Clarence School

Technically, this picture isn't about Macon. It's about Clarence, a small town about 15 miles east of Macon. But I couldn't resist it.

I lived in Clarence for about 5 years before my family moved to Macon. It was where I went to first grade. I have many fond memories of the town – all filtered through the mind of a six-year-old.

You see, Clarence was my "Mayberry". And I was "Opie".

The town was small enough and safe enough that my brother and I walked by ourselves everywhere we went. We walked to school by ourselves. We walked downtown by ourselves. We walked to the railroad tracks by ourselves. We explored the water tower by ourselves.

Looking back on it, I now realize we were never much more than five blocks from home. But to us, it might as well have been a different universe.

The world was much larger back then. And it was much more fragmented. That meant that even a small town like Clarence had a big school. With a big, beautiful bell tower on top to call the students to class. And that school, apparently, had its own postcard.

And what an interesting picture this is. Although most of the other postcards I own are just pictures of buildings, this one includes many of the students and teachers from the school.

Look closely. What are they doing? It looks like many of them are balancing books on their heads. Perhaps in an homage to the etiquette training used at the time to encourage students to walk with their backs straight.

It's an interseting message, too. One that speaks of a "protracted" preaching meeting. I remember those meetings from the early 1960s. They would last two weeks – maybe longer if we could persuade the "evangelist" to stay in town. Our busy schedules and short attention spans wouldn't stand for that today. But to the writer of the postcard, it was mentioned as casually as the laundry and the weather.

Subject:	Clarence Public School
Caption:	Public School, Clarence, Mo.
Date:	August 25, 1909 7-PM
From:	Jada (?)
To:	Mr. C. L. Liftridge Adair Ill
Message:	Hello Charley. How are you by this time? I am feeling fine. The folks are all well. We have washed and ironed. Went to preaching last night. Protracted meeting is going on at Mission. I haven't saw Jim yet. It is sprinkling rain here. Now looks like we might have a good one. For lack of space must close. With love from Jada.
Notes:	Technically, this picture isn't about Macon. It's about Clarence, a small town about 15 miles east of Macon. But I couldn't resist it. I lived in Clarence for about 5 years before my family moved to Macon. It was where I went to first grade. I have many fond memories of the town – all filtered through the mind of a six-year-old. You see, Clarence was my "Mayberry". And I was "Opie". The town was small enough and safe enough that my brother and I walked by ourselves everywhere we went. We walked to school by ourselves. We walked downtown by ourselves. We walked to the railroad tracks by ourselves. We explored the water tower by ourselves. Looking back on it, I now realize we were never much more than five blocks from home. But to us, it might as well have been a different universe. The world was much larger back then. And it was much more fragmented. That meant that even a small town like Clarence had a big school. With a big, beautiful bell tower on top to call the students to class. And that school, apparently, had its own postcard. And what an interesting picture this is. Although most of the other postcards I own are just pictures of buildings, this one includes many of the students and teachers from the school. Look closely. What are they doing? It looks like many of them are balancing books on their heads. Perhaps in an homage to the etiquette training used at the time to encourage students to walk with their backs straight. It's an interseting message, too. One that speaks of a "protracted" preaching meeting. I remember those meetings from the early 1960s. They would last two weeks – maybe longer if we could persuade the "evangelist" to stay in town. Our busy schedules and short attention spans wouldn't stand for that today. But to the writer of the postcard, it was mentioned as casually as the laundry and the weather.