This site is about the Rexford-Boeri family kin, starting in the late 1800s and extending through the 1960s. This is primarily from my (Bob's) point of view, although Louise and Ken have added considerably to this site with their memories. If you want to add some memories of your own, scroll way down to the bottom and click the "comment on this page" link and type away.
I developed this site as a way to have Ken and Mom (Louise) add whatever memories occur to them when they see the pictures in the chronological sections below. Since others have also begun adding their thoughts, I will now label each "memory quote" with the author's first name, "Ken," "Louise" or "Myrtle" or whoever else contributes.
I started planning this project about 10 years ago when email was only for the courageous web pioneers and the web was just a curiosity. I scanned quite a few photographs and emailed them to Mom and to Ken to see what memories they evoked. In this site you'll see my memories and others, some from the beginning of that project 10 years ago.
Since I was born in 1943, I don't remember a great deal before then. Hey, to tell you the truth, I don't remember much of anything after that, until perhaps around 1945 or 1946. So you'll have to trust Mom about the memories before 1943.
Here are two pictures of Mom's grandparents with some commentary by Mom from 1997 and in 2005. I asked her who these people were, and here was her reply.
These are Grammy and Grampa Reimann, 2 boys, and Aunt Pauline. I don't know the names of the boys. One died on the trip and one shortly after. I'll try to get more from Chet, but it's doubtful. I do know there were relatives in Montreal. Myrtle thought one was Rudolph. |
When Mom says "Grammy" she is referring to her grandparents (my great-grandparents). Elizabeth Reimann Rexford, my grandmother (and daughter of the Reimann's) was born in Canada, not Germany where this picture was apparently taken. Once, one-time only, I remember being with Grammy Rexford and hearing her recite the Lord's Prayer in German. I was amazed. I'd never before or since heard her utter a word of German. I guess she kept that to herself. She did, however, bring with her a European knowledge of herbs. I remember walking with her through the woods and she'd pick up mushrooms that were edible, and knew which ones to avoid.
Louise: Chet Proulx says that the third person in the Vermont picture is his mother, Aunt Elsie. Chet is Mom's cousin (Aunt Elsie was her aunt). He also said one of the boys from Germany didn't die until they reached Canada. He thought in Montreal. I never knew it, but he lived with Aunt Pauline for a while, so he may well know more than the rest of us. What he didn't know was that his father abandoned his mother when she was pregnant with him, and that she was living with Ma and Dad in St. Johnsbury Center at the time. His mother boarded him out most of his life while she worked and I don't believe he ever forgave her for that. It's a terrible mixed up world isn't it? What we don't know can hurt us. |
Here is a picture showing (Adults, left to right): ??, Elizabeth, Richard. In the front, left to right: Alice, Myrtle, Wesley, Arlene, Muriel and Mom Louise (finger in her mouth).
Louise: The picture is probably taken in Newport, Vt. Uncle Walter was the lighthouse keeper. The landscape was rolling, the lake was beautiful, but to me just a lot of water. The lighthouse, of course, was fascinating, it was lanterns back then. Their adopted daughter's name was Mildred. That would go with the other picture of the three people, probably taken at the same time. Uncle Walter wrote to me after I was married, actually until he died. Walter was also an adoptee, and claimed to have come from a wealthy family. Everyone said he was crazy, but nobody at that time actually knew anything about his ancestry. Aunt Pauline died of cancer of the lungs. She was being treated for bronchitis, I believe. Mildred was in Rhode Island the last anyone heard of her. I never knew her married name, but Chet did, and tried to locate her within the last few years. At one time they were considered quite wealthy, he was in the business of making buggy whips, but stayed in it too long and, I believe, lost everything. Myrtle insists that their house was small. I don't remember it that way, to me they were rich. The small house would have been after a fire that wiped out their original home. Alice and Myrtle were the oldest. Then came me, and Arlene, not Muriel. She was the youngest. She was after Wesley. Actually, you probably didn't know much of Myrtle, she and Arlene moved to Conn. for jobs, but did know Muriel. |
Louise started an exchange of memories, beginning with a letter to Myrtle from Louise, and then Myrtle wrote her memories in response to that letter, often side-by-side Louise's memories. The timeframe was before the depression, since Louise wrote a note at the top of the letter to Myrtle “These were the good times before the depression. I didn't get to that yet. Write your memories wherever they fit and return.
| Louise to Myrtle: | Myrtle's Response: |
| I have been thinking about the times when we grew up. Start your memory working. It seems that we are all there is of the early years, especially at Rowell's. I can remember you and Alice locking me and Arlene in the house, and you two went out the window. I was too small to get to the window, and scared. The swing on the hillside beside the house. I loved it. |
I loved to swing. Here's a poem I wrote about swinging: How do you like to go up in a swing, Up in the sky so blue? I do think it is the loveliest thing, That ever a child could do. Up in the air and over the wall, ‘Til I can see so wide. Rivers and trees and valleys, All over the country side. ‘Til I look down on the mountains And over the trees so wide. How do you like to go up in a swing? Up in the sky so blue? I do think it is the loveliest thing, That ever a child can do. |
| How about the Gypsies? I know we were supposed to be confined to the house. I couldn't possibly think of Gypsies, or anyone wanting more children. Did we actually stay inside? How about the goose that hated Alice? It hung around the well. Alice couldn't have been very old, but she had to get water and carry it to the house. | We were supposed to call Mom and Dad for dinner. The goose was out front so we just went out the window [to avoid the goose]. The goose really did hate Alice. She never did learn that kindness went much further than control. The goose had a duck which he loved. When she died, probably by a weasel, he carried leaves and buried her. We all loved the swing by the pine tree. It looked out over so much nothingness. The gypsies were stories Dad used to tell about horse traders when he was growing up. He said they sometimes used to steal older children for free help. Alice usually got the water and it was a long way down the well to the water and so we used a forked stick to get the [pail handle]. I remember when Alice lost the pail and had to go into the well to get it. |
| The dirt road was about 6 inches of sand, and we were told not to cross the road. I don't know about you, but I know I did. There wasn't anything but horses using it, and if a car happened along, I'm sure we would have heard it. At flood time, we were told to stay away from the river. I'm sure we played there. Getting the cows across the river, when it was at least waist deep. |
We usually walked on rocks [to cross the river to get the cows] and I remember one time the rocks were covered and we were scared. Mom was pregnant and couldn't do it. She said it was OK if I drowned because I would get resurrected. |
| The hills where the water collected on warm days, then froze and we could skate. This one was beside the house. There was another on the other side of the hills that was deeper. I remember Alice making me wade in and get her skate. The skates clamped onto the shoes, with a key, if I remember right. I ate beets right from the garden, and was told "no one eats raw beets.” I said, "well, I do," I still love beets. | You're right about the clamp on skates. Alice would always get someone to do different things for her. By the way, I first saw the goose floating down that rink. Mom took a dishpan and captured him. He ended up being Christmas dinner. Mom was funny about vegetables. I remember how mad she got when she caught us making tomato sandwiches. She said we would have to eat less, which was what we had in mind all along. It was the same as your raw beets which are really sweet. She just couldn't get used to our eating them any other way than what she was brought up with. |
| You and Alice had to work piling hay, had to help with the chores. My job was baby sitting Arlene, when she wasn't old enough to walk. I must have been about four [1927]. Babysitting was my job ever after, plus keeping the fire, and watching the potatoes. I remember burning a lot of them. | Remember the rabbit that had fits and would climb part way up the walls? I was scared to death of him but it was my job to feed and water hi. I thought he might be rabid. We had such a scare about rabies when “Old Dick” had a running fit. Dad had us sleep in the foot of their bed and kept a loaded shotgun beside the bed. He returned OK but it was years before I got over the fear of rabies. |
Actually I too remember Grammy's love of flowers: Delphiniums, Golden Glow, and that pink rose-colored, rose-smelling old-fashioned rose bush.
Here is a picture of Mom at 4 (far right, beneath "Dad" Richard), so that would be 1927. This looks suspiciously like the farmhouse I grew up on, but I think due to the timing it is probably not.
Here are Louise's memories about this picture, back in September of 1997 and then more recently in 2005:
I talked to Myrtle about the family picture. She says it was 1928 in Apthorp. Aunt Elsie had just given her and Alice the dresses they were wearing. She says she knows because she wore the dress to her first day of school in the fall. As she so indelicately put it, after Elsie had taken up with Carl Dexter. Elsie and did meet in Littleton when she worked at the laundry. They were later married. In that case, I It was a hard life, but we survived. The depression hit farmers hard. No aid for them. When Alice and Myrtle were eating mashed potato sandwiches, the town kids were eating bologna. Because I was such a skinny kid I got hot lunches, complete with an orange or apple.
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Here are some follow-on memories from Myrtle in 2005 about this period before the Great Depression.
Myrtle: Remember how Mom would take us down the dirt road hunting where the wild flowers would be blooming? We would walk back along the alders and look where the arbutus would be blooming late. She would brush the snow aside and warned never to pick more than two or three and be careful not to pull the roots or they wouldn't grow back. I guess I got my love of flower from her. We never had locks on the doors and in fact, even when folks were working in the fields, we had orders to feed any hobos who stopped by even it was only warmed up potatoes and eggs. Usually they were just people traveling from place to place looking for work and often cut wood in exchange for a meal. Mom was quite upset when I accepted a tiny turquoise one time. She said it probably belonged to his daughter. |
This next picture is one of my favorites. I call it "Sisters of the Skillet," and it was taken in downtown Whitefield. Sisters of the Skillet were Alice and Arlene. The storefront just above the horse became "Lewis Market" in the 1950s, and I worked there after school from 1956-1960.
Here is what Louise remembered about this picture in 1997:
The Sisters of the Skillet is a group of neighbors only that live in a small section of the area where Teresa, Jim's wife, lives [that was when Theresa and Jim lived in the eastern part of Whitefield. They have since moved to southern NH]. Once in the organization, you are in it for life. The store would be King's. Beside it was the horse sheds where horses could be "parked" while you did your shopping. Alice drove a pony to school the first year (or two) she went to school and had to leave it in the shed all day. She had to take care of the horse, blanket it, harness and unharness it before and after school, the whole bit. |
Here is a picture of Muriel and Arlene, December 1938. Muriel (younger of the two girls) always was the classy dresser. Who took this picture and where was it taken?
I presume it was Whitefield.
See the bucket of suckers in the picture below? These are fish whose mouths (lips, if fish have lips) are in a perpetual rounded shape, so they can "suck" food from the bottoms of ponds and lakes. The ones I saw generally were of an orangey cast. Between the color and the mouth, I never wanted to eat these things.
Following is Mom's comment about the picture; I think the two women (l-r) are Myrtle and Alice.
Louise: The fish has nothing to do with fishermen, Dad and Chet used to put a net of some kind across the river in the spring about the time the suckers were running, go up stream and drop in a stick of dynamite, and you get the rest of the picture. I have no idea it was legal, but those days were different. Absolutely, at that time of the year, the suckers were edible and very good. As for the truck, I'd say you probably never did see it. I have no idea who it belonged to. |
I was born February 7, 1943. Sometime after that, possibly in a park in East Boston, Mom had someone take this picture.
Can't tell you much more than that; I was too busy sleeping. Mom, anything to add?
During this time we made frequent trips from Boston to Whitefield New Hampshire. I remember riding on the train and being fascinated with the paper cups for drinking water and the many different colored train tickets to get from Boston to Whitefield.
I'm told that one time when we arrived in Whitefield, Richard (my gradfather) drove up in a black model T Ford to pick us up, and I was afraid of the car. I was familiar with Boston's trolleys and buses, but not small black cars. I told my grandfather "Bobby rides in big cars, Bobby doesn't ride in little cars."
Still, I got used to it and in fact we moved to Whitefield in the early spring of 1948, shortly after I turned 5 year's old. Not many pictures survived of the house on the Twin Mountain Road. One summer day in the mid 1990s, Ken and I decided to pay a visit to the old homestead. It was pretty rickity, and I was willing to look in the windows but not much else. Ken, ever the risk-taker, decided to go inside. I could hear him going room to room, and heard a tearing sound. What Ken did was tear layers of wallpaper off each room.
Back in the 40's wallpaper was the inexpensive way to redecorate a room. Farm folks had very little money, but somehow we found the cash to put up new wallpaper. I remember the projects: Cutting paper, mixing flour and water for paste, and laying it up on the walls, one layer on top of the other. Note that unlike today, we didn't take the old layer off; we merely put new layers on. Anyway, thanks to Ken's courage and not a little luck, here are pictures of some of the wallpaper samples. Do they ring any bells for you?
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Now here are some memories that you have to approach at arm's length (nose's length?). In the early '50s, the local hotel business was booming. Motoring vacations weren't very popular yet, and lots of vacationers traveled to the north country, usually by train, to stay from a week to a month or more. That stimulated the local economy: young kids like Ken and I caddied at the Mountain View golf course, and the hotels helped stimulate the ever stagnant economy in many subtle ways.
One not-so-subtle way was garbage. You see, the hotels generated lots of garbage, and they needed to get rid of those truckloads of table scraps. My grandparents were happy to oblige. I remember riding the garbage trucks to the Twin Mountain Hotel, loading up with garbage for the pigs and surprises for the rest of us. Huh? Like so many little prizes in Cracker Jacks boxes, many of the dishwashers also tossed souvenir dishes and glasses into the mix. I don't know if it was by mistake or if they were disgruntled and just tossed a plate or cup into the trash as a form of silent protest. Whatever the motivation, we didn't ask for the dishes but actually got some interesting souvenir additions to our china cupboard. Just today I had lunch at a tony restaurant smack in the middle of Washington's lobby district, "K Street," and noticed the signature retro cups and saucers-- white with green concentric rings. These, however, were made in China. Our china was made in the USA!
Ken's Memory: Do you remember how the pigs would occasionally chase down the plates as they rolled away (when the garbage was dumped in their pens)? When they caught up with the plates, they would step on them and break them. The ones we rescued (sometimes over Grampa's curses at the pigs) were taken into the house, washed, and placed on the shelves with our other plates. We also ended up with lots of flatware. I remember the "TM" (or was it just an "M" for Twin Mt. Hotel. Sadly, the hotel burned to the ground and was replaced by Champagne's Market, a small convenience store that is still there, I believe. |
Speaking of what was in the cupboard, I remember the glasses. In fact, I remember the traveling salesman selling glasses, "so strong that you can drop them on the floor and they won't break." That was an important feature, since glassware was expensive. The salesman would hold a glass just so, a little tilted, and drop it in a calculated way onto the floor. The glass didn't drop. We bought some of the glasses, and discovered later that when young boys dropped the glasses, they could break the glasses easily. But by then the traveling salesman was nowhere to be found.
I also remember another kind of glass: ruby red faceted "tumbler." So red that it made even milk look red. Strangely out of place alongside the other plates and cups. I don't know where they came from, although I know they weren't garbage finds. I also know they must have been very expensive. Some time ago I bought some just like them myself, and learned that the red was probably achieved with gold in the glass. These glasses were very expensive. I cherish them. But where did Gram and Gramp ever get them back then when these would have been a definite extravagance? Heirlooms maybe?
Sometime after we moved in with our grandparents, somebody took this picture. I remember the names of grandpa's horses: Dan and Mike.
My guess is that that would be Grampa and Wesley (my uncle) behind the horses. Dan was blond; Mike was dark-haired. Since there was snow --but not too much-- on the ground, I expect this was probably in Whitefield's early spring, which would be late March to early May. Who can tell for sure, but I'd guess I was probably 7-8 year's old here, which would make the year 1950-1951. Soon Grampa would have the horses drag a "stone boat" across the fields to "harvest" the stones and rocks that seemed to be born after the frost heaves of every northern New Hampshire winter. Gotta clear the stones so you can grow and cut the hay in the early summer.
Memories that this picture triggered for me and others several years ago:
Bob: Thoughts that come to my mind are completely unrelated: all the spiders in the barn and on the wood that I brought into the house (I still hate spiders); the light outside the house and Gramp flicking it on and off to signal Muriel that it was time for her to say goodnight; the cream separator inside the barn; and Wesley picking up the anvil with his little finger (also in the barn). As to Dan and Mike, I remember Gramp pulling the "stone boat" through the fields to pick up a never-ending crop of stones each spring. I also remember one time riding to town in a wagon with some metal milk cans, |
Louise: Big! Brown, known as Bays, Dad used them in the summer for the garden, or any other heavy work. In the winter, he worked in the woods with them, skidding logs from where they were cut to a yard, where the trees were cut into whatever lengths were needed. Junk trees, larger limbs, etc. went into firewood. |
Ken: Dan and Mike. Yes, I remember that one was a sort of chestnut, the other a
palamino, as I recall. I remember how big their feet were (I always wished
they were smaller like the ones of horses in cowboy movies). I too remember
the "stone boat" though, probably because of my then-forming language skills, I remember Grampa having the horses, and later the Ford tractor pull that thing around as he loaded stones into it and piled them along the edges of the field as more of a stone pile than wall. I especially remember the smell of the fresh earth... still love that smell. Re. the barn: I, too, remember the spiders. Even today I try not to be afraid of them, particularly so that I don't pass along my irrational fear of those fly-eating machines to Sean. They were very fat, very lethargic until you touched their webs. I always feared most that one would run down my arm, then into my armpit! I also remember the two feral cats, one black and one white (Sunshine and Shadow) that lived in the barn. It was always a game to see how close one could get to them or, even better, to see if they would drink the milk we put out for them. I'm not sure if I ever did touch one of them. |
Winters were hard and work was hard to find. Grampa used to cut trees and haul them with Dan and Mike. I remember a grocer downtown whose name was "Clarence C. Straw." His favorite line, when anybody would yell "Hey!", would respond: "Name's not 'Hay,' name's 'Straw'." Whoever said that northern Yankees had no sense of humor!.
Louise has another memory of Straw and her mother, Elizabeth, scratching out a living:
Ma,Grammy to you, also sold butter in Straw's store. She had special molds, some pretty fancy. She also made and sold apple pies. Dad usually sold a pig a year to Straw, also pies, butter, whatever you wanted to sell that he could use. I think they got credit, not cash. When I was growing up, they [Elizabeth and Richard] sometimes took in boarders, who worked for Dad. |
In my early grade school years, my cousin Maureen (Alice's eldest daughter) was my favorite. Maureen and I would climb up in the hayloft and churn butter in quart Mason jars. Even Louise remembers this:
You and Maureen used to try to see who could make the butter first. |
I remember these contests, but I never remember winning.
Here's a picture of Ken, probably 3-4 year's old (1950-1951), looking over the logs in the spring (note the short pants), and here are Mom's comments.
Louise:
Ken sure looks small on that load of logs. Of course almost anyone would. Dad used to cut and sell logs in the winter. The logs were hauled out to a landing with the horses, loaded on the truck and delivered to any mill that would take them. That's what most old time farmers did to keep some income coming in the winter. |
As time went on, Ken and I had lots of interesting experiences on the farm. We'll tell you about the tornado (for which, unfortunately, there are no surviving pictures) in a while. But for now, here is a pot pourri of mememories as they tumbled out from each of us, as I grew from about 6 to 12 year's old; Ken would have been 2 to 8 year's old during this period. First some random memories from Ken:
Ken: ... reminds me of how much we used to rely on game for our protein when we were growing up. In retrospect, I wonder how all that lead shot (I remember you wouldn't eat much rabbit because of the lead shot but I ate the stuff enthusiastically) affected my behavior and brain development as a child. Not that I remember feeling particularly altered or impaired, but considering what I now know about the affect of lead on small children, it still makes me wonder. I must have eaten a LOT of lead in our main protein source. Though I don't remember Grampa shooting deer, I do remember once when Ernest Bubier (down the road about 1/2 mile toward town) gave us a bear one year and we ate the thing for a LONG time. Grammy finally made a bunch of the meat into mincemeat as I recall. I also remember how bad it tasted and how tough it was. Besides the rabbit and the occasional gift bear, I recall rarely getting to eat a partridge and considered it a real treat. God, we ate rabbit every way you could (and can't) imagine. At one point, I remember having a recipe from Grammy Boyle's turn of the century (that one) cookbook that gave it the flavor of pot roast--a welcome change.
Compared to other things, the rabbit was very tasty, however. Remember the salted cod and salt pork with salt pork gravy (probably flour and water)? Absolutely awful stuff. I was in a restaurant in F recently and saw salted cod on the menu. Very pricy, in fact! I passed.
Food was something that we seemed to not have a lot of, particularly during the time that Grampa was out of work (I really don't remember him working at the paper mill that much), when we ate a lot of potatoes, turnips, carrots, salt pork... Grammy did make bread and home made butter occasionally, however. This was a very special treat. Remember having all of the cousins, you and I sitting around with jars of cream, shaking madly to turn the stuff into butter. One time she actually timed it so that we had fresh butter and fresh bread at the same time.
Also, as you recall, wild berries were a staple. Since I was younger, I only remember it as a special treat. To this day, it just doesn't seem right to have fresh berries just for dessert--probably because we would make an entire meal of them (except that we often had biscuits and an little cream with them). Delightful memory for me. In fact, now that blueberries and raspberries are so available (and good), I've been enjoying berries with just milk and a little sugar. Amazing how tastes conjur memories!
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Louise also remembered the rabbit:
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Louise: I hated rabbit too. Always hair in it and in the gravy as well as the buckshot. |
I myself remember Ernest Bubier and his wife. I remember that she loved canaries and had some difficult skin disease, reputed to be caused by DDT. Ernest also kept bees. Now that I think of it, Grammy too had canaries, and I loved their song. I had one myself for a while (and hope to again, although for the time being I have to be content with feeding them outside). I remember that Grammy's canary and a beautiful Ivy she had growing across the walls at ceiling level died one year when it got to be freezing inside the living room. That was my first experience with death. I remember saying "They died, but they'll be back, right?"
I also remember not liking lead bird shot. I also remember Wesley shooting some pigeons for food. Yuck. As to berries, I use the "berry picking" metaphor from time to time to this day. When a job is rich with opportunities, and there's no need to hide any of them or stake out turf, "there's plenty of berries for all of us." On the other hand, there were also times -- when there were dry, hot summers-- that if you found a patch of berries you kept them to yourself. I remember picking a big lard pail full of blackberries and going downtown to sell them for 50 cents. Fresh, organic... somebody got a good deal. I saved my money and bought my 2nd or 3rd microscope and have it to this day. It was made in Japan, came in a hand-made case, and had the label "Precision Optieal Company." The mispelling is not mine. Times sure have changed; today I have my 3rd (or 4th) microscope, made in America with an Intel chip that plugs into my laptop.
One summer a cat caught a robin, and I rescued the robin, fed him worms, and kept him in a bird cage. We named the robin "Robbie." "Robbie" couldn't fly, since the cat had damaged his wing. Robbie was probably was uniqe in the annals of bird migrations, because for the next two year's he "migrated" south in a car with a friend of our family who drove to Florida each winter, and returned to us when the weather warmed up. Here is a picture of Ken with Robbie, probably when Ken was around 6 year's old (1954).
For anybody who is interested, that is a Studebaker in the background.
I don't remember which summer our farm was hit by a tornado, but in the early 1950s there were tornados throughout New England. In 1953, there was a devastating tornado through the center of downtown Worcester Massachusetts. If that was the year that ours struck, then I would have been 10 year's old and Ken would have been 6. The experience was unique and striking. I discussed this with Ken some time ago and he remarked how loud the winds were, like a locomotive bearing down on the house. Oddly, I didn't remember that noise until he mentioned it; I only remembered the sights. Here's what I remember.
There were six of us in the house that afternoon: My grandfather Richard, grandmother Elizabeth, Uncle Wesley, mom (Louise), Ken and I. It was raining cats and dogs, and was very dark. I decided to distract myself and said I'd go upstairs to get my stamp collection. I got halfway up the stairs when I heard a loud "Boom," some cries of surprise, and I ran downstairs. Lightning had struck a majestic tall pine tree perhaps 200 feet away from our house. The cries were because some of the others (I learned later) claimed they saw "little balls of fire" rolling across the floor. That is often called "St. Elmo's Fire," and is somewhat anecdotal. Sadly I missed my chance to see it, if it was there to see.
I got my nerve up to go back upstairs and stood up, and all of a sudden everybody pointed out the dining room window to a very large funnel cloud. The background sky was a dirty green-gray, and the funnel had various bits of debris in it. A large truck was passing our house and the tornado blew it over. When the tornado got to our house, between it was apparently passing near the barn (see the picture of Ken and Muriel's bicycle for a view of the barn). The wind demolished a pig barn just beyond the barn, and within the house there was pandemonium. My uncle and grandfather tried to hold the doors closed to keep the wind out. My mother tried to go down to the cellar but couldn't open the door. Ken, Grammy, and I just watched the wind blowing around inside the house.
In about a minute the wind was gone and there was an eerie calm. The dining room furniture was all up-ended. I found that my ceramic piggy bank was blown under my bed unbroken. Dogs chained to to doghouses were picked up as an entire assembly and blown several hundred feet away. One very large boar we had was also transported, Wizard of Oz style, hundreds of feet away and also landed on his feet unharmed. The pig barn itself was demolished, like a box of wooden matches blown in the wind. Other trees downwind were twisted and blown over; those with roots in rocks underground split the rocks in jagged arrowhead-like patterns.
We took pictures after it was over, but sadly those were all lost in my aunt Myrtle's house fire. All I remember is that Ken and I surveyed the damage, each wearing our "Roy Rogers" tee shirts.
Whenever I see a gray-green sky and funnel-like clouds, I still get a little uneasy. I think Louise was so traumatized by the experience that she remembers very little. This is what Louise said in August 2005:
The tornado--it also hit on Kimball Hill, took a roof as I remember it. We saw it coming and ran for the house. The only damage was panes of glass taken out by the pressure. There was a truck overturned just a short ways from the driveway. The driver must have been OK or we would have remembered it. |
We moved to downtown Whitefield about 1956-1957 when Grammy and Grampa sold the farm and moved to East St. Johnsbury. I'd guess this picture was taken when Bob was in the 9th-10th grade (that would make Ken in the 4th to 5th grade). This was probably around Easter. That was one of Mom's Chevy's in the background. This is one of the few pictures you'll see of me taller than Ken.
0n July 25, 1997, Ken remembered this about this picture:
Ken: Yes, it was taken on Easter morning. The photo was taken, I believe, in
front of Mrs. Bowker's home (check the spelling on that). She lived next
door to the apartment house that we lived in after we moved off Grammy and
Grampa's farm on the Twin Mtn Road. My room was a converted closet. You
slept in the hallway at the top of the stairs. One (or both) of us slept on
a plastic cot (outdoor furniture) with aluminum tubing and plastic mesh. It
was green plaid, I think. I know I slept on it for a while. Did you also
use it? Remember the address of the apartment house? |
Sometime after I graduated and left home, the surviving sisters had a reunion and somebody took this picture. Left to right, these are Muriel, Myrtle, Louise, and Alice. This was probably in the summer, Muriel's birthday. Here is a brief note from Mom about this picture.
Louise: The little girl would be Stephanie, Alice's great-granddaughter, Elaine's daughter Heather is her mother.No picture of either Alice or Myrtle could have been taken in 2005. Alice died earlier and Arlene in her 40s. |
