The Clarks of Elizabethtown

We had, what I always appreciated to be, an unusual family.  Lee Ernest Clark was raised on the family farm with his sister and four brothers and did not marry until he was in his thirties.  When he did marry Mary Maxine Butler, she was eighteen.  Nothing to my knowledge is known of either their courtship, marriage or their early years together. 

I remember that my father told me once, when somehow the subject must have come up, that he was driving his Model T down the road, saw Maxine, slowed down and said “Get in.”  They then drove across the state line to Dillon, South Carolina and got married.  Years after he was gone I told my mother what Dad had said and her face took on an expression that combined horror and amusement.  But she never completely denied it.

Somewhere in the timeline, Ernest and Maxine moved onto Rinaldi Street in Elizabethtown, Bladen County, North Carolina.  Dad by then had become a carpenter and built the house that I grew up in.  By the time I came along, my parents had been married for 22 years.  They had adopted my sister Judy Ann Clark seven years before. 

The next story I know to be true because it was told to me by my mother.  When my sister was six years old, for some unknown reason, there was a horse or pony at our Uncle Horace’s house. Uncle Horace and Aunt Vi lived just a couple of houses away.  Judy was put on this animal and proceeded to fall off – blame was never determined.  Mom was concerned for her and took her to see our family doctor – Dr. Channing Glenn. 

Dr. Glenn was one of those men who commanded absolute trust.  His word was never questioned in all the years he was known to us.  He examined Judy and declared her to be fine.  Mom thanked him and then said, “While I’m here, I haven’t been feeling too well lately.”

Dr. Glenn examined Mom and then told her that either she had the gout or she was five months pregnant.   I’ve often wondered that if Judy had not fallen off that horse that day, would I have just shown up one January morning.

Mack, as she was called, was a large woman; a fact that I appreciate even more now as I have inherited her body type.  By today’s standard it might seem ridiculous that a woman wouldn’t know that such a thing was happening to her body.  But in 1952, she was old 39 years old and had given up on the possibility.

From what I was told, due to the unexpected nature of Mom’s pregnancy, I became the miracle baby of my hometown.  In that age long before the sex of a baby could be told before birth and, based on some flawed reasoning,  it was determined that I was to be a girl and I would named Evelyn after my father’s sister who had died giving birth in 1926 at the age of 23.

Consequently, when I arrived in early January 1953, displaying all the attributes of not being a girl, I had already ruined my first birthday party.   I was named Elvin (derived somehow from Evelyn) Glenn (from Dr. Glenn, oracle of the miracle) Clark.   Once I asked my mother why she had let Dad name me Elvin (as I considered it a burden).  She told me that during the birthing process in the hospital they gave her ether and for the first three days of my life she could care less what they called me. 

Judy’s life was naturally thrown into chaos by my arrival.  This was proven the very next month when Judy’s birthday came and she invited several friends over for a birthday party; a party that Judy had neglected to tell Mom about.  Also, during that period and being what would be termed a colicy baby, I would start crying hysterically at the stroke of four o'clock every afternoon. It created all the elements of a perfect storm.

So were the beginnings of the Clarks of Elizabethtown.  Three people who chose each other and an unexpected interloper.