Marinda Thornton Homer 1861-1923
Marinda Homer Jardine
By Irene Jardine Clark
My mother had an outstanding character. All who met her were impressed by her wonderful personality. Her principal characteristic was her never failing kindness to everybody whether she knew them or not. Even perfect strangers whom she met at home or abroad were helped and cheered upon their way in such a kindly and tactful way that she had made another friend whether she ever saw them again or not. Her home was open to all comers and the unfortunate and down and outers were especially welcome. From the age of fourteen her home was in Clarkston, Utah. However she was born in Salt Lake City and was the daughter of Russel King and Eliza Thornton Homer. She was born January 18, 1861, and spent the first five years in the Seventh Ward.
Her parents moved first to Smithfield for a short time and then to Three-Mile Creek. Her natural disposition was that of a real mother. So when at an early age she began to help with the household tasks and the care of her younger brothers and sisters, her attitude toward them was more like that of a mother than a sister.
And when her mother passed away leaving six small children, Marinda the eldest, and just twelve, assumed an attitude of maternal care and devotion toward them which lasted all her life.
Her girlhood was not remarkable in any way. She went to school in the winter and often visited some of her mother's people, more especially Grandfather Thornton and Uncle Billy.
When not quite nineteen she married John B. Jardine, January 1st, 1880 in the endowment house in Salt Lake City. He was also of Clarkston and they traveled to Salt Lake by team and sleigh. Their two best friends, John Buttars and Sarah Tanner also of Clarkston, went with them and were married the same day.
They soon began housekeeping in a modest way in a one room log cabin in Clarkston. John being a farmer, they assumed all the duties of farm life and by dint of hard work and careful planning, they were able to build up a comfortable home where they lived happily and reared a family of five sons and two daughters.
Here they entertained friends and strangers. The latch string was always on the outside and their home was an inspiration to all who entered it. They were affectionately called Uncle John and Aunt Rinda by the whole community. Their motto was, "If you can't say anything good about a person don't say anything at all."
My mother's health was not the best and she did not have the modern conveniences of the present day. If she was out of bread she had to bake it with a wood fire. Even so, no one ever left her door hungry. While my father was a little more gruff in manner (being a real pioneer) he was just as freehearted and helped her in every way he could.
One incident I would like to relate that will give an insight into my parents’ character. One evening when we were all ready to go to church, there came a knock at the door. Father opened it and oh, my, what a looking sight stood there. An old man asking for a place to sleep. His long unkempt hair and beard were matted, his clothes were filthy. He carried a small pack and a cane. Lily and I said, "Oh, don't let him stay." Besides we had to hurry on to church as we both sang in the choir and there was something special going on. Mother said, "You folks go on and I will stay and get him something to eat." Well we girls had to go and about twenty minutes late, Father, Mother and the old man came in and he sat beside them. We felt terribly embarrased (sic). But at Mother's funeral one of the speakers told of how many places that same man had gone that evening and been turned away and only Aunt Rinda would take him in.
My parents were parents to be proud of and I know that every one of the Homer family loved and respected my dear father.
My mother was of a deeply religious nature. No sacrifice was to great for her to make for the church. She loved and served the Lord to the very best of her ability to do so.
As a mother, she was kind and patient, never driving her children but leading them along the way she wished them to go. She desired them to be good church members and good citizens and set them a worthy example.
About the first of October, 1923, father and mother went to visit their son Russell and family at Teton Basin, Idaho.
On the return trip, Mother was stricken with pneumonia and died at her sister Lovisa Thornton's home at Blackfoot, Idaho, October 10, 1923. She is buried in the Clarkston Cemetery.