Rachel graduated 1908 from the Washington school in Clarion Co. PA, then went to the churchman buisness college in Easton PA. After graduation she went to work as a bookkeeper for the Clark baking co. in Jamestown NY. There she met and married Walter Pryse Sr. Rachel was the mother of Jane Rae & Walter W. Jr. She was a member of the Sellars Memorial Methodist Church, the Ladies Aid Society, Womens Club of Bywood, and the Theodore Burr Covered bridge Society.
When I think of RaRa I see us in a rocking chair in front of the fireplace, her in those wonderful aprons making chocolate chip cookies with us sneaking finger fulls of dough, prayers on a squeaky quilt covered bed, holiday dinners like a rockwell painting, a perfect rose garden tended daily, and those five yellow roses she held at her funeral for each of the grandchildren.
When I think of RaRa I see us in a rocking chair in front of the fireplace, her in those wonderful aprons making chocolate chip cookies with us sneaking finger fulls of dough, prayers on a squeaky quilt covered bed, holiday dinners like a rockwell painting, a perfect rose garden tended daily, and those five yellow roses she held at her funeral for each of the grandchildren.
Rachel graduated 1908 from the Washington school in Clarion Co. PA, then went to the churchman buisness college in Easton PA. After graduation she went to work as a bookkeeper for the Clark baking co. in Jamestown NY. There she met and married Walter Pryse Sr. Rachel was the mother of Jane Rae & Walter W. Jr. She was a member of the Sellars Memorial Methodist Church, the Ladies Aid Society, Womens Club of Bywood, and the Theodore Burr Covered bridge Society.
When I think of RaRa I see us in a rocking chair in front of the fireplace, her in those wonderful aprons making chocolate chip cookies with us sneaking finger fulls of dough, prayers on a squeaky quilt covered bed, holiday dinners like a rockwell painting, a perfect rose garden tended daily, and those five yellow roses she held at her funeral for each of the grandchildren.
When I think of RaRa I see us in a rocking chair in front of the fireplace, her in those wonderful aprons making chocolate chip cookies with us sneaking finger fulls of dough, prayers on a squeaky quilt covered bed, holiday dinners like a rockwell painting, a perfect rose garden tended daily, and those five yellow roses she held at her funeral for each of the grandchildren.
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