I’m Coming Back…

Life got a hold of me like a Kansas Storm, but I am coming back.

I've been a little busy, but I am coming back with lots of fun stuff!
I’ve been a little busy, but I am coming back with lots of fun stuff!

Writing is still my passion, and with my husband’s retirement, our life will shift again, and the plan is for me to write.

As a mother of 7 and now a grandmother of 15, life is what I know best… survival of life.

My heart in the near future is to share about…

Our business:  Welcome Home Girlfriend

Our home:  Decor and heirlooms

Our family:  Traditions

Our history:  Back to the 1600’s

Our dreams:  Never stop dreaming!

Our sorrows:  No life is without tribulation… it is what makes us strong

Our beloveds:  People that have influenced our lives

Our love:  Married almost 43 years and still love each other deeply

So if you followed us before, I am sorry I got ‘caught up’… and if you are new, please join in capturing life… “A moment in time” ~

Jubilee Vintage Shelf Paper ~ “Thank you, Grandma!”

My Grandmother Mable Clark Stevens passed away in 1985.
We started the long process of sorting and distributing
a lifetime of treasures, memories and just stuff.
Nostalgia, of course, dominated the time, along with memories of childhood we would exchange while sorting.
Like so many houses from the war era and before, there lived a monster with octopus arms at the bottom of the stairs in the basement.
And right next to the octopus was the monster’s room AKA…
“The Fruit Room”

The musty “Fruit Room” was a scary place with a huge heavy door and the strange aroma of who knows what?
(I now know it is the distinct smell
that a mouse has been here.)
As an adult,
I understand the door was a custom design and insulated
to help balance humidity and preserve produce.
But as a child, it was the “ginormous” door to keep monsters from escaping and entering the house!
Sometimes, even though it took the strength of my whole body,
I would open and close the door because when you did,
a light came on all by itself!  Was it the monster that lived in the fruit room?
We were never sure…
I wasn’t smart enough (at the time) to realize that a string was attached to the door that made it ‘automatic’!
My sisters and I would dare each other to stay in the haunted fruit room and see if the light really went off,
but none of us had the courage to take the dare.
There were jars of jam and jelly, applesauce, salmon, string beans, peaches…
all dated in the era when Grandma was in the mind set of canning.
Yes! Indeed, I saved a jar of her ‘Huckleberry Preserves”.
The tiny aged label, in her own handwriting, identified the contents of her busy canning day,
and to me, it was another treasure.
Today, the preserves sit with nostalgic pride in my vintage kitchen.
Amongst the empty canning jars,
a granite speckled cannery,
wire racks and picnic baskets
I discovered…

“The Prize”

An unopened package of vintage shelf paper from the 40’s!
I literally held it to my heart, because it was SOOOO ME!!!
My favorite colors of Red, Yellow, Green and Black on a background of delicate cream.
It was especially a surprise,
because Grandma did not have these colors anywhere in her house.
Red was too bold and she leaned more to the pastels
(as did my mother).
In the 1980’s, I was in the thick of raising a multitude of children.
Part of raising children is the continual path of destruction that just happens.
Somehow, in the youth of adulthood, I knew to put the vintage shelf paper away and wait.
To display the baskets of flowers with the scalloped edge at that time,
would be sure to mean a short life span of this delicate treasure.
So, it went to its new home.  A box.
A storage box of treasures, marked “Heirlooms” to be used in “THE House”.
From 1985 to 2005
the baskets of red and yellow flowers waited their debut.
It was twenty years until the dream of using the shelf paper came to fruition.
We, unexpectedly, were going to build our dream house
and all the treasures were going to be released back into life.
It was time for the vintage shelf liner to serve the purpose for which it was created.
I wanted a place for it to be easily seen, but not readily used;
a place to add to the nostalgic feeling of entering into another era.
After all, it held the title and high honor of …
“The Inspiration Piece”
for my new kitchen…
the item to which all the rest of the kitchen would defer.
In the process of creating the kitchen house plan,
I chose to place shelves to the right, as you entered the kitchen.
It was a natural focal point even though I would forgo upper kitchen cabinets.
A decision I have never regretted.
The aged paper,  lining the shelves is the perfect support for the other kitchen heirlooms…
an angel food cake pan,
antique spice cans,
‘cake tape’,
Crisco in the box,
and of course, Spam!
(That would be related to meat, not computers.)

Essentially, I use little jelly jars to hold my herbs and spices.
Other vintage jars contain staples.
The jars easily slide off the shelf for baking and everyday use.
Above the shelves,
I hung kitchen tools with green handles
that were part of traditional cooking
for both my mother and grandmother.
The “Layered Look” is a way I create dimension in a “Themed Room”.
I use wallpaper that is chosen for its support to the theme,
not necessarily by my favorite design.
In my vintage country kitchen,
I found wallpaper picturing antique recipe cards and this wall paper I loved!!!  It was…

To create the next layer,
I took old handwritten recipe cards from my mother and grandmother
and pinned them to the wall,
along with single pages from recipe books of antiquity.
All of this brings me closer to a heritage I embrace with gratefulness,
while giving another facet of vintage to MY Children and Grandchildren.
I am surrounded by the nurturing that comes in a kitchen filled with warm scents,
warm ovens, warm conversations all warmed with love.
I feel the love of my Mother and Grandmother around me.
In turn, I want to extend love to the many beloveds that enter my Vintage County Kitchen.
Sometimes I look around and wonder…
“Will any of my Grandchildren find treasures in my home, after I am gone?  Will they hold them to their heart?”
“Will any of my descendants place an heirloom in their home and boast… ‘This was my Grandmothers and her Grandmother’s before that…’ ?”
I hope they do.
I pray they will remember…
“A Moment in Time”
Thank you , Grandma, for the Jubilee Vintage Shelf Paper… I LOVE it!
“Cookies & milk anyone?”

“This Kiss ~ This Kiss”

Forty one years ago, today, marks the moment when
“this kiss ~ this kiss”
sealed our commitment to each other for a lifetime.
Darrell & Linda
In the current era, even though the words are spoken traditionally, many marriages dissolve before the blending has even begun.
For me, Darrell IS MY ‘knight in shining armor’ but much more than that,
he is my husband who totally committed himself to marriage; our marriage ~ a lifespan of marriage.
The blending of our lives has been a waltz of twirls, dips with countless quick steps of recovery.
Our twirls have been circles of forgiveness,
our dips have been times of complicated communication… or the lack thereof,
but our steps have always been ordered by the Lord.
We have spent our early years learning what God’s plan is for the man and
what His plan is for the woman giving a direction to the pathway we chose to take.
As we learned, we worked to implement the design and purpose in our daily walk.
We learned the art of communication ~ how to talk, how to listen.
We learned how to respect and how to love.
We learned how to compromise sometimes without compromising.
We learned how to let go.
We learned how to hold on.
We learned contentment.
Contentment with each other…
contentment in situations… contentment even with painful circumstances… and we’ve kept dancing.
Today, this kiss is truly incredible, 41 plus years and it’s still incredible!

The Clock Won

"The Clock Won"
I have to say, I didn’t want to let the year 2012 go…
I like even numbers.
We all know what 13 means.  Or at least, what we have been groomed to think it means.
Time has won.
2013 is here~
I couldn’t stop it.
So now what will I do with this year?
What do I want to do to make my life count?
I want to organize pictures and family history…
I want to create music play lists of my favorite melodies…
I want to quilt… all different kinds of quilting…
I want to write… blogs, letters, stories, books…
But most of all, I want to get to know someone better… the one who knows me best and loves me most… Jesus.
What are you going to do?

My Mother, Whom I Love ~ A Mother’s Day Tribute

A tribute to our mother is the purpose, for which I write,
To honor her; even though she is gone from our sight.

The imprint she left on each of our hearts,
Has lasted to this day, in spite of her depart.

She was shy in front of people and hated to speak,
If it was a large group, you would hardly hear a peep.
But one on one she would love to talk,
And listen to stories of your daily walk.
She was always close through the telephone,
It was one way that the family interest was shown,
Asking about the children and all the family needs
Was her way of loving and planting caring seeds.

She would be ready to tell how to make potato salad or stew,
Or what flower would be best in front of a shrub or two.
So many things stored only in her head,
We tried to write them down as each thing was said.

She was not a bold person or one of great fame,
But she touched so many lives that she was known just the same.

She quietly went about doing good
Never feeling like she had done all she should.

She often felt inadequate and thought others did things best,
and never really comprehended the success of HER quest.

We wanted her to see she had fruit that would remain,
Now, Jesus can tell her of all she has gained.
Thank you, Mother, for the consistency of your life and the love you have shown, for my “Moment in Time”.

A Tribute to My Mother ~ The Decorator

I inherited a priceless gift from my mother… her skill in decorating.
At an early age, creating homes for my Muffy Dolls was a passion.  I would find different accessories around the house and in my mind, I had
created a mansion.
Eventually, I advanced, somewhere around the age of 7 or 8,  to actually build my own home out of discarded appliance boxes.  Using a dull
knife, I would make windows with shutters, arched doors and a peaked roof.  Soon I advanced to painting the flimsy structure and even add
fabric to creating make-shift curtains.
Then it hit me!  I could prop the house on top of our wagon, put a rope on the wagon to the back of the tricycle and I had my first mobile
home!  Little did I know I would eventually live in an actual size mobile home and raise seven children!
The joy I have had decorating our dream house is over the top… but I learned it from my mother.
My mother loved creating beauty, and my dad delighted in her creations.  Daddy was a ‘man’s man’ yet he slept in her lace covered canopy bed.
He loved to dwell in the colorful, flower-filled environment filled with love and my mother.

I inherited a priceless gift from my mother… her skill in decorating.
At an early age, creating homes for my Muffy Dolls was a passion.  I would find different accessories around the house and in my mind, I had
created a mansion.
Eventually, I advanced, somewhere around the age of 7 or 8,  to actually build my own home out of discarded appliance boxes.  Using a dull
knife, I would make windows with shutters, arched doors and a peaked roof.  Soon I advanced to painting the flimsy structure and even add
fabric to creating make-shift curtains.
Then it hit me!  I could prop the house on top of our wagon, put a rope on the wagon to the back of the tricycle and I had my first mobile
home!  Little did I know I would eventually live in an actual size mobile home and raise seven children!
My mother loved creating beauty, and my dad delighted in her creations.  Daddy was a ‘man’s man’ yet he slept in her lace covered canopy bed.
He loved to dwell in the colorful, flower-filled environment filled with love and my mother.

A Tribute to My Mother on Mother’s Day… A 7 Day Series

Mother’s day is here.

Some of you are scurrying to get just the right card, just the right flower and plan just the right dinner.

Others may be waiting for the surprise that Mother’s Day can bring.

I know of new mothers who will be celebrating their very first Mother’s Day with joy and anticipation.

Others of you feel the pain that the role of a Mother can bring… looking for the time, when it will be “…all better!”

And for some, this will be the first Mother’s Day without your Mother.

The isles of cards, signs, overabundance of flowers ready to be purchased are a painful reminder.

You feel hollow inside and so much like an orphan without purpose.

I miss my mother, I miss buying things for her, I miss the person that loved me no matter what… always.

Thank you, Mother, for who you were and what you instilled in my life.

I honor you, and rise up and call you blessed.

All of the pictures are from our home growing up in the West Hill of Portland Oregon.

Thanks for the memories, Mother, for this “Moment In Time”

April Showers & Wedding Flowers…

April brings fresh beginnings along with celebrations, birthdays,
and this week a wedding anniversary.
Our daughter, Victoria RuthAnna Moxley and Joel Burton Walker
were married 8 years ago on April 18th at “The Old Church” in downtown Portland.
Many memories of weaving family together were fashioned on
that day that go back several generations.
Less than a 100 years ago, my Grandmother, Mable Sweet Clark Stevens,
played the original pipe organ in the Sanctuary of “The Old Church”,
in the 1950’s for church meetings of the Southern Baptist Convention.
But, there is more…
The Organ boasts quite a history of its own.
It was designed and installed in 1883 in by Hook & Hastings,
a prominent organ building firm in Boston,
as a gift from the “Ladd Family”,
to the Calvary Presbyterian Church, in September of 1882.
Unique in design, it was and remains, a tracker-action organ
which indicates mechanical connections.
No electricity is used to produce the distinctive pipe organ sound, as it is ‘hand’ pumped.
The organ itself was the first pipe organ in Portland and remains intact to this day.
Purchased in Boston, it was delivered via boat, around the horn to San Francisco.
From there it was loaded onto an ox cart to travel north; at the time,
Portland’s railway system had not been completed.
The organs new home was being built west of the main city.

Far out in the country, open fields, encompassed by the Northwest forest,
made the perfect setting for the
Sanctuary’s opened doors,
on September 11, 1882.
It is not hard to imagine coming to the church in the wildwood,
carriages pulling up to the portico ~ releasing women in their Sunday best.
The Baroque style window moldings, enchanting Renaissance columns
and bell ringing belfry tower encouraged local residents to travel
“far out into the country”
to enjoy this captivating place of worship.
We were thrilled when Joel and Tori chose this historic church for their wedding;
not just because of the classic beauty of the structure,
but because it would be adding another memory to our family history.
The 1950’s brought more to this building than my Grandmother playing the organ.
The church family embraced a young widower with an enormous burden.
Ruth Nichols Moxley (Darrell’s Mother) passed at a young age after battling cancer.
Loman (Darrell’s Father) was left with five boys and a determined heart to follow God.
(David is missing in this picture as he was being cared for by another family.)
I would like to honor Loman, at this point, for feeding, dressing and
bringing the boys to church every Sunday by himself, as was his custom.
Family tragedy never deterred him from the purpose of his heart.
Loman eventually migrated with a group of fellow believers
from the mother church on the east side of town,
“Lincoln Street Baptist Church”,
to start a new work on the west side of town.
It was to be called “First Southern Baptist Church”.
Meeting in an old building on the corner of 11th & Clay,
it would later become known as “The Old Church”.
As “Fate” would have it, at the new location,
there was an attractive young woman from Texas who had pioneered
to the Great Northwest to attend Seminary.
She had hopes of becoming a missionary in some far distant land.
Soon, a romance blossomed and the calling turned to the mission field at hand.
Five boys and a wedding.  In that order.
The wedding took place on October 14, 1952.
It was the first wedding to ever make the front page of the Oregonian, a real novelty at the time.
Loman, Thelma, Rolland, Rod, Darrell, Dean and David Moxley became a family.
Our first family wedding in “The Old Church”.
Growing up in the classic structure gave unending opportunities for exploration.
Climbing up to the belfry, running in the halls of the basement,
finding passageways of mystery with low, low ceilings…
It wouldn’t be hard to lose a lad on a Sunday morning.
The local church had become a second home.
As we previewed the building for Joel and Tori’s wedding,
Darrell and I meandered through the changing walls as he recalled his history in the cherished church.
The claim to fame, when bored with the words of wisdom coming from the pulpit,
secretly inscribe your unforgettable initials upon the pew in front of you.
Andrew, our son, and Darrell set off on the hunt for “D.M.”
Victory!  Near the back, on the left side as you face the podium,
a secure D.M. inscribed for all of time and eternity.
As we walked under the Gothic arches,
my passion for Victorian architecture was looming within my spirit.
What beauty, what grandeur, what skill, what vision.
I am so thankful that people in our past loved to design symphonic elegance with wood.
We progressed to the wedding rehearsal and it came time for
the Bride & Groom
to stand in their place… and of course,
tradition states someone else must stand in their position of honor.
Darrell and I were summoned to the position and we scurried to the platform,
but inside my heart, it was a prophetic call.
It was like our wedding all over again, as we stood in this sacred position.
Our vows were a serious commitment to each other
which has produced fruit of a 40 year marriage.
It had always been my dream to marry in this old church.
It was not available at the time of our wedding, but it was still a dream, nonetheless,
and now I had another dream… hmmm~
The “Wedding Planner”  quickly turned into the  “Wedding Day”
including  all the stress balanced with delight.
What a bliss to have mother of the bride and mother of the groom
working together to dress our daughter,
while chatting about every detail that was soon to take place.
Truly, joy filled the air.
Preparations for the wedding of 2004 were taking place
in the same area as Tori’s Grandmother prepared in 1952…
A legacy~
"Amanda, Alissa & Mindy" background "Angel & Darrell"
“The Old Church”
has become sacred ground for other family weddings, as well.
Our oldest son, Dennis and Angel were married under the massive arches in 1989.
More descendants of the Moxley clan made a memory of their special day.
The Dillions (Angela Moxley) & The Mallorys (Karil Moxley)
“Family… All because two people fell in love”…
The sign reads above the blissful moments in time on my
“Wedding Wall”…
And the five little white suits worn by the Moxley boys…?
They were worn proudly in a future family wedding
and are waiting patiently in Grandma’s attic,
for another two people to fall in love, and want a legacy to make their Wedding Day special.
Tori & Joel…
Happy Anniversary!
The family is still growing with the recent addition of Lucy Victoria Walker,
who has already captured the hearts of her older brothers,
Drew & William.
Darrell & I …?
We would love to celebrate 50 years of marriage on January 15, 2022
within the walls of memories at “The Old Church”,
but we would be EXTENDING our vows.
“For better or worse, sicker or poorer…”,
if we live that long, the reality will probably be sicker and poorer~
but rich in love ~ rich in history ~ rich in commitment,
and a priceless
“Moment in Time”

In Moments Like These Instrumental

“Heavenly Sunshine”

“I can see clearly now the rain is gone…” oops, it’s back!

March 2012 has been quite a month.

It is amazing that out of 31 days, only four days record even partial sun.

"Reality Report"

The National Weather Service reports:

Portland is less than half an inch away from breaking the record for the wettest March in more than 50 years, according to the National Weather Service.

Rain is such a part of Northwesterners, that we even have a man of steel imitating our daily lifestyle.

"Mr. Umbrella Man"

Portland’s life-like sculpture tagged by the public as “Umbrella Man”, (actual name:  “Allow Me” by J. Seward) lives in Pioneer Courthouse Square and NEVER puts his umbrella away.  Ever.

Wise man.

Perhaps this is why my mind wanders and wonders…

Do people from the Pacific Northwest appreciate sun more than most?

I tend to think so.

Our FBI (“Family Bureau of Information”) via my son, Dennis, provided an optimistic definition of “Sunny Days in the Northwest”:

  • If it is blue sky anywhere, it is a sunny day.
  • If there are high level clouds and it is bright out, it is a sunny day.
  • If …there are low level clouds, it is partly sunny.
  • If there is rain, it is showers with some sun.
  • If it is pouring, it is raining with a chance of sun.

Optimistic…?  One has to be in order to survive the days of gray.

"Love Sunshine"

Growing up in the Northwest, sunshine has always been a great source of joy for me.

Sunshine and I always had a secret plan in the mornings.  When I would wake up to rays pouring in my windows, it meant Mr. Sun and Linda had a goal.

I would come downstairs to the great light invading our Living Room.  Equal squares stretched out over the hard wood floor.

"Mother's Morning Sun in the Living Room"

Confidence was built in me over time, the pattern would always be the same!  (Even the pictures that I share today of our house growing up, when it was ready to sell, display the same squares I saw as a little girl.)

"Landing of Stairway at Mother's House"

In the morning, as I stood on the landing of the stairway,

I would look out over the floor and ponder… which square would I choose today?

"Mother's Living Room Facing North"

My job, working with Mr. Sun, was to fit my entire 4 year old body into one of those squares without touching the lines.

"Squares of Sunlight"

I would pick out the square,

stand in the center,

squat my petite frame down within the four lines,

tuck my knees tight to my chest,

pull at the rolled up hem of my frayed pink, silk nightgown,

and bring all the edges under the command of my feet!

There.  I fit!


Hold the human cocoon tight and examine if all body parts and nightgown are within the sunshine square.


Mission accomplished… now hold it!

Hold it and just feel the warmth of the sun,

the warmth of the floor,

and even my frayed pink silk nightgown,

gradually warming my body.


The aroma of pancakes and bacon wandered my way, distracting me of my purpose, but I held tight.

"Ava's Morning Pancake"

Silently I would enjoy the moment… today, some would call it~ “Meditate”.

Startled out of my moment of glory, I heard my mother call “Pancakes are ready, better hurry, you don’t want them to get cold.”

Giving myself the permission to release from the organized square, I would jump up, much like a ‘jack-in-the-box’ ready for my next adventure:  the kitchen. Break the all-night-fast!

"Morning Sun in Mother's House"

Whenever the clouds would allow, we would feast on a colorful sunrise, out the kitchen window, while devouring mother’s pancakes.

Growing up in the west hills of Portland, Oregon, we looked east over the Willamette River, to a spectacular view of Mt. Hood.   (Actual picture of a morning sunrise from our kitchen window growing up house)

Even as a child, I don’t think I ever took it for granted.  There is a special splendor of beginning a day with sunshine while breaking the evening fast, especially with mother’s pancakes.

"Morning Sun in our Dream Home"

My mother told us over the years, the importance of the kitchen facing east “… because you get the morning sun.”

So when we planned our new home, it had to have kitchen windows to face east for the morning sun, for whenever it might show it’s yellow face.

And, have windows with squares, because that is just who we are.  (Yes, I know they are called panes.)

"Gathering Room With Square Windows ~ Under Construction"

When the sun shines through and creates little squares on our floor…

"Morning Sun Through Windows in Gathering Room"

I will teach my grandchildren how to pull their knees up close to their chest, tuck them in real tight, and feel the warmth of the sun, within their little corner of their world.

Now, when I come downstairs to the morning’s bright shining light through my window…

"Burst of Morning Sun in Gathering Room"

I am so grateful for the sun, and I see it creating patterns on our “Gathering Room” floor…

"Sunlit Squares in Gathering Room"

I am grateful because us “Northwesterners” treasure those bright sun rays…


as I look at these squares,

I KNOW I won’t fit my ‘little body’ within these lines…

in this “MOMENT IN TIME”.

"Dream House in Sunshine"

From Sea to Shining Sea

March, for many reasons, is a significant month in our family.
The month brought a mark in my history, as well, in 2005.
It was an unexpected blessing when I found out I would be traveling to London and Eastbourne in England on a business trip with a special opportunity for sightseeing on the weekends.
Never in my biggest dreams, did it ever include a trip to England.  (And I dream BIG!)
Our company was merging information from the UK office and the USA office that required concentrated networking.
A week of intense meetings was sandwiched in between two tourist packed weekends of sheer bliss.
As we began to explore the land, it was an unforeseen reaction to feel like my feet were touching the soil of ‘home’.
Surges of inner excitement came over me again and again as we scurried from one land mark to another.
I was taken aback by my historical entanglement of emotion; it was not anticipated.  A connectivity that I did not know existed came to the surface of my heart and mind to ponder.
I knew my maternal heritage came from English shores and so I went prepared to explore, in case there was a time of connecting.  Being part of a group, you bob like a buoy as the group takes on a leadership of its own.
However, the second weekend we toured South East England which showed more hope for a personal destiny.
Some 375 years prior, my Great + Eight Grandfather, William Clark,
stood on the same shores of the English Channel,
where I then stood, ready to board a tiny ship ready to sail the Atlantic.
The “Mary & John” set sail in March 1630, (20 years after the Mayflower) with my ancestor,
William Clark, who was 21 years of age at the time.
In my home, I started collecting models of old ships early in my adult life, without awareness of my personal story that would someday unfold.  My spirit was drawn to the adventures at sea even at an early age and influenced my decor.
Now, standing on the same shore in March 2005, overlooking the great body of water, I wondered…
… What time of day did they depart?
… When did they hear the last sea gull?
… What was it like to experience their first sunset?
… Did they feel fear, the first night of pitch black with the sound of water slapping against the ‘boat’?
… Was he seasick?
… Did he keep a diary?
Daydreaming and gazing over the water as it sparkled in the sun, I marveled at their courage.
No technology as we know it,
no confidence of relatives waiting on the other side,
little medical knowledge or medicine if needed.
What they had most of all, was TRUST.
Trust in the Captain of the “Mary & John”, trust in their ability to persevere, but most of all, trust in God.
As my research continued, I was surprised to find how much was written historically about William.  He became a Judge Lieutenant in his new life in what would become America, and is documented in history as one of the seven pillars of the first church in Northampton.
History books records his life as follows:
“Trumbull called Clarke, “One of the ‘Dorchester men’ who arrived here soon after the settlement of Mr. Mather, he remained, to the end, the firm and faithful friend of his pastor. A man of quiet dignity, self-contained, and ready of resource, he bore a more conspicuous part in the early history of the town, than any others who lived here during the first twenty years of its existence.” Clarke was “one of the most influential among the founders of the town. His reputation as a man of business preceded him, and he was at once put forward in many affairs of public importance, and so continued, a leader, till old age compelled him to give place to younger but scarcely better men. A man of great public spirit, resolute and capable, he was sure to be employed by the town in conducting any of its businesses requiring skill, knowledge, tact, and determination. He was a hard worker, a pioneer in the best sense of the term. Enduring hardship with cheerfulness, meeting difficulty half way, conquering oftener that conquered, he stands one of the most prominent among the promoters of the plantation. Founder of a numerous family that has had worthy representatives during the entire history of the town, and whose descendants are scattered throughout the land, his name I honored and respected wherever it is found.”

His life made a difference in the new land and he left his mark:
“…firm and faithful friend ~ …quiet dignity, self-contained, ready resource, leader, ~ great public spirit, resolute and capable, ~ skilled, knowledge, tact and determination, ~ hard worker, ~ endured hardship with cheerfulness, “
“…whose descendants are scattered through the land…”
To personalize, William Clark left a mark in me.
I am a descendant of William Clark, who was born in England in 1609.
I have his DNA in this earthly body of mine.
William just lived the daily life of his era, but with strength of character and integrity.
No special education,
no grand inheritance.
What he lived cost nothing yet it was priceless.
I have potential to leave a mark in history just living my daily life with strength of character and integrity.
No special education, no grand inheritance… just being a cheerful, hard worker and a faithful friend.
Free and priceless.
It is my responsibility.
I CAN make a difference in my “Moment in Time”.