Grandfather Henry Buck
By Eleanor Buck Wolf
My grandfather, Henry Buck, was a farmer, the sixth generation of a farming, fishing and shipping family that had lived in Wethersfield since before 1640.
Walking to the farm with my father (John S. Buck) to do the early morning chores, I loved the sounds of the roosters crowing, the horses and wagons going to market. I watched the cows being milked in the big barn, and the horses fed and watered before I went into the washroom to help strain milk into cream rising pans or into pails for neighbors to pick up.
Prayers always proceeded the large farm breakfast. The family, Grandfather’s hired hands and Hannah, Grandmother’s cook, gathered in the South Room. Grandfather read from the big family bible and then gave a prayer as we all knelt before our chairs.
To me, Grandfather, with his snowy, white hair and long beard fit my picture of God. His gentle, quiet manners, his farm stories, his kindly treatment of the farm animals as well as his employees, the orderliness of the farm—no equipment was ever left out to rust—gave me a lasting impression of what it meant to be good.
At the breakfast table, discussion of the weather, with its conditions determining the farm schedule for the day, taught me how dependent we are on circumstances beyond our control. Grandfather revered nature in all of its aspects. He told me stories of storms at sea, of voyages to the Islands, of the blizzard of ’88 when they had to tunnel through the snow to the barn to feed the animals, of the great floods and severe droughts; as well as, stories of the good years when the ice house was filled, the fishing good, and the corn yield above expectations. All showed me his profound respect for the natural world and his realization of man’s humble position before an all-powerful and good God.
His contributions to the town (he planted elm trees along Jordan Lane to arch the street) and to his church (he installed electricity and put in sidewalks) were expressions of his philosophy of giving to others.
Grandfather George Larkin Clark [2]
By Eleanor Buck Wolf
My maternal grandfather, George Larkin Clark, was the minister of Wethersfield
His spirit was joyful; he spread happiness wherever he went. In the days when a chasm existed between Catholic and Protestant churches, he rode his bike to put his feet under the table of any resident, parishioner or not, and was warmly welcomed for his friendliness and humor.
Young people were always welcomed at the Parsonage, which was next door to the High School. We loved watching patterns seem to grow out of the wood by his skillful carving on the furniture he was making. Somehow there way always time for popcorn!
In spite of a buy church schedule, involvement with town projects such as starting a public library, his parish visiting and his traveling, he had time to cultivate a large vegetable garden, to make and carve furniture and to write and publish books. To me he was everything I wanted to be when I grew up.
The greatest gift from my grandfathers was not telling me how to run my life, but leaving me with wonderful, loving examples that have enriched and inspired.
Books written by George L. Clark include:
Notions of A Yankee Parson Sherman, French & Company, Boston
Silas Deane, a Connecticut Leader in the American Revolution G.P. Putnam’s Sons, New York
A History of Connecticut , Its People and Institutions G.P. Putnam’s Sons, New York
