Clayton and
Clyde Cripe were the second set of twins born to
Amos F. Cripe and
Mary Jane Schrock, they were the grandsons of
Yost and
Martha (Plank) Schrock.
Clayton Cripe Memories:
First I wish to say I heartily endorse this idea. Each of us can help to refresh one another's memories. Those memories are very refreshing when we reach the twilight of our lives.
My one outstanding impression, from my first recollection to the last of their home life, is that it was a well ordered life. In the home and the farm everything seemed to be shipshape. Everything indicated an enormous amount of work. The buildings and fences, orchards, garden and truck patches all showed the results of planning and labor. When we children were quite small Father and Mother were very busy, too, raising a bunch of 'bronchos' and carving out a home from land covered with trees and rocks. So we didn't go too often to grandpa's and I can't remember so much of real early life there. About once a year Bro.
Clyde and I would be permitted to go there from school and spend the night and then to school the next day.
These two distinct memories I have of grandmother. One was that she was afflicted with quinsy or asthma. Once, while there, she had to use something she burned and, with her head covered with a cloth, would inhale fumes to open her respiratory organ and breathing would be quite labored. And another time
Clyde and I walked there and picked cherries and in the evening she divided them. She used a measure and she would say ''des iss irra, des iss dirre' until they were all divided.
Grandfather was quite stern and very fastidious with his work and had a rare sense of humor. On one occasion he had wheat in the field east of the barn, south of the lane, and north end of the field didn't shock up very heavy. Father said they hauled out a few shocks so the rest could get some air. Another thing very vivid in my memory, was the two gates, one at the buildings and one out at the road, that could be opened and closed by driving over a twisted iron connected with rods to the gates.
The hedge fences that were nicely trimmed. The children in those days were not hauled to and from school, only on very stormy days. And they didn't have radio and TV to entertain them. They were taught to work so that they too went out and carved homes out of the wilderness.
Their life was not all physical labor. It was all interwoven with spirituality. When you to try to analyze it, their lives have contributed not just in the home or community but to the whole world, and it still goes on and their lives were monumental in comparison to many shallow lives. Of course, if we want to be critical we might find some inconsistency, but I'll confer it dwarfs my life when compared to theirs.
With great anticipation I'll be waiting to read all the good letters. A humble grandchild.
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Clyde Cripe Memories:
My earliest memories of my grandparents on my Mother's side were when my twin brother
Clayton, and
Ira Weaver went after school (at the jug handle school) to stay all night each school year. Of course, we were very hungry and had to have some of grandma's cookies (Grandma's cookies are always better).
I will never forget how grandfather, after going to bed, would pray a long time in German. Though we hardly understood a word we knew by the tone of his voice and his devout life that he was having communion with his Lord. The Bible was about the only reading material in evidence and he read from it's pages daily, especially after supper before retiring.
He was just as industrious as he was devout. His 160 acre farm was a model with fences and buildings always in good repair. There was never a weed, thistle or brush, except for a few hazel nuts, on either side of the fence. We kept 360 rods of hedge fence trimmed regularly as neat as most homes have shrubs in their front yards. This he continued to do until he sold the farm at a very advanced age. When grandmother died and he sold the farm he made his home with Ira Weaver's parents. My grandparents and their children, who reflected their Christian graces, were truly "the salt of the earth and the light of the world". My memory of them has been an anchor in times of trial and I consider such a heritage my greatest treasure.
Know anything about anyone mentioned in this post? Please contact me using the e-mail address to the right under my picture.
Mary Post Warren
© copyright 2011, all rights reserved, Mary Post Warren
