According to a note on the back, this photo was taken in 1921.
The note on this photo says that it was taken in Laguna Beach (California) in 1926.
Mary Frances Barcus (my grandmother, whom we called “Annie”) was never fond of the camera – unless she was behind it. We have very few pictures of her, but after she married, she enjoyed taking pictures of scenery, crafts, and grandchildren.
Other than her picture as a young child among the wildflowers, which can be seen here, we have no photos of young Mary until 1921, when she was 17 years old. Pictures on this page show her from 1921 through 1926 which is when she married.
No writings about Mary’s life have been passed down to us, but I did receive a letter from her in the 1970s in which she told me some stories from her childhood. When she wrote to me, I think I was in seminary, preparing to become a pastor. I remember that we had had some discussions about faith, and I had written a letter to her that tried to address her concerns about matters of faith. We did not agree on things, but she was a wonderful grandmother. We had a good relationship and an open dialog about faith.
I don’t have a copy of my letter to her, but I kept her reply letter. It was an attempt to help me understand why she believed (or didn’t believe) in the same way that I did. Much of the letter is negative in tone, as she tells about her strict religious upbringing. She tells a few things about her parents, which are printed on this page. The rest of the letter is transcribed below. It’s about her experience in church life as she was growing up, and it was not a good experience.
This photo’s note says that it was taken in 1924, so Mary would have been 20.
This photo is dated 1925.
I am sure that Annie was not as negative on Christianity as this letter suggests. She was just making me aware of where she had come from. She did have faith, but she shied away from the type of faith expressions that she had grown up with.
Her letter sparks a number of reactions in me, and although I’m pretty sure she never intended it for family-wide publication, it is interesting and instructive. There are lessons for all of us here.
Sundays were endless. We got up early as Dad was the Sunday School Superintendent and we had to be there to greet the first arrivals. We all had lesson books and were supposed to have studied the lesson before we got there, but I memorized easily and could get it done on the way to church. After Sunday School, Church, with a long sermon, sometimes communion added and often a “Mourner’s bench” where sinners could be converted. The afternoons were for resting and “quiet games.” Of course cards were forbidden as instruments of the Devil and any kind of dancing led straight to perdition. Junior League and Epworth League started at 5:00 p.m. Then Church with another lengthy sermon.
Tuesday was the worst. I belonged to a group of innocent little children called “Little Light Bearers.” It was sponsored by the Women’s Missionary Society and we met at the home of one of the church members we considered RICH!! They had actually been to China and India on a BOAT! She had many little curios which fascinated me. Each week we had a lesson illustrated with pictures. I can still remember with horror the poor little Chinese girls with pitifully bound feet, Indian children starving with thin legs and arms and bulging tummies, but worst of all the Africans with leprosy, whose fingers and toes had fallen off. One year I was convinced I had leprosy because I had a peculiar white spot appear on the side of my foot, but I was afraid to tell anyone about it for fear I would be sent away to a leper colony. I cried myself to sleep many a night over that.
Wednesday night was “Prayer Meeting.” We sang a lot of songs which I loved, then a sermon and then came the big event, the “confessions.” About a dozen would get up and confess some terrible sin, many would cry,
then they would kneel down while everybody prayed and they were saved from their sins. I can’t remember what any of the sins were, but I do remember it was often the same people who got up and confessed.
Then in summer came the “revival.” A large canvas tent was put up on a lot covered with weeks and dirt and even though they brought in sawdust it didn’t help much. My brother and I always had a contest to see who could catch the most flies during the sermon, but he always won because I couldn’t bear to squash them in my hands and they got away. Lots and lots of people got “converted” while we were catching flies.
When I was in high school I was asked to teach a Sunday School Class since I knew about all the lessons by heart. The lesson book always said to read Book so and so, Chapter so and so, and verses 5, 7, and 9. I always wondered what I would do if anyone read verses 6 and 8 because there was no explanation for that. However very few ever read their lesson at all, so we read the required verses in unison and if some smart alec asked about verses 6 and 8 I asked him to study them at home and tell us about them the next week. That usually shut them up.
About once a month the preacher gave a pulpit-pounding sermon on evil, sin and eternal damnation. I was never sure just what sin was and I couldn’t imagine a loving God sending anyone to eternal punishment, especially if they lived in some far away country and had never heard about Jesus or God. I’m still not sure what “sin” is. The things I still consider morally wrong are being accepted by respected people these days, and the card playing and dancing my parents thought so wrong seem acceptable to me.
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