By Max & Adele Thomas Harker 

We’re going to write our memories of Samaria, Idaho, and its people in the form of a letter. Max C. Harker and I spent two years (1942 to 1944) teaching in my hometown of Samaria. As the years come and go we remember those years as choice years and two of the happiest years in our lives. 

But first things first. I was born Adele Thomas, the fourth child of David Phillip Thomas and Anna Davis. Dad homesteaded a plot of land just above Samaria. It was near the foothills and many people called it Mount Pleasant. I often wondered why it was called that name. Perhaps it was called such because of the pleasant view one had of the lovely valley below. It was beautiful and picturesque. We, like all the families in Samaria, had to work hard for the living we had from our farm. It was a good life, but as children we used to kid about the name Mt. Pleasant and often said it should have been named Mt. Misery. I’m sure we would rather have slept a bit longer than get up and go about our daily tasks.  

As I think about the hurry and scurry of our lives today, I’m sure we would be happy to relive some of the days of our youth. They were good days in spite of the inconveniences of that day. 

Mother and Dad worked hard to make a home for their family and encouraged us in all our efforts. We were taught to appreciate life and its meaning. We were also encouraged to get as much education as possible. 

I remember Mother hitching the horses to our white topped buggy to go the two miles to meeting when she was counselor in the Primary. Dad kept busy in his spare time serving for ten years on the School Board and serving for many years on the Federal Land Bank Board. 

David Kenneth Thomas, my oldest brother, went on to college and spent his life teaching in the school system. He has been Principal of several grade schools and Superintendent of Shelley High School in Shelley, Idaho. Kenneth continued to go to summer school to keep up on the latest teaching methods. 

Mary D., my oldest sister, always seemed to know just about what she wanted and set about doing just that. I remember going with her to take care of our little band of sheep in the foothills. That was one of our daily chores in the summertime. I was worried that one of our precious little herd would get lost and wanted to keep them together. My big Sis taught me a lesson that day. We, as individuals, are like the sheep. We can’t be kept herded together to accomplish the purposes of life. We all have to spread our wings a bit and a little choosing for ourselves. In other words, we all need our free agency to accomplish the purpose of this life. 

We used to dream of when we were grown and the things we’d do. As I reminisce, little did we dream that Mary D. would win a scholarship for dramatics, go on and become a nurse, learn French and go teach French in the public schools. Best of all, she is the grandmother of seven wonderful grandchildren. 

And Martha, second sister, had her day dreams too. Little did she dream as she sat dangling her feet in the mountain stream of our Mt. Pleasant, that she would graduate from college, live in far off places such as Japan and England, and be the mother of four lovely children.  

Then there are my brothers, Kenneth, Dallon, and Russell. They’ve all gone their separate ways, all graduating from college and are the parents of some choice children. These things seemed such dreams of our youth. And as Dallon and Russell crouched in their fox holes during World War II, I’m sure they would have gladly turned the clock back to the days of their youth and their daily activities on Mt. Pleasant and in Samaria. 

Now to get back to me. The reason I started writing this was to recall two of the most pleasant years Max and I have had.  

I married Max C. Harker of Shelley, Idaho. After marriage, we decided to go back to college. Our first two years of teaching were spent in my hometown of Samaria, Idaho. Max was principal and taught the three upper grades. I taught the first and second grades. 

I will never forget the first day of school. Children came early, and I think every child in the whole school came in to each teacher to see these new teachers and wondered what we would be like. Little did they realize, I’m sure that as teachers we had reservations of our own and hoped that these youngsters liked what they saw and would be pleased with us. I know Max and I wanted, and tried, to do our very best, and we can honestly say we liked what we saw as these youngsters passed in review. 

As the weeks and months rolled on, we tried to do our best, realizing we were only human and prone to mistakes as all human beings, and I’m sure we made many. But we grew and learned along with our pupils. Most of all we learned to love and appreciate the people of Samaria. I don’t think there was a family in Samaria that didn’t extend a warm and sincere welcome to us. When we think of all the little acts of kindness that were extended to us, it gives us a warm feeling inside just to remember 

Max and I have been sitting here recalling just a few of the things that happened. We remember the grandparents of some of the children saying, “Now, you don’t have our children in school, but you have our grandchildren, so we’ll expect you to dinner Sunday.” And the time we asked one of the older women how to cure pork and she ended up doing all of the work for us. Some of the families would kill a beef and would decide to bring us some meat and ended up giving us a whole panful rather than just enough for a meal. We remember that good homemade ice cream of one good neighbor too. 

And the time when Max ordered a new suit and it was to come to the town store. We gave Daniel M. Williams, the store keeper, a check and told him not to cash it until we got our pay checks into the bank. We didn’t quite make it to the bank before that darn check. Mr. Williams just chuckled, held onto the check and gave us a sack of oranges for good measure. We could always count on Mr. Williams to trust us if we were a bit short. 

Memory recalls the times, as a child, I walked two miles with a couple of eggs in my hand to trade at the town store for a piece of candy. My! How good it tasted as I walked the two miles back home. 

We recall the year after we left Samaria. We were living on the farm of Max’s parents in Shelley, Idaho, while they served a mission for our church. Max was teaching in Shelley and it was hard to hire help to get the potato crop in. We were desperate so we called for help from the people from Samaria. Six of the young people came to our aid, and we were able to get the potato crop in before frost. 

We recall the good times we had when we were dance instructors. Yes, and we recall the bobsleigh ride and progressive dinner we had after a dance practice. They are all cherished memories. Max just reminded me of the first Sunday we went to church in Samaria. I think before we even went to class, we were given two or three jobs. Bishop Daniel M. Price would have made a good salesman. We accepted but felt weak and humble in our callings. 

I’ve hesitated to mention names as I’ve written this letter because everyone in Samaria was good to us and extended a warm welcome. I’m sure we’ve left out a lot of things we could and should have mentioned. It is hard to realize that so many years have slipped by from our teaching days in Samaria. It’s hard to realize that our son is grown and has returned from a mission to Australia. And as he recounts the experiences he has had and friends he’s made half a world away, it makes the world seem very small. It also makes us realize that the years are slipping by more rapidly than we would like.   

The “Harkers,” Max and Adele