MY RECOLLECTIONS OF RAPHAEL CLEMENT (Dad)
My first memories at all begin in the state of Washington. The following are glimpses into those that involve dad. I doubt I've got them all out, but this is a start.
These memories are listed in no particular order. In most cases I can't even remember the order.
Dad loved soft ice-cream cones. Both he and Grandpa loved 'em and we often walked over to the drug store to get 'em. On one such occasion on the way back, Dad told me to quit kicking rocks or I'd scuff and wear out my shoes. That's the same drugstore where I got my tongue stuck on the edge of the ice-cream freezer.
Vehicles I remember were a Chrysler, a Plymouth, a white pick- up, and several Nash's. For some reason the big black '42 Chrysler Royale holds the fondest memories for me. I was along on several trips in it. On one such trip he didn't want to stop for bathroom breaks any more than necessary because he was trying to set a new record for getting to Utah, so, since a little boy's is little, he told me to wee wee in a pop bottle and then throw it out the window. I loved luxuriating in the back seat all to myself. I'd lay on the floor and hear and feel the hummmmm of the road, or up in the back window ledge. Later on I leased that right to Susan.
Another trip he must have thrown me in the car for company, or because Mother made him. He had to go to Utah by himself. I remember cafes where we would have lunch. What a new world that was for me! I learned that one of his favorites was breaded halibut. To this day it's one of mine.
One year the Columbia river flooded over the road to Kennewick. We drove over to where the road went into the river with him singing "Old Man River". I remember him singing on trips to Sunnyside too.
Dad liked Nashes because, for one thing, the seats folded back all the way flat so you could lean against the back seat and stretch your legs out (or sleep in it when camping). Once, we went to the drive-in movie and sat like that. I fell asleep. It was cool.
When we had the white pick-up, we'd go gather driftwood along the Columbia river and cut it up down in the basement on the table saw.
Dad was an integral part in the growth of the Church in that area and was very involved in many ways. In the earlier days, when I was still quite little, I remember he and a few others going to the drugstore after Sunday School, sitting in a booth, and having what they called "Sunday School Conference" with ice-cream sundaes.
I was along, mostly for getting in the way, when he and the older boys got hedge starts from an old hedge somewhere in town, and planted them around the edge of our yard. It became my job to trim that thing eventually.
I took violin lessons for awhile, but he made me stop because I wouldn't practice enough. Same with steel guitar.
Watching the Stake House go up, with Dad and Grandpa and everybody else involved, was quite interesting.
I got to go along on a deer hunt up in Colville. The thing I remember the most was him telling me to shut my mouth or the bugs would fly in. I guess I was riding along with my mouth open the way kids sometimes do. I must have made some noises when I slept, too, because I remember him telling me to cut it out. So I pretty much tried to stay awake so I wouldn't make noise. Bud and DeVon, I think, were along too. I was scared to death I'd shoot one of them or that a giant stag would appear and take me out.
We took a trip to Mt. Rainier and played in the snow. Vacation each year was a camping trip. I have a faint recollection of Beverly chasing a bear with a broom.
Dad had a lot to do with the Yakima Indians, etc., and I was along on several occasions. One was dinner, and I was sternly instructed to eat the bear meat whether I liked it or not. It wasn't too good, but I think I got most of it down. Chief Jobe Charlie, all decked out in his parade regalia, was quite a sight for a small boy. I was in his tepee, and the whole thing was awesome! Once we attended a pow-wow as guests of honor. Drums and chanting and dancing in a lodge lit only with firelight. It was incredible! I was given to understand that few whites had ever seen it.
La Grande, Oregon. Dad's uncle Clarence Clement operated a gold mine there. I was just let roam free with a .22 and told not to get in the way. There was a bunk house which I remember very well because I tumbled off the top bunk during the night, in my sleeping bag, and just kept right on sleeping after I briefly ascertained that I was all right. The sourdough pancakes were wonderful!
Dad talked of getting a farm to retire to. He took me to a few possible places. One overlooked the Yakima or the Columbia, I don't remember which. Another was in McMinnville, Oregon. I really hoped he would get that one. It was a wonderful place, with forest and open areas.
He built me a wonderful hobby-horse. It consisted of a large 4 post frame, the two-seater horse hanging from chains. It was the envy of the neighborhood. I think it must have been seen as dangerous, because it didn't last long before he took it down. That reminds me - he made a grocery cart out of my tricycle, I think for Beverly.
Whenever I got a lickin' he'd talk to me about it as soon as I was through blubbering. He'd usually take me down the basement where there were plenty of sticks and my carrying on wouldn't bother the neighbors. I'd generally wet my pants before we got all the way down the stairs.
Dad and several other men owned some beehives. They referred to themselves as the Bee Board. The hives were just north of Richland and I remember putting on the mask and gloves and blowing smoke into the hives when we took the honeycombs out. They went into a machine at Dan Smith's house that whirled the honey out. Chewing honeycomb was wonderful. The same bunch had wonderful times at our house playing Crokinole. They got pretty noisy.
When Dad was made Patriarch the day they organized the Stake everybody was kind of stunned. I sat with him on the stand sometimes. He'd always pull candy out of a pocket for me. Actually, for us. I'd sit in the stairwell and listen to him give blessings. It impressed me deeply - I felt the witness of the Spirit and I knew the Church was true and that the Restoration had important meaning for the whole world ultimately. From that time on I was hungry for knowledge. He gave me my blessing when I was 12. He would die the following year.
As he got very sick, I had to help him use the bathroom on occasion. It was sad to see how emaciated he was. He would talk to me about the future, telling me to become an airline pilot, but that whatever I did, I should learn to do something with my hands as well.
We'd make a soft bed in the Nash so he could, even though very sick, go over and supervise the building of the Kennewick house. We had earlier built a house in Pasco and sold it.
On the way to Kennewick, we'd often stop at Larry's for a nice, big, delicious, soft ice-cream cone.
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