson presented an amendment to the church constitution on November 7, 1858, striking the word "male" from Article 3, thus opening the door to women becoming voting members. Women were invited to speak to the question but not vote, in February, and the vote was 22 to 12, in favor, but there were not enough to meet the constitutional requirement of 2/3 majority. The question was renewed in 1860, by Jonathan Allen, but was withdrawn. Finally, on the 24th of May, 1874, a motion put forward by O.D. Sherman did pass with only one dissenting vote. Three years later, a motion was made to allow women to be deaconesses. It was ten years after THAT (1889), that one of my great-grandmother's sisters, Madelia Stillman, was installed as one of the first deaconesses.

Our father also grew up in this church, and he remembered the cold, wintry day in 1929 when smoke began wafting up through the floor here, and he and all the other children were quickly but calmly ushered out of the building by Fritjoff Hildebrand. In fighting that fire which could have destroyed this building, all the stained-glass windows were destroyed by firefighters. It was a good thing that the donations given to replace them, were given in memory of this church’s human pillars, and plaques were put at the base of each window to remind us what they built for our benefit. I invite you to look at them when you have a chance. We have short biographies of those people, if you are interested.

I chose long ago to live as Christ would have me live, but with every year that has passed, I have come to appreciate each of the generations since Christ’s time, who have worked to find his truth, anew, in the living of their lives. I choose to live in that tradition, that faith that first called me so many years ago. My hope and prayer is to be a stepping stone for others. I trust that He who led those who came before, will continue to lead me, and us, as well.

G. Douglas Clarke September 6, 2008


Stepping Stones


So much time has gone
since we worked out in these open fields
With the hope of generations pulled around us
and a strength revealed
And so much has been done since we ran around the Snaigow wood
Never knowing where our gentle lights might lead us
Or indeed they could.

CHORUS:
And we do not stand alone
I know we stand with all the others
Out in the deep unknown
I know we stand upon their stepping stones

Sure and simple souls
guarded round us as we worldly grew
With nothing greater than what working days
might show them they gave us all they knew
And though their dreams were small
O their true and rural hearts were strong

And with an honest smile
that burns from somewhere distant
They helped us all along

CHORUS

And in these silent hours
when reflection lays our journey down
And we think on all departed conversations
It’s such an earthy sound

CHORUS

doug pride, growing, changing

Carol,
I am delighted that you could be at Doug's ordination and I'm so glad he shared his text. Perhaps he'll put it here too. Sometimes it feels like a downhill slide and sometimes it's really upness that one feels, climbing or no.

I just talked to the head of HR here in the libraries and she said the guy in the Provost's Office about has the details ready to send me the letter or form or whatever to shift from active duty (if you'll forgive a military analogy, if *I* will forgive a military analogy) to sabbatical on January 1st of 2009. Soon, I have an appointment with someone in central HR about details but sabbatical actually keeps things going more or less evenly for 2009 as far as benefits go. It's more in 2010 (if I should live so long) that I need to shift to retirement benefits.

Ever onward with love and peace....
Sherman

Passage/New stage of life

Dear readers, 

I was proud to represent the Clarke family at Doug's ordination on September sixth.  Mom and Dad would have been so proud!  (Some say they felt their spirits in the church.  I bet Mom was crying with a mother's pride.)  Doug's "testimony" (or whatever you call it) spoke of his upbringing in Alfred and in the First Alfred SDB church.  Guess what, surprise, surprise,  he included a bunch of history.  I learned a thing or two that I did not know about my "baby brother" and I know all of you would have too, for most of us were not there when he was growing up.  It was moving to see Pastor Ken Chroniger and others from the Alfred Station Church participate in the "laying on of hands".  I do not know all the names, so I will not try to list them.  It was an honor to have Pastor Camenga (chief of the Bd of Ed) speak from our pulpit.  Pastor Pat was "glowing" afterward as leader of the service.   In a way, this is a "coming of age" for Doug, a passage if you will.  I am glad that I was able to be there in person and wish everyone else could have been too.

Love you,

Carol