DARLENE SIMS CHURCHMAN

I was born in Menlo, Iowa in 1932. In those days babies were born at home, so I was born at the farm to my parents, Monte and Lillie Sims. I have a younger sister, Rosalea, who lives at Norwalk. Both our parents are deceased.

They were originally Missourians. Their families are still there and we have begun in recent years to have annual reunions of those on the Sims side, including those extending back to my great—great grandfather. The oldest ones who are my close relatives are now in their 90’s. It has been fun getting acquainted with this branch of the family. Among them is LeRoy Van Dyke, the country music singer. His and my grandfather were brothers. He is not known as well these days as a few years ago because there are so many new ones, but he has sung and sometimes still sings at the State Fair, or we see him on TNN. He is famous for the auctioneer song which he learned to do from our cousin Ray Sims, about whom the song was written. Ray auctioneered at such national events as the Denver Cattle Show and Aksarben. They attend the reunions every year.

Dad rented the farm where I was born, and we lived on tenant farms along or near where I-80 is now - Menlo, Casey, Dexter, Adair and Greenfield. Finally in the 1950’s my parents could fulfill their dream of a farm of their own. As had happened to many at the time of the depression, they had lost a farm in Missouri. Dad had only needed a little more time before he made either the last or next to the last payment but they foreclosed. It was not a just situation and left Dad a bitter man. There was such a sense of failure and shame that the folks left Missouri and moved to Iowa. Dad’s father had signed the note with him. He lost his farm, also, never recouped, and was a renter the rest of his life. My dad felt responsible, of course.

It is interesting that my sister and I haven’t known this until recently, but families didn’t talk about such things in those days - or at least my folks didn’t. When we heard what happened we began to understand some things we had never understood. We just knew that he was different in many ways from other fathers. Now we see why he was an angry person.

It was at Menlo that I started to country school and loved it! My first and second grade teacher was Mildred Rafter Sears who is still living at Fontanelle. I see her as she attends a lot of district meetings. She must have been about 19 when she started teaching. She was a good teacher whom we dearly loved. We lived on a farm near Casey, then a farm south of Dexter which was in Madison County. I graduated from eighth grade at Winterset. That was a big deal in those days because for a lot of students it was their only graduation. They didn’t go on to high school. I graduated from Adair High School, which is in the Creston district of the Methodist Church. Here we are back again.

Childhood was happy; my sister and I were fairly isolated on the farm but I remember mud pies, dressing our cat Tiger in doll clothes, and trying to give him doll buggy rides! We learned to sew, ’devour’ books (so rare we read and reread every book the county library sent to school), cook (Rosalea), and do field work (my job). Getting to church wasn’t regular, but we went according to road conditions.

What I do remember was that the ’fear of God’ was great (Baptist background?). Others of my generation have agreed that they grew up also not knowing a God of love.  Did it affect our feeling of self-esteem?

I went on to junior college at Creston. That was where I met Duane. He had been out of school a year when he began junior college, and I came straight from high school. I spent two summers in addition to my two years at junior college so that I could take some sociology and other classes that weren’t in the elementary education requirements.

I earned an elementary teaching certificate in those two years. It disappointed my parents that I didn’t teach a country school near them, but Duane went on to Simpson College and I went to Patterson to teach. It was at that time a thriving community with post office, store, and all that was customary in a little town.

That elementary school combined the first and second grade classes. There were 32 youngsters in a room in which you could just about turn around. In their wisdom the educators {board?) had decided that without exception each child in each class should have a workbook. This meant 32 workbooks for about six classes each day with about six levels of learning skills.

When I look back I wonder how under the sun I was supposed to do what was required — trying to teach children, who learn at different skill levels, reading, arithmetic, geography, health, a little history and government; script writing for second graders while first graders were still doing manuscript writing. Additionally we teachers had our own music and physical education. It was impossible to get all that packed into one day, and too much to expect of little folks with very few experiential opportunities and too many workbook type drills which don’t always assist learning in the first place. As I look back on it I see the impossibility, but then I just wanted/needed a job and didn’t question it.

At the end of the school year Duane and I were married and I changed job location to the Martensdale school system, now Martensdale/St. Mary’s, to teach kindergarten. Those were delightful groups of youngsters. The first year I had six Teresas. The teachers and parents, too, were helpful and appreciative. It was a totally different teaching situation.

I was there two years while Duane finished at Simpson. We lived in Indianola in an apartment in the barracks at what was called Hopper Terrace. We spent $32 a month on that little but very nice apartment. We were delighted with it. I carpooled with another teacher.

In 1955 we moved to Westminster, Maryland for Duane’s seminary years. This was truly a step in faith! We had very little money, a few possessions, a car, but no living arrangement, jobs, and with school bills looming. We believe in guardian angels and Christian friends!

I walked into the school office after we got there. School was about to start and the county superintendent said, "Oh, my goodness, can we ever use teachers!" I had a choice, took a self—contained seventh grade, and learned more than the students!

The experience of living in the East was neat. We hadn’t been out of the Midwest and found ourselves learning new sorts of customs. One Thanksgiving we were amazed and blessed by being invited to an extended family’s dinner. There was the usual turkey and dressing, the usual mashed potatoes and gravy — and sauerkraut. It was fine with us but not something we were accustomed to at Thanksgiving dinner. The custom had come, perhaps, from a Pennsylvania Dutch influence.

At their annual church dinner, whatever the alternative, the main draw was deep fried oysters. In early morning designated persons went to the riverfront at Baltimore and bought the oysters, then the ladies went to work breading and cooking them, and by noon dinner they had it all ready.

We truly missed the flowers, the respect for historic things and places, and the people when we returned to Iowa. We were in a rural Maryland area. Baltimore has now inched its way out so that area isn’t rural any more. We were made so welcome that we were tempted to stay and the people would have loved to have us, but we felt a loyalty to the Iowa conference, our parents were here, and so we came back.

Duane was appointed to Keota. By this time we had been married for seven years and were trying to have a family. We applied at Home Finders in Ottumwa to adopt and then letters crossed in the mail, ours saying we were going to have a child, and theirs that we had been approved for a baby girl. So there weren’t any baby girls for the Churchmans for awhile — Lindsay was born followed by Dan and Doug. Our girl came when, in 1969, we adopted Leah from Hillcrest Services. I did not want to do as the doctor suggested and have a basketball team of boys! We were then living in Carlisle.

This was a time when ministers’ wives didn’t "work." Their place was to make a home for their minister husbands, enabling them to be available to the congregations at all times, be Mrs. Clean in the parsonage, stretch the meager salary to cover everything, have perfectly behaved children (@ didn’t work), and listen to the older ministers’ wives who assured us that we shouldn’t be fashion plates but within hailing distance of current trends. All of this entailed a certain amount of guilt on the part of most of us who found we couldn’t be all of these things at all times and in all places. Thank goodness, over the years people have become much more understanding and have decided ministers’ wives are human.

In Carlisle we found our lives interrupted abruptly when, with less than two month's notice, we were told that the minister at Wesley United Methodist Church in Des Moines had taken a job on the Conference staff and we were to make a mid-year appointment. On the day we were to move the temperature was around 17-below zero. Here we were with a two-month old baby and three boys in school. I’d had no time to organize packing, and United Methodist ministers are not provided the luxury of hiring the movers to pack unless they pay for it themselves. We just simply packed up, picked up the youngsters at school, and went. It was not a pretty sight.

It was the only time we moved in quite that manner, but it turned out to be a happy move. We found the church to be exactly as one of the members referred to it - a little country church in the city. Everyone was a member of the ’family.’ They took care of one another, especially the pastor’s family. Our children grew up there.

Those were my busiest years. Leah grew through her pre-school years to second grade. The boys were in Little League for which I was a team mother; in Scouts, for which I was a den mother and served on the Boy Scout Troop committee. I also directed a children’s choir at Wesley, and had ’Wednesday Kids’ — grades K—6.

During these years, at one time or another, we also had nine foster daughters. These were girls from Hillcrest, girls who were pregnant and usually stayed until the babies were born. All but one of the girls gave the children for adoption. We decided to do this because it was through this agency that Leah had been adopted, and they needed the help. We decided to do this in large part because we were so grateful that Leah’s mother could have a place to stay until Leah was born. Some of the girls were delightful, good baby sitters, good help - some were just children themselves and it was like having an additional child, Duane was busy most of the time and didn’t realize all this. We’ve remained friends with some of the girls and get Christmas cards from them and their parents,

The year our oldest son was a senior we moved to Fort Madison First Church. In those days United Methodist ministers weren’t often asked what their preference might be or if the move would be convenient. We felt it was only right that Lindsay should help make the decision regarding his education. It is a hard transition for a senior to move. He agreed to go, but he still calls East High in Des Moines his alma mater and goes to their alumni events.

All three boys benefitted from the move because they became involved in instrumental and vocal music. Fort Madison had a good influence toward their life careers, both vocational and avocational. One sings in church regularly. The others went on to use their music degrees in school and church. Leah grew into a tomboy who played every sport but with no musical talent among her skills.

I was subbing and teaching at interims during this time. I helped start a Girl Scout unit in the city, Otherwise I basically was busy keeping clothes on everyone’s back.  When we moved to Waverly the boys had gone to college and graduated, Lindsay had been married and Leah was our lone chick. It was then that I decided to finish the long- delayed degree at UNI so that we could put Leah through school. I earned the degree in 1988 in elementary education. A year later we moved to Sioux City First United Methodist Church.

Degree in hand I went to obtain a teaching job but for some positions there were 500 applications including those from students directly out of college who had no teaching experience, So I went to work for WACO, Inc. in Sioux City working with mentally disadvantaged adults. I loved the job, perhaps partly because of a significant situation in our family:

I had a brother ten years older than I. Like my sister and me, he was born at home when the folks were still in Missouri. It is possible that if he had been born in a hospital it wouldn’t have happened, as there was a complication about his birth. I am guessing the cord may have been around his neck and oxygen to the brain was cut off.  The result was that he was mentally retarded. In addition, he was kicked in his head by a horse in a barnyard accident.

The attitude toward the physically or mentally impaired in those days was totally different than now. To have such a child was regarded a shame, even a punishment by God, and they were hidden away. The folks didn’t even let us see him. We were just supposed to forget him. It was a family disgrace, another subject we didn’t talk about.

This was one more blow to the pride of a proud man who wanted a boy. It is even possible that he blamed Mom for letting my brother get away and into the area near the horse. It would have been so much easier to relate to Dad if we girls had understood some of this, but even we weren’t given an explanation. My aunt told us about it much later.

When my brother was four or five years old he became too big for Mother to handle, and he was sent to Woodward, then to a care center later until he died 20 years ago. Just think, if he had been born a generation later none of that might have happened but, even if it did, he could have been at a WACO (and working with me). Many of our clients like him were very productive.

I loved the work at WACO even though it was very stressful. I was case manager for 20 clients, managed transportation for the agency, and other duties. When they downsized the staff, the tasks multiplied. I really enjoyed the clients and my co-workers. I did realize, however, that the stress was monumental. Recently we made a trip back and I felt quite at home. The clients expressed the wish that I were back, but I’d not try anything that stressful again. I am wiser now.

July 1995 found us in Osceola. I guess I was recovering from a bout with high blood pressure and hypertension. I am enjoying every minute of a much healthier life style. It was hard to leave adult friends who understood me without my having to say what I was thinking; but my biggest adjustment, probably, was that, after having a demanding job where I was a totally important cog in the operation of the agency, I was required to kick back and relax. It was a challenge as anyone who has left a job and begun staying home all the time can understand. I didn’t miss the stress.

I had to watch that I didn’t stress myself out because I knew I was going to have to conquer the hypertension, but I put in my application for subbing and have done quite a little, both at Osceola and Interstate 35. I had to quit the latter because of having to climb three flights of stairs. Having worked in a handicapped accessible building, I was unaccustomed to that and my knees couldn’t take it. I have inherited arthritis; my father’s was rheumatoid. Mine is not, but I don’t want to push the joints beyond keeping them mobile. I’ve been to physical therapy and learned proper exercise and my limitations. No more foolishness.

I continue to appreciate the ways that I can serve here. I’d like to do more, like volunteering at the hospital; but staying available for substituting makes me undependable. When we do retire, at this point at an unknown time and place, we want to travel and do some of the things we’ve not been able to do. Working on weekends means that we miss a lot of activities that we want to take part in, especially our grandchildren’s concerts, school events, etc. It would always take part of a weekend to go to Texas to be with Emily.

At the present time we are packing to go to stay for three weeks at Nome, Alaska in place of the Bowers while they are vacationing. It is a new experience because culturally most of Nome is Native American: Eskimo, Aleut and others. Witnessing to Christ in an understandable way may be a challenge. Duane will be filling the pulpit and performing other pastoral ministries in the United Methodist Church in Nome, the only mission church in Alaska. In the 1970’s all the churches in Alaska were mission churches, but gradually they became self-supporting. I hope that I can help at the Nome Community Center which houses a clothing closet, food bank and similar activities, or at the Domestic Violence Center where Mrs. Bower is director.

What has meant the most to me through the years has been having Duane graduate debt free (which is unheard of in these days), educating four children and myself, watching those children become great Christians and people - raising great kids of their own. The sustaining faith and the power of prayer have seen me through joys and trials. I have had so much support and strength from prayer groups, especially Living Prayer groups. Some of these have gone on for several years, beginning with Living Prayer workbooks. We came to feel so comfortable with another that we continued aid have lived together, shared together, and prayed together. I would love to see more of this happening.  I realize that it is hard to take an hour out of every week but it is sustenance for these who attend. I believe that literally, having expe1ienced it. And, yes, ’discovering’ a God of love makes life sweet!

The eternal God is your dwelling place,
and underneath are the everlasting arms.
(Deut. 33:27 Favorite Bible verse,
Rayola Andrew, RSV)

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Last Revised April 28, 2012