Guestbook Entry

As I am presently planning a return trip to "my roots", I wanted to visit the town website in order to update myself and to request a tour of the restored Clarkson Schoolhouse and the Clarkson Church. I spent many hours and days in both as a boy growing up at 8309 Ridge Road, two doors east of both. I went to school in Clarkson from 1950-1955 before moving on to the old High School (presently the Middle School) in Brockport for 6th grade, eventually graduating from BCS in 1962. I vividly remember tagging along with my father, Irving P. Clark Sr., as we would go back to the schoolhouse every evening to sweep the floors and stoke the old coal burning furnace for the next day of school. Our dog, a Doberman, eagerly awaited the daily journey to the schoolhouse as he was the recipient of many leftovers in the "tossed" lunches of the children. I remember Mrs. Garrison in first grade, Mrs. Brown in the second grade, and Mrs. Cunningham for! grades 3-5 in the upstairs of the building. I loved that old schoolhouse for all it provided me...from a closer relationship with Dad, to my introduction to education, to a "ride" on the rope of the old bell when I tried to ring it (with permission, of course...remember, those days were orderly and disciplined), to the smell of the oiled hardwood floors, to the screwed down wrought iron desks with ink wells, to the fire drills from the second floor down the old fire escape on the Funk's side of the building, to the old wind-up Regulator Clock in the hallway next to the main door, and the boys washroom where you had to bend a bit as it was located beneath the stairs to the second floor. I remember where I sat that first grade year in the row next to the windows facing east (and the old dog food plant) with Vic Avel in front of me and Helen Jones behind me. Helen and I would frequently have some "good tussles" seeking to become the spelling champ of the w! eek. We used to have recess every day (weather permitti ng) and either play baseball, tag (with the old ash pile acting as "home free"), or Fox and Geese in the snow. There was a year when "peashooters" became to youthful rage and everyone brought them to school to "blow" beans at each other on the playground, until, I am sure, some innocent bystander got hit with one near the eye and that ended another fleeting lucrative entrepreneurial moment, at least in our community. There are certainly a lot of good memories associated with that old building for so many that passed through that front door.

There are equal memories associated with the Clarkson Community Church....how Hiram and Thelma Chapman (and their 4 boys) became such an integral part of the community while ministering to its constituency (as well as the Murray Church), to the Friday Night Suppers and Mom's banana cake, to our own pew that seemed to always be there for us each week, to that special Easter morning Sunrise Service and the breakfast that followed.

I am now almost 65 years old and need to come "home" for a moment to pay respects to the graves of my parents and family members, to see old friends, to view the town as it now appears and the walk the walks that I used to make so frequently....just to relive old times for just a moment. It was a big and special part in my life, and I want to spend just a little more time there...revisiting.

Oh, yes,.....I always "toyed" with the idea that Clarkson was really named after me....the "son" of a Clark. It even gave me reason to believe it was even more special to me. (LOL)

From Clarkson, I went to college in Ohio and ended up staying there for 40 years. That education that began in Clarkson must have meant something to me (and Jack Milner, who lived across the street) as we both taught and then became school administrators. Quite a coincidence! My wife, Karen, and I have since shed the winter clothes for a warmer life by building a home in southeastern North Carolina. It is in a place called Ocean Ridge Plantation between Ocean Isle Beach and Sunset Beach. However, as lucky as we have been and as much as we love our "new life" here, the roots of our childhoods always will hold a very special place in our hearts.

Thank you for letting me share this "novel" with you!

Whit Clark
wwc27@aol.com
6613 Sidbury Lane
Ocean Isle Beach, NC 28469