GROWING UP IN CLOVIS

by Richard Drake

Guest Writer

            Looking back on growing up in Clovis, I continue to marvel about how much simpler things were in the late forties and fifties.  The memories of the lessons learned from friends, teachers and, most importantly, those from our parents are never forgotten.  I am reminded of learning respect for other religions from my Mother.

            Summers were the most fun because we got to roam the neighborhood.  We were not to go too far and we always had to be within calling distance.  As we grew older our range increased a little every year. My brother and I were always seeing how far we could push the limits.  Seventh Street was a magnet because it was busier than our other streets especially on Saturday evenings.

            There was a church not too far from our house and each Saturday evening we could hear singing.  We were drawn to it like a moth to a flame.  The church was in a former store and had two large windows in the front that enabled us to see inside. We watched from across the street and could see people going around and around the pews.  They were singing and sort of dancing, more like shuffling along.  After a while we crossed the street, a forbidden thing, and looked through the windows and the open door.  It was fascinating to watch and listen.  Around and around the people went and occasionally one would fall to the floor.  They were talking but we could not understand any of their words. It was as if they were speaking a foreign language.

            I was so busy looking that I did not realize that my brother was no longer with me.  I thought that he might have started back home but I could not see him.  Looking back into the church, I saw him.  He was in line, singing and shuffling right along with everyone.  He looked at me from across the church with his big grin.  As he went past the door where I was standing outside, he laughed out loud and waved.  As soon as he was on the other side of the church, I could not resist and joined the congregation.  Around and round we went, singing and shuffling.  My brother and I waved at each other every time we went around because we were having fun. 

            All of a sudden, he was nowhere to be seen. He had just disappeared. I looked to see if he had joined the group on the floor but he was not there. As I passed by the front door, “this arm” came out of nowhere and yanked me out of the church.  It was our Mother.  My brother was standing beside her in a state of “fright”.

            She had this long switch she had obtained from one the Elm trees along Seventh and she applied it to our naked calves.  We tried to out run her but she was a lot faster than we had imagined.  She used that switch all of the way home.  It was only about three blocks away but it seemed like forever.  Once we were at home and our tears had stopped we got a lecture on respecting our people’s religions. Our Dad just listened and tried not to smile.  He always supported my Mother when it came to discipline.  When he said “your Mother is right” we believed it.

            Today when I read or hear of someone being disrespectful about someone else’s religion, I can still feel that switch.  Some lessons are never forgotten especially those from growing up in Clovis.

Richard Drake

CHS Class of '53