My Mother 4: Getting Married

This is the fourth post in a series of posts remembering the life of my mother, Helen Schenck. The first three posts were:

1. The Early Years
2. The Depression Years
3. The Teen Years

15. In the fall of 1943, my mother started college at Frankfort Pilgrim College. These were the days of World War II. I don't have any more personal notes from her for those years, so I'll now continue with memories I have of things she said and I'd be delighted for any readers to add memories in the comments.

She would graduate as valedictorian of her class. She was apparently good enough at Greek that the president of the college at that time thought she might become a Greek teacher for the college. He had her substitute for him at least once. Marriage of course would take her in a different direction. I have her Greek textbook. Years later, when I started to learn Greek, I remember her trying to go through the alphabet, but that was about all that was left in her memory.

Her final credits were in the history of education. Her assignment was to outline a book. Probably wouldn't pass muster today for three credits. :-) There was apparently a little dispute over who should be valedictorian. The other contender was student body president, I believe. She was much more outgoing, involved, and indeed went on to be a leader and missionary in the Pilgrim church. My mother was shy and bookish. 

I heard the (friendly) two sides to this controversy from the relevant participants even in the last decade. But, whatever the reason, my mother had the honor and gave the valedictory speech. As I recall, it was on the imminence of Christ's return and the need for Christians to step up to meet the times. This would be a theme of my mother's later life. She was built for the cultural moment that rose in the 80s.

16. My grandfather, of course, was a prophecy teacher. During this period he was not only pastoring but going to churches to deliver teaching on the end times with the long prophecy scroll on the right. The Pilgrim Church was thoroughly dispensationalist: pre-trib rapture, pre-millennial, and all.  

My mother helped my grandfather type up his teaching into a book in the last years of his life. In 1960, he paid $100 to have it published: Foundational and Fundamental Truth Concerning the Coming of the Lord. Last year I republished it (2023). For months thereafter, my mother always asked me whether there had been any more sales. She still felt like we needed to promote the book so that people would know that Christ is coming back soon.

He retired from FBC on somewhat of a sad note. Still a Quaker in spirit, young rabble-rousing students of the late 50s weren't always ones to pay attention in class (nothing's changed :-) ). I think the president's son even jumped out the window for fun. The president didn't think my grandfather could keep order and pushed him to retire. He did get the final boy's dorm at Frankfort named after him, "Shepherd's Hall." 

My grandfather often seemed to get the short end of the stick, and it was against his principles to do anything about it. During the history of FBC, he was the one whose salary could be passed over first in a pinch. My father also had some similar elements in his background (his mother came out of the Old German Baptist tradition). He had an aha moment when he saw Aunt Bernadine's husband Paul send an order back to the kitchen that wasn't how he had ordered it. The realization was, "What do you know? Sometimes you get what you want when you say something." :-)

My grandfather died of bone cancer in 1963. I know it was hard on my mother. He and my grandmother spent those last years as janitors at a bank to make ends meet.

17. My mother knew or knew of many of the Pilgrims and other holiness folk of the early twentieth century. I believe she once heard Henry Clay Morrison preach, the founder of Asbury Seminary. She knew Walter Surbrook, general superintendent of the Pilgrim Church in the 30s and 40s. 

A major moment during her time at Frankfort was when the Philippines was liberated. R. K. Storey's family had been missionaries there when the Japanese took over. He lost a daughter in the early days of occupation because she drank from polluted water. The Storey's were part of the Bataan Death March and were prisoners until 1945. 

When the Storeys returned to Frankfort, the entire college marched in celebration from the college to downtown Frankfort. It was a high moment.

18. My mother's piano skills in college didn't go to waste. She would go to churches with singing groups from the college on the weekends, just like I did in college. One such church was the house church my dad's father had planted in Indy. My mother was friends with my dad's sister Francis, and more than once she went to this church to play the piano. (My mother also played the accordion, by the way.)

One Sunday in late 1946 or early 47, she was at their church for "Rally Day." She saw my dad's picture in his army uniform and thought to herself, "I wonder if I would ever date him." She was kind of dating at the time. I say "kind of," because my mother had no interest in the guy and there was no physical involvement, not even holding hands. I'm not even sure what to call that.

As a side note, my father's brother Eugene did ask her out first, but she wasn't interested. When my dad finally went to ask her out, he cleared it with his brother. I'm not sure how I would evaluate my father's romantic skills. His pickup line was, "Most of the guys my age are getting married, and I wondered if you would go out with me." Classic.

19. Let's just say that my mother had never properly dated. I wonder if she had even been to a proper restaurant before. On their first date, my mother didn't know what a tip was. She actually picked up the money my dad left behind on the table and returned it to him.

Soon, my dad wanted to kiss her, but she didn't think it was proper. He asked something like, "What will it take for you to let me kiss you?" Her answer was that she didn't think she should kiss someone until you were engaged." 

"Is that all?" he said. "Well then will you marry me?" A hopeless romantic, my dad. She said yes, and they were engaged after two months of dating.

My dad was working an early morning bread route those days with his brother Vernon. On dates, he would sometimes fall asleep with his head on her shoulder. They would both just be sitting in his car somewhere out in the country near Frankfort. She didn't mind. She just liked being with him. As an engagement present, he gave her a "hope chest" since wedding rings and jewelry of any kind were strictly prohibited.

They would get married on July 9, 1947, after dating for about four months. They were married at First Pilgrim Church in Frankfort, Indiana, about a mile north of the college. It was a double wedding. They weren't close at all to the other couple. A friend of my mom's just suggested they might save on expenses if they got married together.

The day of the wedding, my Mom felt like they needed some more flowers. She had no car, so she walked around to some friends whom she thought had pretty flowers in their yards and asked if she could have some. By the time she got to the wedding, she was so tired it was an effort to walk down the aisle.

After the wedding, they drove all the way to Whiteland that night, getting there about midnight. Mom's brother Paul followed them down to Dad's house to make sure they had enough money for their honeymoon. They went on for about a week in Mississippi and Louisiana, visiting one of the places he had been during the war. They went on to a Pilgrim Holiness camp meeting in Pineville, Louisiana, where they were asked to sing and did.

As a wedding gift, my dad gave my mother the piano that still sits in her living room today.

To be continued...