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Author Biography
Rose Mary Clarke writes a weekly column about life experiences.
Rose Mary Clarke started writing columns for the Knightstown Banner when she was in high school. A graduate of Knightstown High School, Ball State and Indiana University, she taught French at Franklin Central High School and Howe High School. Her husband, daughter Victoria and she lived in Irvington for many years. She and Bill currently live in Warren Park.
She was a Realtor for over twenty years and returned to writing columns about twelve years ago. Her weekly column that also appears in the Weekly View is about life experiences — travel, nature, the arts and the funny/sad events of the past. She is an avid reader and enjoys writing, cooking and eating good food.
She has published a book of some of her columns that is called Ramblings: A Stroll Down Memory Lane with Henry David Thoreau.
Rose Mary Clarke passed away October 26, 2017.
Rose Mary Clarke’s Story Archive
Granny’s Sewing Basket — Continued
Eric Cox, publisher of “The Knightstown Banner,” printed a lovely picture that he took of a full Moon above a soy bean field. As well as watching sunrises and sunsets, I am a Moon watcher. Last week a “super” Moon was the closest to the Earth that it’s been for … Read More
Granny’s Sewing Basket
The shadows are lengthening for me. The twilight is here. My days of old have vanished, tone and tint. They have gone glimmering through the dreams of things that were. Their memory is one of wondrous beauty, watered by tears, and coaxed and caressed by the smiles of yesterday. I … Read More
The Octobers of Yesteryear, Part 4
Ain’t God good to Indiana? Folks, a feller never knows Just how close he is to Eden Till, sometime, he ups an’ goes Seekin’ fairer, greener pastures Than he has right here at home . . . Ain’t God good to Indiana? Other spots may look as fair, But they … Read More
The Octobers of Yesteryear, Indian Summer
From his pipe the smoke ascending Filled the sky with haze and vapor, Filled the air with dreamy softness, Touched the rugged hills with smoothness, Brought the tender Indian Summer . . . — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Oh dear! Bill just read this and said, “Rather than ‘native American,’ you … Read More
The Halloweens of Yesteryear, Part 2
The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn, And the raspin’ of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn; . . . The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed; The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover over-head!— O, it sets my hart a-clickin’ … Read More