Sunday, October 2, 2016

Blast From the Past, Part Two, Ida Mar's Family

As I sorted through the photographs today, it felt intrusive.  These were clearly Ida Mar's most precious pictures.  Her husband Ben is on the right in this 1940 picture in Fairview Canyon.  Ida Mar and Ben married that year.  I'm sure he showered first.
A few years later, this adorable child was born, the only son of Ben and Ida Mar.
I have scanned in several photographs of this handsome man, Jens Lyman Nielson, Ida Mar's uncle.  Even though this picture was damaged, I scanned it in this morning.  J. Lyman died of pneumonia in 1920 at the age of 34, leaving a wife with two young children.  His wife did not have a picture in Family Tree.
This afternoon I scanned in this photograph.  The back identified her as Zola Nielson.  I was delighted to realize she was J. Lyman's widow.  I asked Ben if he knew her.  He said, "Aunt Zola?  I knew her well.  She lived to be about 100."  Close, but no cigar.  Only 82.  She outlived two more husbands, and now she has a photograph in Family Tree.
Of all Ben's relatives, Aunt Wanda might have been my favorite.  She also had no picture in Family Tree until this afternoon, when I scanned in this photograph.  She and her husband Clisbee were Salt Lake Temple workers and attended our wedding.  Ben has warm memories of Clisbee fussing over him that day.
Because of the location of this photograph, and the fact that Ida Mar had saved it even though it was damaged, I felt that this was someone special to her.  I recognized the shingles on the siding from the picture of Uncle George from yesterday, so I knew this was probably Grandma Redd's home.  I wondered if this picture could be of her.  I looked in Family Tree and became convinced it was her mother, but the style of her dress and the quality of the photograph placed the date about 1920, and Lydia Redd's mother was deceased by then.  I was struck by how much alike these two women looked and realized this had to be Grandma Redd.  She had two daughters, and since I don't think the child is little Ida Mar, it must be Louisa.  Louisa is a beautiful name.  Say it with a long I. 
This is the Grandma Redd that I knew.  Ben said he could smell the bread when he saw this picture, which was taken in 1971, the year I met her.  She kneaded 8 loaves by hand several times a week and baked them in a wood oven.  Ben said her Blanding home always smelled like bread.  She also churned the butter by hand.
Ida Mar graduated from a Catholic nursing school in Denver 77 years ago.  Her first job was at a hospital in Moab.  She lived with some friends of her parents and walked to the hospital each day.  One morning while sitting in his truck, which he had named Buck, Ben saw Ida Mar walking to work.  He told his friend that he was going to marry her.  He asked Buck first, though.
Ida Mar loved her brother Preston.  She wrote on the back that she and Pep hated to dress up.
The box held three versions of this photograph.  Ben thinks this is Uncle Teek, Louisa's husband, after a snow storm in San Juan County.
Grandma and Grandpa Redd celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary in 1962, the occasion for this photograph.  Ida Mar is on the right, with Louisa on the left.  Preston, with a smile this time, is behind Ida Mar.  Uncle Lyme is next to Pep, then Bob and George.  Someone wrote on the back, "These are all such nice, good people."  And it was true. I met them all several times.  For the record, they were kissers.  It was a significant culture shock to marry into this family.
Ben's father was raised in the metropolis of Spanish Fork, where he and Ida Mar eventually settled.  This picture was on a postcard, but many of the pictures I have scanned in from this box were on postcards.
Ida Mar stitched the needlepoint for this chair and finished it about the time I met her.  Carolyn now has it.  Every year Ida Mar decorated her Christmas tree with purple ornaments.  If you don't know the history of decorating trees, the white stuff is flocking, intended to make you think of snow.  It was sprayed out of can, a good example that just because something can be done, doesn't mean it should be done.
For many years, Ida Mar was the Palmyra stake Primary president, named after a town outide Spanish Fork.  In 1956 the stake was split, creating the Spanish Fork stake.  Ida Mar then became the Primary president in the Spanish Fork stake.  She is shown here on the left with her counselors and secretary from the Palmyra stake.  I was able to locate Erma Harwood, standing on the right, in Family Tree.  I added this photo to her file, too.
I have scanned in many copies of this photograph of Ben, which was taken just before he left on his mission to Japan.  His mission call to the Northern Far East Mission included flight instructions to Tokyo.  Ben asked his mother if there was a Tokyo, Maine.  True story.
Ben graduated with his BS in 1971, a few months before I arrived at BYU.  Fortunately, he stayed to complete his masters.  Seven months later he got a job in Texas.  I thought I'd never see him again.
While Ben was the only son, Judith Ann was the only daughter.  Ida Mar made all her clothing.
Ida Mar and Judith are on the left of this picture, next to Grandma Redd.  Uncle George is the kid, and the man holding the rifle is Grandpa Redd.  Believe it or not, I went on a few outings with my dad when he had a rifle.  Ask me later.
This was Judith's first day of school.
Ida Mar and Ben posed together at Judith's wedding reception in 1962.
Ben returned from his 30-month mission and met his niece Michelle for the first time.  Stephen was born a few months before Ben left.
Stephen was a great kid.  Everyone loved him.
It's easy to see the love Ida Mar had for this grandson.
She wrote on the back of this photograph with Michelle, "Proud Grandma!"
Stephen died of complications from diabetes 20 years ago.  He is still missed.  Michelle has 3 kids of her own.
This photo was the last of the school photos I scanned in this weekend.  Jeff was a student at BYU while Ida Mar was dying of cancer.  He cared for her and visited her almost daily until her death in 2000.