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Autobiography of
Bessie Ann Dutcher Sherman
I was born in a small settlement called Starlight, Pennslyvania
on November 16, 1899. My maiden name was Bessie Ann Dutcher.
My mother's name was Bessie Ann Clemens and my father's name was
Claude Marvin Dutcher. My brother, Claude Dutcher Jr. was four
years older. The house was old and snow drifted through the cracks
in winter.
In 1901, my parents bought a farm in the township of Hancock,
New York, a small village nestled in the foothills of the
beautiful Catskill mountains, where the east and west branches
of the Delaware River meet. Here is a map of Hancock Township.
Point Mountain rises abruptly from between the two branches
of the river and overshadows the village like a sentinal on duty,
while its feet are forever washed by the waters of the Delaware.
(Editors's Note: There is a small mausoleum atop Point Mountain
which was built in the 1940's and is now abandoned. You can just
see it in this photo.) 
Sands Creek, a sizeable brook, is fed by little mountain streams and
is bordered by Sands Creek Road which connects Hancock with its next-
door neighbor, Cannonsville. Our farm was located on a stony
mountain about one mile up from this road. Flagstone and curbstone
were much in demand in those days and there were three stone quarries
on our land.
My father was a stone cutter by trade, so we produced our own fruit,
vegetables, meat, and dairy products and sold stone for the expenses.
We shared the work load evenly according to our abilities. I was
too little to work, so i took my dollies and played while my mother
and brother measured and chalk-lined the stone for my father to cut.
Dad and Mom were strict disciplinarians and we were not left to
ourselves often, but on one occasion we were left behind to wash
the dishes and sweep the floor. We played until almost time for
them to come home. Then we rushed to the kitchen to get everything
in order. In our haste, we tipped over a a dish-pan full of water
onto the floor. Luckily, Dad and Mom were late getting home and
everything was under control.
With the ever increasing use of cement and the corresponding
decline in the stone business, we sought other sources of income.
We decided to produce fruit and honey. My father, brother, and I
went to the agricultural center at Delhi (the county seat) to study
bee-keeping and fruit-growing.
-2-
In about three years we were cultivating a half-acre of strawberries
and working thirty-six colonies of bees. We sold our produce
from door to door. I drove the horse and buggy and Dad peddaled
the fruit and honey. Business was good.
When I was about five years old, the Lord Jesus made himself very
real to me. Although we attended no church nor prayed or read
the Bible, as my father claimed to be an atheist and my mother was
a non-practicing Congregationalist, Jesus was nevertheless a very
real person to me.
There was a deep ravine wherein a little stream of water made
its way down to the creek below. On the northern bank grew purple
and white violets. Dog-wood and Jack-in-pulpits added beauty to
tranquility. That was my place of retreat and there I went to
talk with Jesus, sometimes to cry over my childlike sins and when
I felt his forgiveness, I went away happy.
My mother was a music teacher and we had an organ, so she taught
me music, and as my father thought that girls did not need school
education, she also taught me the three Rs. At 14 years of age,
I was playing the classics. Mom had some hymn books and sometimes
we spent the evenings singing hymns and folk songs around the organ.
During the summer months we were too tired from working in the
fields to enjoy singing. there were several kinds of nuts growing
wild on the mountain-sides and in the autumn we gathered our winter's
supply of them. then, during the long winter evenings, we did our
homework or played games while eating chestnuts and apples roasted
at the open hearthfire.
We were poor. My brother and I went to the village store with Dad
and Mom once a year at Christmas-time only and they gave us one
dollar each to spend for anything we wished. However for food,
clothing and home we lacked nothing.
-3-
The years went by. My brother married and was living in the city
of Binghamton, N.Y. I had an evergrowing desire for education, so
Mom and I went to live with Claude (in 1916). I was about 17 years old.
Mom and I both worked; Mom at housecleaning and my first job was
in a peanut butter factory. I enrolled in evening classes at
Binghamton Central High School; whereby working days and studying
nights, I completed eight grades in two years because of Mom's
tutoring at home.
It was at the little Binghamton City Mission, at 128 Washington
Street, where Claude was a regular attendant, that I first heard
the gospel message in song, sermon, prayer and testimony, which
had never been fully satisfied before. I wanted to be there all
the time. This mission was supported financially by a godly man.
He was elderly and of considerable means financially. His name
was Mr. Woodruff. He and Mr. Ross were co-presidents.
The mission was non-denominational and people from all churches
came and worshipped with us. Ministers or evangelists from
different denominations also came to give revivals. In the
summer there was the camp meeting. This was held in a large
grove of evergreen trees. There we lived in tents and all the
meetings were held under the large tent in the center of the camp.
There we spent ten days in song, sermon, prayer and bible study.
-4-
Much to my spiritual growth and edification, the mission sup-
ported two city missionaries. One of them, a very devout and
holy young woman, named Isabelle Gregory, loved, counseled,
taught and guided me through my early spiritual life. Also,
there was Mother Stoddard, who was always ready to pray with
me and support me with her strong faith and love. There was
Mother Blakesly who opened her home to me and freely gave of
her time and means to me; even to nursing me through a long
Illness. To those godly men and women who laid the founda-
tion stones of my christian life, I owe a debt of gratitude.
I was baptised in the Chenango river.
I worked days, attended the evening service at the mission,
then on to night school. The peanut butter factory closed
down and I went to a perfume factory, then to a book bindrey,
then a tin can factory and last of all, a shoe factory.
Meanwhile I was growing spiritually.
I felt a strong desire to serve our Lord in the foreign mission
fields. Of this I talked with Isabel, and through her good
offices, I was enabled to enroll in "The Christian and Missionary
Alliance" missionary training institute at Nyack, New York as a
work-student. I studied high school subJects and theology, Bible
history, public speaking, Comparative Religions and music eight
hours per day and worked in the laundry four hours in the evening
for room and board. 
Nyack, at that time, was a village located about twenty miles
up the Hudson river from New York City, across the river from
Tarrytown. The photo at right shows Bessie at Nyack in 1920.
-5-
Our school was etched into the mountain-side with about eighty
steps leading up to it, with a beautiful view of the Hudson River
below. The school was highly spiritual. With emphasis on prayer
and bible study, resulting in "in-depth" personal piety. Each
student was required to observe the holy hour, in his or her room,
on the knees, in prayer and meditation with the Bible. We used no
make-up and the dress was simple with the neckline up to the collar-
bone.
It was while I was at Nyack that I saw the big city. The Glee
Club, of which I was a member, was scheduled to sing in the
Broadhurst theatre. We arrived there and I was all taken up with
the sights and sounds of the big city. Suddenly, I "came to"
and realized that my companions had all disappeared! Where was I?
I was terrified!!! Then a hand touched my shoulder; it was one
of the boys from the Glee Club. He said: "you hang on to my
coat-tail and don't let go." Then I saw that there was a 'big
hole' in the sidewalk, with steps going down. I followed him
down and found the Glee Club at the subway. So much for Nyack.
That summer I worked with Isabel visiting the poor and the sick
of the city of Binghamton. With her I learned much about real
missionary work. That fall the mission directors felt that I
should go to a different school and again with the help of Isabel,
Mr. Woodruff donated money and clothes, and I was enrolled in
God's Bible School College and Missionary Training Institute at
Cincinnati, Ohio.
-6-
As a work-student, studying eight hours and working four hours a
day, I studied theology, Elizabethan english, greek, latin,
homiletics, old and new testament doctrine and music (piano and
voice). Life there was much like that at Nyack, with more emphasis
on spirituality. We had prayer, testimony, and exhortation every
morning. The Dean and his wife were examples of holy living. My
first year I studied eight hours per day and worked four hours in
the evening in the laundry. That year I took a business course
and the next year I worked in the office.
I was a member of the Glee Club and one of an "all girl quintet"
which sang in various places in Ohio and Kentucky. At Christmas
time the school gave a Christmas dinner to all the poor children
of the city. The school furnished the food and the student body
prepared the dinner and served it. We were up until two o'clock
in the morning cleaning up afterwards. The last two weeks before
Christmas, the whole studdent body (men & women) passed through
the streets of the poor sections of the city inviting all of the
children to the dinner, and the big dining room was full and
overflowed into the kitchen. The next day the faculty served us
our Christmas dinner and so we fulfilled the law of love. On
Christmas Eve, the Glee Club sang carols on the main street
corners of the city.
-7-
Easter was observed in the same way; but with the sun-rise prayer
meeting above the school. During the summer vacations, I worked
with Isabel in the mission.
I was in the graduation class of 1921-1922. I had already been
approved by the foreign mission board to go to China as a missionary;
however, all missionaries going to foreign countries were required
to serve one year in the states in very poor, and usually rural
sections where there were no pastors. During that year we would
appear at various conventions and religious gatherings to present
our cause and hopefully come up with a person or group of sponsors
who would carry our expenses the first year in our missions. That
was the first missionary experience that I had; I lacked the year
of "hard scrabble" as we called it.
It was late in March and we were getting ready for graduation. I
was sick, weak, and tired, with a persistant cough. The faculty
decided that I should go home, rest up,and get medical attention.
Graduation was three months away. I went back to Binghamton and
Mother Blakely took me into her home and cared for me. I tried
to work but the cough became worse, so mother called a doctor who
said: "you have T.B. I will come tomorrow morning at 9:00 and
take you to a sanatarium. I said: "O.K., Doctor." and closed the
door behind him and packed my suitcase and took the evening train
to Mohawk, NY, where my Aunt Luna and Uncle Lewis Eckhart lived.
-8-
Aunt Luna and Uncle Lewis owned a fruit farm. Since Uncle Lew also
had a rural free delivery mail route, he gave me a horse to ride.
I lived outdoors, ate and slept outside. My Aunt Luna fed me
royally. I helped harvest the fruit while eating all I wanted.
I felt well again. I went to a specialist who pronounced me
cured. I went back to the mission to fulfill my year in the
home missions. For that I needed to be affiliated with some
church organization which would authorize and send me to a
mission church. The Reformed Methodist Church welcomed me.
Upon the recommendation of my school and of the city mission,
and after passing on by the mission board, i was ordained to
preach and teach the gospel, and to function as a pastor. I
was sent to a rural settlement where there was an old church
long in disuse. It was a community of farmers and several
families were scattered throughout the area. The year was 1923.
This place was called East Afton, New York, and was located forty
miles from Binghamton.
The people welcomed me warmly and I lived with one of the
families while gathering the people together. there was no talk
of denomination. We sang and prayed and shared the word together.
Meanwhile the people cleaned the church, mended the benches and
cut the grass around the church.
-9-
On foot over the dirt roads and by-ways, I visited all of the
families; helping where needed, caring for the sick and con-
ducting sunday services and wednesday prayer meetings. The
mission sent someone occasionally to visit and help. The
district elder made routine visits. An evangelist came and
gave a ten day revival (at his own expense) leaving us ten
dollars, as he said: "for kindling wood". At year's end we
had forty members in good standing plus a fairly large group of
children in sunday school.
At that time my mother came to live with us. She was about 65
years old and unable to work at day labor, and I was happy to
have her with me. However, we needed a whole house to live in.
The community gave us an empty farmhouse to live in. We also had
a table, a chair, a bed and some firewood for the stove. The
church could not support both me and mama. Sometimes we were on
short rations, so I went fishing with some friends and caught some
fish. The next morning, I saw Mom kneeling on the floor, bending
over something. I said: "Mom, are you praying"? and she answered:
"no, I am cleaning bullheads".
The farmers were milk producers and were members of the dairymen's
league which operated a creamery in the town of Bainbridge; about
ten miles from East Afton.
A young man named Schuyler Van Rensselaer Sherman bought the
family homestead in 1924 when his father passed away,
and lived there with his mother. Their farm was next door to the
church. He was one of the more prosperous farmers of the community.
The Sherman family was generous and helpful in the church.
-10-
Schuyler carried the milk for the community every morning and he
often brought food home for us voluntarily. He was specially kind
and thoughtful of my mother and she came to think of him as a son.
I was beginning to realize that I could not take Mom with me to China.
A year passed and Schuyler asked me to marry him. After much thought
and counsel with others, I said: "yes". On November 3, 1925, we were
married and went to live on the farm with Mother Sherman.
Early in March of 1926, I underwent surgery for appendicitis. Then
on Nov. 28, 1926 our first child Ruth Esther was born. When she was
eight days old we took her to the church and gave her to our Lord Jesus.
He accepted her, as time later proved. We continued to guide the
church until my father died in 1931.
Our second child was born on January 19, 1929, named Manville
(later baptized Catholic as John Augustine). There were serious
complications, and more so because a very heavy snowfall with
impassable drifts prevented the doctor from coming to my assistance.
In Feb. 1931, my father died, leaving the Hancock farm to us.
As my brother Claude had long since disappeared and we could not locate
him, it was up to Mom to administer the estate. Mom's health was
failing so she left it in my hands. There was much litigation
over it, and more, because of Claude's absence, so I let it be
sold for the back taxes, and thus bought it back for $35.00.
-11-
The depression of the 1930's was already threatening the financial
security of the nation. We still owed much in debt for the farm in
Afton. There was a need for improvements which were necessary to
comply with the dairymen's league requirements. After the banks
were opened for business again, we found that after the reevaluation,
our farm for which we owed $36,000 was re-evalued at $1,600, but
that we must pay for the original price. Likewise the price of
milk was cut by more than half, while our debt for improvements
remained the same. Our dairy was also reduced by almost half.
Together with the Sherman family, we decided to leave the [Sherman]
homestead and move to the [Dutcher] farm in Hancock.
We began afresh without the burden of debts. We worked the farm and
also both of us obtained employment in the Hancock silk-weaving mill,
Northern Star Silk Works Company.
Daddy (she refers to her husband) earned $ 8.00 per week and I
earned $ 5.00, while Mom cared for the house and the children.
Daddy worked nights and I worked days, so we saw little of each
other. We were passing each other on the way to and from work.
A friend of mine and I conducted services in an empty school
house in town. On November 5, 1931, our youngest son, Schuyler Jr.
(later baptised catholic as Paul Leo) was born. Mom took care of
baby Schuyler and I continued to work. We were barely surviving
the depression, living as it were, 'on a shoestring' trying to
feed six people with $16.00 per week.
-12-
It was a very hot, dry day in August 1933 and Baby Schuyler Jr. was
22 months old, very active and suffering from the heat. Then one
day he complained of pain and soreness all through his body and
he was hosting a high fever. The doctor came and went, but the
next day he called me to his office and said: "your baby has
polio and is entirely helpless. He cannot move a muscle."
There was a reconstruction center in Elmira, N.Y. for polio
patients. We were advised to take our baby there for treatments
for six months, which we did, visiting him once a month. Mom did
not go with us on our visits to him because as she said: "I don't
want to see him crippled". However she asked to go along with us
the last time we went because as she said: "this is the last time
I will see him". This was in February and on good friday she went
home to be with Jesus. She departed peacefully while I was holding
her in my arms. She was buried in the family lot in Bainbridge
(Afton), as we had no lot in Hancock.
Editor's note: the reference is to Bessie Ann Clemens Dutcher,
who died March 30, 1934 on the farm near Hancock, New York.
Baby Schuyler (Paul) was released to us on our next visit in May,
still unable to lift his head from his left shoulder. He was ten
years old when he finally held his head up straight. He fought a
successful battle against polio and won.
Meanwhile the depression held the country in an iron grip and we
struggled for survival. President Roosevelt's program of public
works in New York State set up a sewing course in Hancock and I
went to it. I received $10.00 per week instead of $8.00.
-13-
By that time we had left the farm, because we both were working,
and since our farm was located on a steep hillside which neither
we nor our car could climb especially in winter. While we were
still living on the farm, one of our neighbors whose farm joined
ours on the southern border was an Irish family, Jim and Mary
Foley with their son, Joseph who was crippled of his left leg.
We called him "Little Joe". His father died while he was an early
teenager, but he worked on the railroad as a water boy, carrying
water to the work men and so supported his mother. When he was
about 16, his mother died and little Joe was left alone. We
invited him to live with us.
The Foley family were Roman Catholics and they received the
Diocesan bulletin which then came to our house. This I read
with investigative interest, for I already was feeling drawn
toward the catholic faith. My studies of comparative religions
and greek (translating much of the new testament, especially
the gospels from greek to english had given birth to questions
which must be answered. Still living on the farm and working
meanwhile, we hired a girl named Densie Beattle to care for Mom.
After Mom passed away, Densie stayed on with us. My desire
to know more about the faith grew to the point where I decided
to investigate for myself and learn what the church believed.
About that time our Lord gave me a vision of things to come.
In my vision, I was in a very dark room. Standing beside me
was a man dressed in military uniform, very straight and soldier-
like. He said nothing, but I knew that I should obey him.
-14-
He led me across the room to a door that opened into another
room, which was much lighter, and I could see everything plainly.
He took me through that room to another door. He opened that
door, just a little, enough for me to see inside of a room filled
with a beautiful rose-colored light !!! It was wonderful to see!!!
I wanted to go in but he spoke for the first time and said: "you
can't go in now, but you will go in later." Later, when I did
go in, I recognized St. Paul's Catholic Church as the last room
that I saw in the vision. The vision vanished and time passed.
I was back in the silk mill. Doctor and funeral bills were
piling up. We walked a mile to work and after eight or some-
times ten hours of work, another mile back home. In the winter
sometimes we could not make it because of the snow drifts, so
we decided that before the next winter we would have to move
into town. I was still helping the new Reformed Methodist Church.
There was to be a meeting of ministers and I was expected to
attend, but I had decided earlier to to stay at home (no one
knew about my desire to know the Catholic faith). I waited
until everyone had gone, then I went to the rectory at St. Paul's
Church and, with much trepidation, rang the door bell. Father
John Rausch answered in a gruff voice and said: "what do you want"?
Frightened but determined, I replied: "I want to know what you
believe and why you believe in it". He said: "come in".
-15-
In his office he asked me a few questions and talked awhile. Then
he gave me some pamphlets to read and said: "take these home and
read them and come back next saturday and tell me what you want to
do". That was it! I was on my way to that beautiful church that
I had seen in my vision. After finishing the course of preparation,
our three children and I were baptized, provisionally of course,
because we were baptized before; I in the Chenango river and Ruth
Esther in the Delaware river. We arranged our school and work
hours so that we could attend mass and receive holy communion daily.
Daddy did not, at that time, enter the church because his family
were all "hard shelled" baptists.
Time passed; we had moved from the farm to the old high school
building in town. Ruth made her first communion. Daddy and I
were still working in the silk mill. Densie Beattle married and
and left us. N.B.: This would be about 1938 or 1939.
Our blessed mother favored me with another vision, in which she
came to me all dressed in beautiful blue and white. She asked me
for a pin to fix 'something about her dress'. I searched the
house for a pin but found none. However, I had one penny, so I
said to her: "I'm awfully sorry that I can't find a pin, but if
you will wait just a minute, I will run to the store and buy one
for you". Just at that moment Ruth came walking toward us,
dressed in her first communion white and the blessed mother said:
"never mind the pin, this will do very well". She took Ruth by
her hand and led her away.
-16-
One year later two Franciscans came to visit our pastor. The
next morning after mass one of the sisters came to us and asked
Ruth if she would like to become a nun. Ruth said: "yes'. The
the next year Ruth graduated from eighth grade. In September
of that year (1941), Ruth went to the motherhouse with the
Franciscan sisters and entered the Juniorate to complete high
school and to prepare to enter the order of Saint Francis of
Syracuse, New York.
About the same time, Johnny went to the Divine Word Seminary
in Erie, Pennslyvania. After two years he left the seminary
and we sent him to St. Jerome's in Canada to finish high
school. Meanwhile, Daddy was hospitalized with kidney stones
which were not removed. He was very sick and in much pain.
I asked him if he wished for Father Rausch to visit him. He
said "yes". Father Rausch came and Daddy accepted the faith.
After instructions he was received into the church.
At that time there was in Callicoon, N.Y. a seminary of the
Third Order of Friars minor, O.S.F. The church was beautiful
and boasted of an altar over-laid with gold and a monastery
wherein lived the priests and brothers of the O.F.M. I often
went there on a sunday afternoon to receive the sacraments
and the spiritual help which I so much needed, especially from
Brother Bruno, a saintly old monk.
-17-
There was also a congregation of the Third Order of O.F.M. and
with the help of Brother Bruno, I was received as a postulant in
that order with a small group of postulants. After our one year
of novitiate was finished, the Superior General came on his yearly
visit and we were professed, received the brown habit of the order,
the book of rules, the office book and our names in religion, and
so I became a Franciscan. The Superior General gave me the name:
Sister Elizabeth Ann of the Blessed Trinity, O.F.M. My work at
home and abroad has placed me more in contact with OSF than with
OFM. However, I have tried to live the ideals and practices by
which both orders seek to glorify God.
Time passed. World War II was in progress. I went to work at
Scintilla, a plant of Bendix Aviation at Sidney, N.Y. This was a
union factory and the salaries paid to its employees were much
higher than the silk mill could pay. The war ended and on "V-Day"
we were sent home to stay until we should be called back to work
again.
In time I was called back, but we were then back in the silk mill.
Japan was not exporting raw silk at that time and nylon materials
were taking the place of silk. The change from silk to nylon was
difficult and expensive. Wages were lower. Ruth and John worked
with us during the summer vacations and Daddy found work with better
pay at Whitaker's sawmill in Hancock.
In 1946, we went to Syracuse where Ruth, having finished her
Novitiate, was becoming a professed sister in the Order of St.
Francis. By that time Daddy had become quite attached to our
pastor and was employed as caretaker of the church grounds and
the Catholic Cemetary.
-18-
In 1950, Johnny married Irma Dorothy Livingston and later moved
to Lodi, N.J. Paul graduated from high school and immediately
entered the Air Force. Sister (Ruth) was sent to Hawaii and we
were left alone. I had already taken two state children, named
Johnny and Larry to bring up.
The silk mill had closed permanently. I tried weaving rag rugs
but then a new factory making footballs and basketballs came to
Hancock so I worked there until it closed.
We had the two state children to care for: Johnny, the eldest,
was a quiet little fellow and larry, the younger, was full of
mischief. I loved them both. Loving and caring for them and
keeping the church clean and the vestments in order and sometimes
helping Daddy in the Cemetary, my days were full. Paul and John
also helped Daddy in the cemetery until Paul graduated from high
school and John and Irma moved to Lodi.
John found work in a weaving mill. Irma, being a nurse, found
work in Bergen Pines Hospital in Paramus, New Jersey.
In 1952, Daddy became ill. A specialist diagnosed the cause of
his illness as gall stones. He underwent surgery in the hospital
in Sidney, N.Y. However, no gall stones were found. On Holy
Saturday night, Paul and John came home because of Daddy's illness.
I was sitting beside Daddy, praying the rosary and Paul was close
by. Daddy was on oxygen and since he was suffering much pain,
was sleeping under medication. He passed away quietly in his
sleep on Easter Tuesday, 1952.
-19-
Then the surgeon came and asked permission to look and see what
had caused his death, and that we gave. Later, he came back and
said that he had found Daddy's right kidney to be full of cancer.
The left kidney, now unable to carry the load, had ceased to
function. Daddy's death was due to uremic poisoning. He was
buried at St. Paul's Catholic Cementary beside our godmother,
Anne Houghtaling. This was fourteen years after his first
illness with kidney stones.
I had a friend (an ex-nun), who had bought a small farm in a
retired part of the country. I spent some time with her and some
of the time at home. Paul came home on furlough and he advised
me to leave Hancock and get involved in helping others, which I did.
Following up on an advertisement for help, I went to Letchworth Village
an institution for mentally retarded children; it was well-
organized and self-supporting, where the children (many of
them grown men and women) made everything they needed, including
clothing, shoes, baked goods and ran a store. It was run on a
military basis. I worked there for six months. Paul came to
visit me twice. The last time was on the eve of his departure
to go to Manchuria.
-20-
John and Irma were still in Lodi, N.J. After eight months, I
felt that Letchworth Village was not the place for me. On the
weekend I visited John and Irma at Lodi. Irma (an R.N.) was
working in Bergen Pines County Hospital, and with a recommendation
from her, I was given work as a nurses' aide. For two years I
worked there and studied nursing. 
In August of 1954, a school for practical nurses opened in
Paterson, N.J., connected with a Jewish memorial hospital. As
Bergen Pines was short of nurses, and I was doing the work of
a licensed nurse (without a license), the superintendant
encouraged me to enroll in the school for formal training as a
L.P.N., which I did. The age limit for entrance was fifty-five.
I would be fifty-five that November so I just made it!! The
required credits I needed to enter the school I owe to God's
Bible School, which they willingly gave me although I had become
a Catholic.
There were two or three other aides from Bergen Pines in the
class. I lived in the nurses' home and was given leave to
continue working four hours nights and studying eight hours per
day in school. I owe a debt of gratitude to Bergen Pines for
the opportunity they gave me. Of course, I received no salary
from the hospital but Paul sent me some money whenever he could.
John and his family had moved to Montana. (Ed: this actually
occurred in 1958).
In the fall of 1955, our class graduated. My godmother, Anne Houghtaling
came to my graduation. I was named valedictorian of the class but
I was too sick to stand up, so another nurse read my speech for me.
-21-
After graduation, I visited my brother Claude in North Carolina
for a month before going back to Bergen Pines. I had passed
my state board exam and had received my license to practice
nursing. The charge nurse in T.B. was allergic to streptomycin
and I was giving it for her when a priest (monsignor) came
visiting the patients. He asked me where I would be working.
I answered: "here in Bergen Pines I suppose". He said: "oh no,
Mother Columbia needs you at Holy Child School.
So I went to interview Mother Columbia. She received me with
open arms and I was duly installed as the nurse at Holy Child
Academy. This was a boarding school and parochial school combined,
run by the Sisters of the of the Holy Child, located in Suffern,
N.Y., which is a suburb of New York City. My field of labor
included the student body, the sisters, and lay help who lived
in the school.
Paul visited me there. It was Christmas vacation and some of
the students were going home for christmas. One girl, who came
from Spain was among that number. She had the misfortune to
fall down the stairs and break her leg, a few days before leaving
for Spain. It was my duty to take her to the airport and see her
off to Spain. I had never been to an airport and had no idea of
what it might be like. Fortunately, Paul was on furlough visiting
me. He carried the young lady down the stairs, bundled her into
the car and went to the airport with me. He did the neccessary
business and saw her off to Spain.
-22-
One evening a priest, named Father Hessler, came to Holy Child
Academy to lecture to the student body and my office was next
door to the hall. I sat near the doorway and listened to him.
He told about a cyclone that had swept over the peninsula of
Yucatan and of the destruction and sickness that was left in its
wake and he asked for a volunteer nurse. That awakened all of my
early desires to serve in the foreign mission field, so I talked
with him after the lecture was over. He accepted my offer to go
to Bacalar, in Yucatan, Mexico, when my contract expired in June.
I finished the school year at Holy Child School and between times,
I tried to study Spanish. But, I found that without a teacher,
I could make very little progress.
In June of 1955, the school year ended and I received a note
from one 'Brother Vergil', telling me to go to a certain house
on a certain street in New Orleans, Louisiana; and that, under
the door mat, I would find the key to the house; and that I should
go in and make myself at home, for they would be coming home soon.
I followed instructions and in due time I was enJoying the warm
welcome and gracious hospitality that one always finds in Brother
Don's associates (Brother Don does not wish to be called Father,
but following the precept of Jesus, he prefers to be called Brother).
The next day, I received a plane ticket to Merida, Yucatan, Mexico.
That was my first plane trip. I was thrilled with spiritual Joy
and a feeling of being at last where I had always wanted to be.
That was in June 1955. I was fifty-five and one-half years old.
-23-
Brother Vergil and family took me to the airport and saw me off to
Merida. It was a beautiful morning and my spirit was high to
rejoicing in the Lord. But, then we landed and on entering the
airport, I felt a shock of fear as, looking about, I saw several
soldiers with guns standing near the entrance. However, they
questioned no one. And I learned later on that Yucatan was under
military surveillance at that time.
I was to stay in Merida at the home of Dr. and Mrs. Rubio for a
time to study diagnosis, medication, and prognosis of tropical
diseases. I was much relieved when someone touched me and said:
"are you the nurse who is coming to Bacalar?". I said: "oh yes,
I am so glad you came!"
In the doctor's home I found a warm welcome and friends who were
eager to help me in the proJect which was now awaiting my arrival.
I remained with the Rubio family about a month and added knowledge
and wisdom to my scant supply of both. I also had my first taste
of Mexican beer when Mrs. Rubio took me to a beauty parlor for
both of us to have a permanent wave; mine to control my unruly hair!
It was late afternoon when we were finished at the beauty parlor
and we were hot, tired, and empty. I had not studied Spanish yet
so when Mrs. Rubio asked me if I would like a cold beer; having
never tried it before , I said: "I have not tasted beer, but I'll
try it".
-24-
So she ordered a glass of cold black beer for each of us. We
rested and enjoyed our cold drink, but when we would go on home,
we could not find our way and had to ask a policeman to help us.
My time with the Rubio family was both pleasant and profitable,
but it was time to move on to Bacalar.
The Rubios saw me off on an old plane which they called, "a
boxcar". The flight was good and at the airport in Chetumal,
an army Jeep was waiting for us. We began the 25 kilometers
of rough dirt road to Bacalar. The further we went the more
I felt lost in a great expanse of jungle: no town, no village,
not even a house! And a wave of homesickness swept over me.
Once at Bacalar, my fears vanished for I was met by a warm and
enthusiastic group of lay missionaries who welcomed me with open
arms. I learned later that each of them had his or her own
particular work to do. There were single people and families.
There were catechists and agriculturists, even an architect and
a president and bookkeeper and treasurer, who carried the burden
of all our financial problems. We were a tightly knit-together
little community over which Rev. Brother Donald Hessler presided
with loving authority. We began the day with community prayer
and mass, then breakfast, then work.
-25-
The Mayan people are responsive and pleasant to work with and
they gave me a warm welcome.
I had dinner that evening with Brother Don and he filled me in
on what would be my future work and also on community life, my
participation, and obligations. As a nurse, I had expected to
work under a doctor's guidance, but I learned fast and soon how
wrong I was.
Two days had not passed yet when Brother Don came to me at midnight
telling of a three month old baby (the smallest of twins) was dying
of pneumonia out in the bush. I said: "but Brother, she needs a
doctor!" He said: "to hell with that! You get your stuff together
and get out where as fast as you can, and do whatever you know
how to do. They will not blame you if she dies".
So I put together 8 cc's of water for injections into a vial of
penicilin. I took the sterilizing kit, a bottle of hot water
with a little milk and an eye dropper and followed Brother Don
through the jungle. In about a half an hour we came to a little
Mayan hut where our patient lay, limp and listless on her mother's
lap with eyes closed but still alive.
Brother Don sat at one end of the hut praying, while Mother and I
worked over the baby. We gave her 1 cc of penicillin. Then I put
a drop of water on her tongue every minute. After an hour she
opened her eyes and we knew that we were on our way to winning
that one. She is now a mother of a family. I felt that Brother
Don's prayers did more than both of us. That was the first of
many and I felt that I had, at last, found my nitch in the Lord's
vineyard.
-26-
Of course, there was the problem of language. We were all
studying Spanish each morning with a young priest and but our
many mistakes lit up the days with laughter.
One young mother brought her son to the clinic and after treating
him I gave the mother the 'follow-up' medication, explaining to
her how she should use it. After three days she came back saying
that her son was getting worse. I asked: "the medicine?" she
replied: "I took it all, just as you told me."
When I went to the corner store for some soda crackers, I asked
for a dozen soda hens instead. I knew nothing about tortillas
and on my first trip to one of the many pueblos, when we sat
down on the slab plank to eat our breakfast at another plank
that served as a table, I did not know how to eat soup with a
tortilla; so, as there was no knife, fork or spoon, I sat there
pondering over what to do. Promptly there appeared the chief
catechist at my elbow. He took a tortilla, deftly rolled it up
in his hands and made a spoon of it and showed me how to eat soup
with it.
The young man was Carlos Sosa, with a beautiful personality and
very spiritual. He now is and has been for years, the director
of a large college, teaching advanced english, social and economic
studies. The college is located in Mexico City. From it Carlos
and his family reach out to outlaying districts around Mexico City,
sharing their wealth of love and spiritual and economic well being.
-27-
About a week had passed until Brother Don announced that we were
to go on what was my first out-mission trip. It was one of many,
for there were some twenty-six little settlements of pueblitos
scattered through the jungle. We went on horses or more often
on mules, with the men cutting a path through the Jungle. I went
with them, carrying my medical kit on the saddle horn. The pueblos
are only small clearings surrounded by huts.
The Mayan house is oval in shape and is made of poles placed
upright in the ground, very close together, and covered with a
thatch roof of guano (pronounced wano-straw). The furniture is
very simple: a stove made of an oil drum with a door cut in the
front and a hole in the top at the back for smoke to escape; a
table, a wide plank, long or short, according to the size of the
family. For chairs, another bench lower than the table. There
are no beds but there is a wide hammock for Papa and Mama and a
smaller one for each child. There is a row of hooks along each
side of the hut, on which the hammocks are hung stretched across
the room at night and hung up on one side of the room during the
day.
On my first mission with the group we visited a small pueblo a
few kilometers up the lagoon from Bacalar. There was a small
school in which we were to celebrate mass at a small table which
served as the teacher's desk. I put my medical kit on the back
bench and prepared to care for the sick after mass.
-28-
Brother Don celebrated the mass, the catechists prepared the
people and Brother Bon heard confessions. I was impressed with
the joyfulness, the spiritual fellowship and the efficiency and
teamwork of the laymen working together.
Each of us spent the night with a family there. For me it was
the first of many such journeys, on horse or mule for hours
through the jungle but, always surrounded by the strong, loving
fellowship of dedicated brothers and sisters in Christ.
After working for a year or so covering the seventy-odd kilometers
of the parish, it occurred to me that I should take one girl from
each pueblo and teach them a brief course of "first aid" and then
give them a package of supplies which they knew how to use and
send them back to their pueblos to help their own people. Brother
Don and the group were like-minded. So, on my visits to the
pueblos, I was looking in each one for the girl who would best fit
into such a program. The first one I found when we visited
Setentaun (71). She was the only child of Mr. and Mrs. Flota.
They all spoke english as they had come from British Honduras. I
was impressed by their knowledge-ability and asked her parents if
they would permit her to come to Bacalar to study with me. After
explaining the program to them, they gave their consent and I had
my first student.
Glenda Lucia Flota became the president of the girls' school, a
group of girls, age 11-15, began studying the three Rs, plus
first aid, music, and theology.
-29-
Across the river Hond in Guatemala, the people were felling the
tall pines in the tops of which the yellow fever mosquitos live.
When those insects rose into the air from the fallen trees, the
wind blew them across the river and into our territory. Many
people were stricken with yellow fever. One of our group died.
I was three months recuperating from the same. However, one of
the group was able to take care of the of the school until I could
function again.
Sisters Ruth and Miriam came to visit me when I was ill with
yellow fever. It was harvest time and everyone was serving their
guests atoli of new corn. Sister Ruth had been over-served with
atoli so when Brother Don took all of us to an out-mission, Sister
was ready to excuse herself from drinking more de mais nuevo.
She wanted to say: "no tengo hambre" (I am not hungry) but she
said: "no tengo hombre" (I have no man). But she learned spanish
much more quickly than I did.
Paul came to visit and stayed with us awhile. Maryknoll missions
gave him $1,000 with which to build a dining room and recreation
hall on the girls school. It was his first job as an architect.
It was good and even boasted of a built-in fish pool which the
girls populated with fish and turtles from the lagoon. Paul was
then a student at the University of the Americas in Mexico City.
-30-
During our last year in Bacalar, a priest from Oakland, California
visited us and I talked with him about where I would be going when
I left bacalar, and 'al fin' (finally), he invited me to come and
work in his parish. He is Father John Garcia. I accepted the
invitation.
We all went back to the states: Brother Don to tour the U.S.A.,
the rest to their home towns, and I to St. Mary's church at the
corner of 8th and 10th street in Oakland, Cal. It was in the
poorest section of the city, then known as slums. There I visited
all the people, had prayer meeting where possible, informed Brother
John of the condition of the sick and poor whom we helped as best
we could.
I served as vice president of the Legion of Mary and conducted a
boys and girls club. Brother John gave a class of doctrine at
each session. I also worked part time in a chain of nursing homes
as the parish could not pay all of my expenses, I also worked in
the U.S. census of 1960. Sis came to visit me at almost the end
of my stay in california. I had been working as a volunteer
medical missionary without a salary or financial backing but now
at 62 years, I had social security. So armed with $440 per month
and having received an invitation from Brother Don, I went back to
Mexico.
Paul was still at Mexico City College and he found an apartment
for me in Acapilco, near the college. I was working with Brother
Don again.
-31-
I met a friend of Paul's, Dr. Carlos Trevino, an army doctor.
Also, I met Dr. Yrizzar Lasso, the chief of health and welfare for
the federal district of Mexico. He was to be my chief, guide, and
helper for the next 30 years. I was 'nurse-in-chief' of a large
clinic for alcoholics anonymous, of which there were many in Mexico
City. It was there that I did my first 'operation' on a little
girl who had an abcess on her throat. Carlos could not bear to
cut flesh nor draw blood on anyone so he insisted that I take care
of the abcess.
It was there that Glenda Lucia, (who had been with her family
during my absence) came back to me. She wanted education so we
searched all over the D.F. (Federal District of Mexico) for a
school where she could finish high school, but we found none.
Meanwhile, I became quite ill and the doctor and Brother Don
agreed that I should leave the city and move to a better climate.
So Brother Don sent me to work with the Otumi indians in the
valley of the Mesquital, in the state of Hidalgo. Brother Alan
MacDougall took Glenda and myself with our earthly belongings to
Panales, a pueblo in the municipality of Ixmiquilmiquilpan.
There I was to work for the next 16 years.
I presented my credentials and letters of recommendation from
Dr. Lasso and Brother Don to Dr. Borbullo (the chief of health
and welfare) and was duly installed as 'nurse in charge' for the
Otomi tribe. Glenda was my most efficient companion and helper.
She still wanted to continue her studies but we found it difficult
to locate a school.
-32-
Finally we heard of a beauty school in Pachuca. She decided
to become a beautician, which she did.
In Panales, I found abundant use for all the talents that God
had given me. Panales is a larger pueblo (according to the
average) and there were five manzanas or little settlements
scattered throughout the cerros (low hills) around it. There
is a fairly large school, a park, a church, a small courthouse.
Here the judge and his sub-delegates meet out justice and make
decisions on all issues concerning Panales and its its five
manzanas. Panales, the judge told me, means panel of honey.
The Tula river runs by Panales. It is the only stream of water
in the valley and it does not empty into any other stream because
the people use all of it. Its waters are conducted by pipes,
tunnels, and ditches to most of the pueblos throughout the valley.
The older generation at that time spoke the Otomi dialect but
the younger ones and many of the older ones either spoke or
or understood spanish.
A two room house was given to us for the clinic. Glenda took
care of the house and helped with everything. We conducted
clinics in nearly all of the pueblos throughout the valley and
we visitied the manzanas surrounding each village.
-33-
The U.S. embassy loaned us moving picture tapes for teaching
hygiene and agriculture and a priest in pachuca loaned us his
projecter. Some of the larger villages had their own light
plants for electric lights and we gave lectures with the aid of
this equipment until at cardinal we burned out the projector
because the light plant was too strong for the projector.
Some of the graduates from the University of Mexico school of
medicine were sent to the valley to complete their two years of
social service required of them before they could practice on
their own. It was thus that a young doctor named Jose Martinez
offered to come to our clinic every two weeks to care for those
cases which were too complicated for me to treat.
He proved to be a fine person as well as a good doctor. He spent
some of his spare time with us and so became a family friend as
Paul also spent his spare time with us. Later the doctor married
and then we had Rosalinda as a friend. A few years later they
became the god-parents of all three of my grand-children. Glenda
graduated from beauty school and in 1966 she and Paul were married.
They were married in the old original church in Panales. I played
the wedding march for them. Padre Lino Gusani celebrated the mass
and we held the reception in our one room and and small kitchen in
Panales. The Otomi people gave them a warm and hearty reception
with barbeque and whatever they had.
-34-
Of course, it was understood that there were to be no alcoholic
beverages at the reception. However, the judge's nephew Apolinar
Quiterio passed a crate of beer through the garden window. No one
got drunk.
Paul and Glenda tarried in Mexico for some time and their first
child, Patricia Ann, was born in Ixmiquilpan, the municipality of
which Panales is a suburb. Later, Paul went to the states with
$5.00 in his pocket and began as a learner in steel construction,
building out-door theaters. He advanced until he became the owner
of a business known as "Screen Towers International". The family
together built a beautiful home in the township of Rogers, Texas.
I remained in Panales where we continued working as the medical
and service out reach for much of the Valley of the Mesquital.
Padre Lino furnished large quantities of beans and corn for us to
distribute. The Department of Health and Welfare helped also.
Through Dr. Lasso's good offices, some doctors gave us boxes of
medicine and equipment free, especially oral intravenous liquid
used in the treatment of infantile diaherrea, of which (I was told)
50,000 children under five years of age died each year for lack of
proper food and care.
Padres Lino and Olivieri did wonderful things for the Otomi.
Padre Lino built three factories, one to process marble from the
black marble mountains of which much is seen on the 20 storied
buildings in Mexico City. Next he built a dried milk plant and
-35-
then a meat packing plant, all in the municipality of Ixmiquilpan.
Last of all he constructed a modern plant for raising hogs. He
gave each of his employees a pair of thoroughbred hogs. The
first litter of which came back to home base for "recycling".
We owed most of the food which we distributed to the starving in
the cerros to Father Olivieri and Father Lino.
In November of 1969, I went to Syracuse where I was hospitalized
for major surgery. After that Rev. Mother Viola allowed me to go
with Sister Ruth to recuperate in Peru. There I rested and re-
gained the strength and vitality I so much needed.
The good sisters accepted me with grace and holy fellowship and
soon I was able to be of some assistance and not a burden only.
Then came the earthquake of May 1970. When the sisters, all
except Sister Gabriel, who was ill at that time, went up to the
mountains with the rescue teams to the scene of the disaster,
Sister Gabriel and I changed bed sheets and dished up rice and
rolls to the rescue workers who passed through Paramonga on their
way to and from the mountains.
Some time after, Sister Ruth and I (with permission and aid of
the good doctors of Paramonga) held "make-shift clinics" for the
earthquake victims who came down from the mountains for help.
In the fall of 1970, Paul sent for me to come home becauuse
Glenda was ill. So, I left peru to go home to help them until
Glenda recovered from her illness and was able to care for herself.
-36-
I went back to Ixmiquilpan and Panales, where I continued much
as before, except for two new projects.
First, there was near Ixmiquilpan a linguistic institute conducted
by a methodist minister and his wife. I wanted to learn the Otomi
dialect, since the majority of our people spoke Otomi. I became
a student again. I found the Otomi dialect difficult to learn,
and although I did learn enough to say: "hello" and "good-bye"
and to ask for my tortillas, I never succeeded in mastering the
dialect.
With the help of many good people, especially Padre Lino, Mary
Lou and a colony called the "arbollera", we began a program of
food conservation, which continued for the rest of our stay in
Mexico. We had observed that during the harvest time, much fruit
and vegetables grown on the river flats were placed beside the
roads to be sold the whomever would buy and that much was wasted
for want of buyers. We saw also that the people knew almost
nothing about preserving and storing food for winter consumption.
With eleven local women, a room with a table, stove and cookpots,
we started canning fruit and vegetables which we bought from the
fields at a very low price. We also gathered wild greens that
grew in the corn fields and canned them. Mary Lou of Mexico City
and the arbolera gave us fruit jars and crates of vegetables and
-37-
fruit which we canned and (as the women said), "stored away for
winter".
We called ourselves a "cooperative". The women worked with a
will and at harvest times end they all shared of the fruits of
their labor. This food conservation program I have promoted
since that time wherever I have served the Lord in Mexico.
My grandmother had a spinning wheel which I had used at home.
Taking this for a model, I built a wheel. We spun some of the
wool which the people were selling for 100 pesos per bag full
and knitted sweaters, socks, and caps for everyone.
Having worked in a weaving mill and after using two hand-operated
looms, I decided to make a loom that I never could have done
without the aid of the very efficient and understanding judge,
Sr. Vicente Quiterio. We first made a small loom for weaving
istly (sic), then a large one for weaving blankets.
Some families had kept a few hens, but when they all died of
coxidiosis, they gave up trying to raise any more hens. I pur-
chased vaccines and using needles and a syringe borrowed from
the clinic, (I asked everyone to bring all their live fowl to
me, which they did), and everyone learned how to use vaccine
to save their poultry.
In all of these activities, we did not neglect prayer. In the
clinic, in homes, at prayer meetings, and at work: the word of
God must be first. Brother Don came at times to give us the
sacraments, his teachings and his blessing. We attended mass
in Ixmiquilpan. So ended 16 years of service in the Valley of
the Mesquital.
-38-
On December 17, 1979, Sister Ruth had sustained terrible injuries
in an accident in Peru. Six months later, the sisters were bring-
ing her back to Syracuse to be hospitalized in Saint Joseph's
Franciscan Hospital. Paul, Glenda and I went immediately to
Syracuse to visit her. Being ill, I too, was admitted to the same
hospital for major surgery. We were patients on the same floor.
Dr. Bernard Piskor (peacecore), of blessed memory, performed a
miracle of surgery for me by which I have remainded alive.
After two months in that hospital, our beloved former Mother
General, Mother Viola, loved, comforted and cared for me during
a difficult month of recuperation. Her holy patience and loving
kindness have followed me through two decades. One day I asked
Dr. Piskor if I would ever be able to return to Mexico. He said:
(and I quote) "you damm sure will go back to Mexico and you'll
work another ten years, or what do you think I operated on you for?"
Sis and I had visited each other almost daily and dear Sister
Donata and others helped me through the painful days with their
comforting presence; and a good Franciscan priest brought me Holy
Communion daily.
-39-
After a month with Mother Viola, I was ready to move on. Sister
Jeremiah took me to Dr. Piskor's office for the last time. He
checked everything out and then said: "Scoot !!"
A few days later Wilfred and Frances took me to their home in
Elmira, N.Y. After a brief visit there, I visited John and Kathy
in Idaho for a month.
I then flew back to Mexico where Brother Don met me saying: "You
are welcome here, sick or well". Now at 82 years, I began a new
experience, in a new place, and with different people. I stayed
at first with one family and then another becoming acquainted with
the people of the parish. Later, I rented a one-room and kitchen
apartment in the poorest section of the colony. The factories
there brought many new families looking for work.
I held prayer meetings in their homes, doctrine classes in my
apartment, and later on preparation classes for those who wished
to be married in the church.
As always, I wished to help the most needy first, some of whom
were new-comers living with their families of four or five children
with no furniture in a one room apartment. I took Brother Don to
visit some of those families and he (with the help of the community)
relieved much of their suffering.
-40-
We had the 'first' first communion class in the history of that
place, and they made their first communion with Brother Don
officiating. There were six children whose fathers and mothers
wished to be married in the church so that they could receive the
sacraments and also bring their children up in the church. These
we prepared to receive the sacrament of matrimony and they were
married (all together) at a sunday morning mass celebrated by
Brother Don.
There, for the first time, the young people presented a Christmas
play which refreshed the faith of many. Saint Michael's is a
large colony located in the hills above the Ampliacion de los
Reyes. From there and from four other colonies there came couples
who wished to be married in the church. I visited those colonies,
staying two or three days in each one. At the end of four months
of preparation 30 couples were married at the church in Ampliacion,
Brother Don celebrating the mass. There followed other groups,
bringing the the total up to well over 100 couples.
About that time, a man named Mario Carrota came to visit us. He
told us about his work in Via Carbon and the very poor 'ijidistas'
living in the 11 colonies above, scattered through the mountains
around Via Carbone. He was forming cooperatives in two colonies.
I decided to go and do whatever I could to help the poor there.
I stayed nine months in San Isidro, which is the last of nine
colonies scattered along a rough dirt road going up into the
mountains far above Via Carbon.
-41-
There the road ends and the first object to greet the eye is the
building which was intended to be the center of health and welfare
on the left. That was to be my headquarters for the next nine months.
The president of Via Carbone had given me a letter of petition and
introduction (first, to health authorities and then to the colony
of San Isidro Labrador). I was duly installed as the one in charge
of the health center. The public school was across the road from
the clinic so I met with the principal and teachers in order to get
some orientation and to seek their cooperation in an over-all health
program for the community. They were ready and willing to cooperate
and we formulated a simple but efficient plan to help care for the
most urgent needs of the community. I learned that the children
came to school without breakfast and ate nothing until 4 p.m., so
we gave them each a cup of hot chocolate milk and a roll each morning.
to prevent anemia, we gave to the pregnant and nursing mothers
sufficient for one glass of milk each night and morning.
I was supplied with medicines free by the health center in Via
Carbone, adn Dr. Enrique, also of Via Carbone treated the patients
that I sent to him, free of charge. The food conservation program
was received with enthusiasm and both men and women participated
in it.
-42-
The community of Ampliacion los Reyes sent one or two members to
help us and as companions they rotated, so I was not alone too
much. They also helped the community by teaching doctrine and
visiting the people.
Some of the young men built a house for one family, which was
homeless. Senor Miguel, a carpenter, taught the men carpentry.
Brother Don and also the pastor at Via Carbone came to celebrate
mass. We had a first communion class also for the first time in
the history of that colony. Thus we spent almost a year in San
Isidro when illness made it necessary for me to return to the
community in Los Reyes.
This mission was difficult and I could have accomplished little
were it not for the generous support of many people, especially
the communtiy of Los Reyes, the doctors and the field nurses of
the health center at Via Carbon, Senor Mario Carrota, Mary Lou,
the arbolera and a few others of God's holy people.
Back in the Ampliacion, I continued much the same as before,
teaching theology, preparation for marriage, pre-noviasco to
girls ages 11-15, handicrafts, cooking and baking.
Tom Henry, a new recruit to the community, was learning carpentry
and with his knowledge and help we constructed a loom with which
some of the women made various articles for sale.
John Martis constructed for us two units for drying fruits and
vegetables which had twenty-four square feet of drying surface
each. We supplied several families with dried food including
dried beef.
-43-
Later Mario Carrota purchased all of our equipment for 1000 kilos
of dried milk which I needed for the program of extra nutrition
for pregnant and nursing mothers.
At a certain time in my missionary career Brother Don took me to
a large gathering of people who were seeking the baptism with the
Holy Spirit. There I too received the baptism of the Holy Spirit
with the signs which followed; and he it is who has done in me
whatever has been acceptable to God our father and our Lord Jesus
Christ. Amen.
Having done all of these things I say: "I am an unprofitable
servant".
For you, Sister Ruth Esther Sherman, O.S.F., my beloved daughter,
I have written these brief notes in gratitude for the innumerable
blessings that your holy life, love and sufferirng have bestowed
upon me.
Mom.
Editor's Note: There were a few points in this narrative that
were not entirely clear; the following is my query to my aunt,
Sister Ruth Esther Sherman, and her reply:
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Jim,
Grandma Dutcher died on Good Friday of 1933. [Editor's Note:
this is /not/ correct; she died March 30, 1934. Refer to the
death certificate for Bessie Ann Clemens].
The name is Densie (not Denise) Beattle (not Beedle, bug -
but we did nickname her Densie "beedlebug".
Your Uncle Claude became a Railroad Engineer. Mom and her brother
were trying to track each other down for years and finally when
Mom was working in the Scintilla plant one of her cousins brought a
letter from him that had been mailed to the old homestead in Afton.
N.B.: This cousin was most likely 1919 Homer Edwin Dutcher.
Claude and his lovely wife and two children lived in Asheville,
North Carolina.
That was during World War I as the factory (Bendix Scintilla) where
Mom worked was making parts for war planes and such.
This is it for tonight. See you down the line.
Love and Prayers, Aunt Mary (Sister Ruth Esther Sherman)
> -----------------------------------------------------------
>
> On Wed, 16 Feb 2000 11:15:18 -0800 (PST) James Sherman
>
> Dear Aunt Sister Ruth,
>
> I have been editing Grandma Bessie's autobiography and will be
> making it available on a website soon.
>
> I noticed that Grandma talks about Denise Beedle, and about her
> mother being old and sick, then it is apparent a little further on
> that her mother has died, however she does not mention it per se.
>
> Do you recall what year this would have been ?
>
> Also, she says early on that her brother Claude disappears and
> was not heard from again, then much later mentions meeting up
> with a brother from North Carolina. Do you know anything about
> that ?
>
> Thanks,
> Nephew #1
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