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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
Two Small-Town Girls Encounter Life in the City, Part 1
You’ve got to be taught/To hate and fear, You’ve got to be taught/From year to year, It’s got to be drummed/In your dear little ear You’ve got to be carefully taught. You’ve got to be taught to be afraid/ Of people whose eyes are oddly made, And people whose skin … Read More
The Seasons of Our Growing Up, Part 3
My nephew, John Jones, who is seven years younger than I compared our childhood with that of his grandchildren: Reality vs. virtuality is the main difference. Almost all of our games were played in the “real” world. Kick the can requires real kids kicking a real can on a real … Read More
The Seasons of Our Growing Up, Part 2
The tastes of childhood: bread and butter with sugar on it . . . homemade lemonade . . . Mother’s strawberry pie. . . watermelon which could be had only in summer . . . The sounds of Summer: The strawberry man singing out “Strawberries, Straw BERRIES” as he came … Read More
The Seasons of Our Growing Up
This isn’t just an attack of nostalgia. It illustrates the differences between the lives of children then and now. The changing seasons determined our activities. On a warm day of Spring, Wanda Frazier and I would get out our steel, ball-bearing sidewalk skates, and use a key that we wore … Read More
Friends Forever: Wanda
“As our past led us to the future, our present leads us to the past. Friends are the weavers of the treasures in the trunks stored in our mental attics.” My niece, Barbara Gard, sent the above about my column “There’s No Friend Like an Old Friend.” While I was … Read More