Post Fifteen

All the floods we have had lately (1973) make me remember the dreadful flood  we had in 1927 (November 3-7) when the state was flooded. The water came gushing through th railway gulf right here in Proctor, coursing through the village and marble yards, down Meadow Street washing houses away – the poor people lost everything they had.

Even the Marble Bridge was judged unsafe for everything except foot passengers.

The night of the flood Daddy was out all night, carrying people out of their houses to places of safety. Then we had to provide places for them to sleep, in the school houses, and to eat – at the Parish House. And we women, who had escaped the disaster, were set to provide food for them and to take turns to cater to them.

The telephone lines were down and we couldn’t find out how Grandma Hunter was. Of course, the electricity was out, but fortunately, we had our old coal range down in the laundry, so we did our cooking there. Not till the end of March could we drive to Burlington to see Grandma Hunter. I went by train and took a taxi myself and when I got to Winooski, the river was so high and had torn up the bridge. I had to drive over a pontoon bridge to be able to get to Essex Junction. The Army men at Fort Ethan Allen had raised the pontoon bridge. When I got to Essex, Grandma Hunter was so pleased to see me. I felt that never before had anyone been so glad to see me.

I stayed the night and got the doctor in to see her, and came home the next day, the same way I went.

I remember how I used to read to the children at night at bed-time, and at that time it was “Dr. Doolittle”. The children loved that fantastic story, and Grandma Hunter always came in to hear it, saying “she was childish enough to love it too.” One day, I went upstairs to see how things were, and I

found Grandma Hunter sitting on the bed and David at her feet rubbing her feet. She had dreadful bunions, and he thought it would ease her if he rubbed them. I never knew such a child, so thoughtful and comforting in my life. How pleased I was to see it in one so young.

David was a wonderful little boy to have, as I had said, so full of sympathy and compassion for everyone, even the boys in school loved him, and he was never too busy to enter into their affairs (they told me how much they had cared for him after he was shot down in New Guinea). He played football very well. Even when he was at Governor Dummer Academy, he was ranked one of the best players and made Captain of their team. In fact, one of his professors wrote that David was one of the finest boys he had ever known. He liked to experiment with his chemistry and radio. Daddy had a little room made in the cellar for him to use as his laboratory and he spent many happy hours in it.  My first radio David bought for me.

To this day, when I am in the laundry I can hear him coming down the cellar stairs, just as he did when he was in Middlebury College and came home unexpectedly to find me doing the laundry.  I remember when Daddy and I went to California and the Canadian Rockies, and David was in College, that he came home every Sunday to spend some time with Nancy, even though we had a nurse to stay with her. He was so thoughtful, even though no one mentioned it to him.

I go back to the time when I was on the State Board of the Women’s Club. I had to give a talk on the radio about, I think, beautifying the State. I remember it was Good Friday and I went to church afterwards, and Bishop Booth was there, and

he said how much he enjoyed my talk – anyway, he was a wonderful man and I was so glad to meet him. A year or so later, he came to preach in Proctor, and as

he had nowhere else to have dinner, I asked him to our house. I remember how Janet and David took to him, and how proud I felt that he was our Bishop.