Helen Schenck 3 (The Teen Years)

My mother passed away Saturday morning, August 3, 2024. This is the third in a series of posts remembering her life. The first two posts were:

1. The Early Years
2. The Depression Years

After seven years away from Frankfort, the odyssey of my mother's family came to an end, and they returned to their base camp.

11. Frankfort Bible College reopened in the fall of 1939, and my grandfather was called back to teach. The family moved back into the small cottage owned by someone else. The now significantly larger children slept in a bunk bed of single width, the two boys on the top and the two girls on the bottom. They had a laundry stove for heat but still no toilet or running water. It was the farthest cottage from the dorms.

My mother had her father for several high school classes: Latin, history, algebra, geometry, English, and health and safety. She remembers one lesson in health and safety that was about not leaving things like books on the stairs so you don’t trip. Helpful. :-) He taught Bible courses and prophecy in the college.

That freshman year of high school was one of sickness for my mother. Not only did she get the mumps, but she also had a very serious case of Pemphigus, which was nearly always fatal. Her father carried her up a flight of stairs on a Sunday morning to see a doctor. Her legs were weeping fluids and itched badly. The doctor prescribed a fluid to put in a bucket for her to soak. The redness and swelling were climbing up her legs.

She remembers one day when two of her close friends were visiting, Mary and May Zeits. They prayed to the top of their lungs for healing. My mom later testified that “the Lord heard our cries, and I started on the road to recovery.”

12. Once again, it was my grandmother who came to the rescue to save them from poor living conditions. There was a house across the railroad tracks, less than a half mile east of campus. It was being sold for taxes due, $200. Grandma Shepherd had four brothers (Harry, Billy, Lester, and Garland). She was going to ask them each for $25 toward the house. They were generous and gave the whole amount.

Around 1941, they moved into this new house, which still did not have an indoor toilet (951 S. Third St.). It was in poor condition, smelly, a shell of a house. An elderly couple had lived there, unable to take care of themselves properly. Grandpa Shepherd did the math as they slowly redid walls and added to the house, including finishing an upstairs space.

One memory my mother had was trying to put wallpaper over some tar paper my grandfather had used on the walls. It was my grandmother’s idea, and my mom and her brother Paul were charged with the task. But the wallpaper wouldn’t stick. In frustration, Paul said, “Throw it out the window.” But they did get enough up to make it livable.

Her dad enclosed a small porch to make a room for my mother and her sister Bernadine. A long shell of a room in the back was given cement to make a floor. Mom remembers that she and Paul were tasked to smooth the cement before it could dry. Apparently, they were only half successful. She remembers that the room became quite useful.

They were likely living in that new house when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. The troubles of Europe were no longer those of a faraway land. My grandfather would register for the draft at the age of 58 like every other able-bodied man in 1942.

13. The week my mother was to graduate from high school (spring of 1943), there was a flood in Frankfort. Their house was in a floodplain. The water came up to the piano keys, ruining my mother’s piano. They scrambled to pack and move as much as they could upstairs. I believe some precious family history was ruined.

They exited the back door through waist-deep water and were picked up by a police boat. Grandpa Shepherd quoted Job 1:21 the next day in chapel at FBC: “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” My mom remembers it as a precious time, despite the loss. They moved back into the Clem’s cottage on the campus for the summer.

It took a lot of work to get the house back into decent shape. The floors had buckled and were covered in mud. They had to be replaced. Somehow, they had the house at least livable by the time they needed to vacate the cottage for camp meeting.

14. My mother began her college days at Frankfort. Early in those four years, they were able to move into a larger house just a little bit down the street (951 S. Third St.). The sale of the first house was able to cover the cost. They finally had an indoor bathroom. Mom's mother rented gardening space in the field across the street, and they had fresh vegetables. They were living the life now!

I vaguely remember the cherry tree they had in the backyard. Apparently, my grandmother made cherry dumplings to die for. A sad moment for my grandfather was when their former house up the block burned down. They had put so much work into that house.

My mother’s family deeply enjoyed living in the new house. They had finally reached some stability in their lives. My mom tells a story about her and her sister Bernadine moving a chair or couch upstairs in the house. They could hear their father, who was praying at the time, pray for them. “Lord, please help Helen and Mary as they carry that chair up the stairs.” Bernadine mumbled under her breath, “Why don’t you get up yourself and help us?”

To be continued...