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The family of Thomas Royal Clark uploaded a photo
Wednesday, March 23, 2022
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The family of Thomas Royal Clark uploaded a photo
Tuesday, March 22, 2022
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Jeanelle Clark Ankeney posted a condolence
Friday, July 13, 2012
Part 2, Remembering Tom Clark, My Beloved Brother... ... all of a sudden, the train began to chug along and move. Tom grabbed me and pulled me up. The train picked up speed with us on it, and pretty soon we were headed north and farther and farther away from home. I was terrified. Tom hid his fear, but he never panicked -- ever. If one doesn’t succumb to panic, everything will be all right. He had a kind of blind faith when the going got tough, and I think he had that throughout his 88 years. The next thing I remember is him telling me we had to jump off that moving train. I was scared, but I trusted him. Perhaps, because our well-being always seemed to be so precarious and in jeopardy throughout childhood, I also had enduring faith that reached beyond my faith in Tom. As the train approached the old viaduct, with us still on it, Tom jumped off yelling at me to “Jump, Jeanelle!!” As I began my descent down that iron ladder, hanging on to the rails for dear life, with Tom still yelling at me in the distance to jump, the train hit a bump and I went flying around the rail, hanging on by only one hand. Survival instincts overwhelmed me at the tender age of 6. I looked down and saw the earth speeding by, yet so close to me. I knew it was then or never. I let go and jumped, falling away from the train near the rocks in the viaduct… breathless, but miraculously unscathed. Tom came running after me under that viaduct. He grabbed me and hugged me so tight I can still feel it as I tried to catch my breath from the fall. We made it and we both knew that we had almost crossed that line. We never got that close to it again, but we still had many other adventures together. No matter what happened, I knew he would take care of me. I trusted him, even though I was afraid sometimes. But my fears subsided as I emerged each time miraculously unscathed. He knew I understood his adventurous nature, and, through Tom, I began to understand my own daring and adventurous nature, though not to the same degree as Tom’s. And I was solely privileged to share these intimacies with him growing up. I have come to understand throughout my life that Tom’s adventures, nonconformity, and rebellious nature were his salvation from growing up in a poverty-stricken, undisciplined, but mostly cruel environment at home and in school for him, and that this form of escape was his preservation. He was that square peg that never fit into the round hole, but he was a glorious, beautiful square peg, the son of our beautiful mother, Myrtha Moree Clark. Tom had an explanation for everything. He was the only one who explained to me why Santa Clause never visited our house on Christmas: We just lived too far out in the woods and Santa couldn’t find the house. His explanations made sense to me as a small child. Of course, that’s it! Tom never said there was no Santa Clause. There is; it’s just that he can’t find our house. Tom had the comforting explanation, believable because it was the one we wanted to believe –- and I believed Tom. I could see Tom reap his personal esteem from his independent, adventurous nature. Steering his own ship, even into danger, affirmed his manhood. And this was up to him, for he himself was the sole source of such affirmation. I can define the many things I learned with and from my adventurous brother companion, Tom Clark. And, right up until just before he left us, we were still companions and spoke on the phone together, still sharing life’s adventures together. And now, I am solely privileged today to be the only surviving sibling to remember him, mourn him, to reflect on him, to think again of the part of me that belonged to my brother, Tom Clark. And I have the part of him that belongs to me. So much more than the mourning remains. So much more… And somehow, I know that he knows I am hanging on for this ride, yet another of his many adventures. Rest in Peace, My Beloved Brother Love, Jeanelle
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Jeanelle Clark Ankeney posted a condolence
Friday, July 13, 2012
Remembering Tom Clark, My Beloved Brother… As I mourn the passing of my last living sibling, I reflect now on some memorable expeditions with my brother Tom from our childhood. Of course, I wanted to play hooky with Tom! I loved playing hooky with Tom. Somehow, playing hooky was okay to do if it was with Tom. He was so good at it! I would skip school only with Tom and under no other circumstances or with anyone else. He did it all the time and would tell me all about how much fun it was “just to skip school and go and do anything you wanted to do…” like going to the movies. This time, Tom said, “Let’s go to the movies and just see what’s playing.” How exciting, I thought. Just this morning, Mama said that something really great was playing,“The Good Earth,” telling us how she had read the book by Pearl Buck who, like her parents, was a missionary in China. Mama’s comment was all the consent I needed as a go-ahead to skip school that day with Tom. When you went to the movies with Tom, you could get in without a ticket, because Tom was one of the few “patrons” who knew about the “side door entrance.” We were privy to that. Of course, we had to be very quiet, so others wouldn’t share our “special” entrance. Tom slipped us in, and I’ll always remember that movie, that day with Tom. I loved it. I imagined myself in the role of Louise Rainier, a great actress. It was great playing hooky with Tom. When I was in the first grade, and Tom was in the seventh, he came to me one day at recess and said, “Let’s go fishing.” He didn’t need to ask me twice; we took off. He handed me the end of the fishing pole and I hung on as we got into the lake and headed for the sand bar with Tom pulling me along as we traveled farther out, about a hundred yards from shore. There I stood knee-deep on the sand bar, still hanging on to that fishing pole while Tom pulled a fistful of wiggly worms from his pocket. I cringed watching him thread the worms on the hook. To this day, I still wonder how those worms survived that entire morning at school in Tom’s pocket. But then, Tom was a master fisherman, and he was even better at playing hookie, which, for Tom, encompassed a multitude of reasons -- or for no reason at all, except for the sake of abandoning all authority and rejecting anyone’s or anything’s control over him, or just for the experience of adventure. He shared his freedom, his adventures, with me as often as possible. Tom picked the right day and the right spot to take me fishing, for our catch that day was bountiful, with me catching the first fish – a big catfish! I was so excited with my catch that I only noticed when Tom said it was time to go that he had caught three other hefty fish. And that’s no fishtail… I mean, fish tale! I can still relive that day as though it happened yesterday, as is the case with so many other adventures Tom gave me throughout my childhood. School was my love. I excelled and was very smart. Pouring my energies into school was my respite from a poor and uncertain home life, with so many older siblings erroneously at the helm, despite our mother’s unceasing care, love, and devotion. But Tom included me on so many adventures knowing that I would hang on to him for the ride, and I wouldn’t snitch on him. Somehow, he knew just how far he could take me, which line was clearly defined that day on the way home from our big fishing expedition… So the two barefoot fishermen, Tom with pockets full of fish now (instead of bait), and me with a now-dry but squeezed-out wrinkly dress, headed home at the shortcut across the train tracks, and behold: there was a train stopped right on the tracks blocking our own homeward bound tracks. Tom, who possessed an uncanny ability to solve problems only when they occurred on his adventures, told me we’d have to climb over the train to the other side to get home. Tom climbed up on the iron ladder, but I couldn’t reach. So he stood on the ladder and grabbed one of my arms with his and began pulling me up to get me on that iron ladder when, al
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Laura L Feagle posted a condolence
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Tommy & Alicia- Love & hugs for you both as we remember such good memories of grandparents that loved you very very much! I remember that your grandaddy was loving and he was sincere n smiled a lot, enjoying you so muhc as children! He was always a nice man, and enjoyed life... I love you each, and remember when he n your grandmama asked me to pray that they could live long enough to see you each grown up- and I thank the Lord for that gift... What wonderful memories and times we had- wish I were there to share with you a hug n a laugh as we enjoyed memories, and a tear as we sorrow for loss too- remember that I love you and the family... Praying! Ms. Laura Feagle
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