Walking Down Memory Lane

As we take my memory tour through the village of Curryville, we come to the first residence after Burget’s Garage, the Gartland house. Eva and Harold Gartland had a son, Gary. They had a ping pong table on their second floor. I liked Gary but wasn’t sure about being alone with a boy I liked, so didn’t go there too often even though I loved to play ping pong.

A road went back beside the Gartlands to the Hinish home and orchard. They had four boys, Dean, Bernard, Joe and Wayne. I liked Bernard. He was cute and had a great sense of humor.

Back to the main road, the next place was Mr. and Mrs. Chester Smith. They had a small meat market. Each Halloween, as a prank, a wagon or something would be put on their long and low accommodating roof. I knew who helped put it there and felt guilty about that, but also thought it was a pretty clever tradition that just had to be done.

The next house was the home of Elwood and Helen Metzler. They had a big meat market behind their house. They had three children, Durbin, Gloria and Cynthia. I babysat them and cleaned the house while Helen went to market each Saturday in Altoona. She put roasts in the oven for our lunch. Often it was stuffed pig stomach. Mother dampened and ironed the girl’s clothes which came to her washed and starched. The dresses were fancy with lots of ruffles. They paid mother with meat from their market. I would pick out the meat. I liked to see Elwood slice the meat, especially liver. Helen was the music director for our church and we had great choirs. The Elwood Metzler family lived next to the Curryville Church of the Brethren.

On April 12, 1950, that church building burned down. I stood with many others on the Metzler lawn and watched this terrible event. Everyone was trying to comfort me and each other. This was my church. Everyone says “my church,” because we are the church. That building was special because it housed “our church.” At least that is how I understood it. This was where my Sunday School teachers taught me amazing things.

While the church was being rebuilt, we held church and Sunday School at our high school, Morrison Cove Sr. High School. Mother was my Sunday School teacher there and our class was held in the Superintendent’s office. That was where I learned that my mother was a great teacher and she knew the Bible. Sometimes she would give Chalk Talks in church. By the end of the talk, she would have a beautiful picture which made the story come alive. In many ways, mother and all my teachers at Curryville made “the story” come alive.

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