Contents: From -
Muriel Cannon Mathis Eileen Cannon Schmutz Helen Cannon Madsen Isadora Chadburn Price
Rodney Chadburn Frances Elmer Robbins
Cherril Robyn Robbins Doutre and Jill Robbins Pursel
Barbara Truman Price Helen Truman Foremaster Davis
Emma Truman Nellie Rae Hunt Jones and
Phyllis Truman Hunt BrackenMemories from Muriel Cannon Mathis, a granddaughter
(&) daughter of MattieSome of the things that I remember about Grandma are very minimal really because in those days we didn’t have cars and didn’t get to visit like we do now, but there were some things that I will always remember.
On special holidays, Dad would carry Aileen and me on his back, taking turns, up to visit Grandma and Grandpa Truman because it was important for Mama to go visit them. The home they lived in, on Diagonal Street was not a big home, but I remember that the kitchen was on the north and the living room was on the south. Grandma had such a cute clock on the south wall in the living room. On the west wall in the kitchen, she had a cupboard where she kept her cheese and butter and everyday dishes. It was so much fun to have her get out the bread, butter and cheese. They were always partially melted and I have never tasted cheese so good as that was. And her dried corn was superb. I have never dried corn to taste as good as that was.
Even though I wasn’t very big, I remember that I could reach out my arm and she almost fit under it and when we would go to her home we would sit on the east porch and visit and when she stood up, she just wasn’t very tall. She had such a nice grape patch out back and I remember looking around the corner and seeing someone out there and she said “It is that Libby Lee stealing my grapes again.” I was always worried about that lady but she didn’t seem too concerned. Maybe that was just a front so that I wouldn’t be too nervous. One summer I remember that she was up to the ranch when I was there and we were doing something outside with a fire and I just kept getting up and doing something and I remember her saying, “You are just like your Grandmother Cannon; always having
to be busy doing something. Isn’t she Phyllis?” When Mama died! remember how sad she was because she’d had a very special close relationship with Mama.As she grew older, she made a lot of quilts by hand and then when she had to go to Salt Lake for treatments for skin cancer on her face she would go to Santaquin and stay with Jo and Florence. Mostly Jo, and she kept Jo’s dishes done up for her. I shall always remember her standing at that sink doing the dishes. She could hardly see over the sink.
In the fall of 1953 I was living in Monroe and Joe and Lynn brought her down from their place and left her with us and then we were going to take her to St. George. When she arrived I told her that the next day I, with my girlfriend Braunda, was going to have a Halloween party because the upstairs in the house we lived in had never been finished and we thought that we could have a really fun party up there. I wasn’t too good on the pie making and she volunteered to make the pie for the party. The afternoon of the party, Braunda came down to help get ready for the party. Grandma started to make the pie and I told Braunda to just visit with her and I would nurse my baby. This was about 2:00. I went in to nurse the baby. About 4:00 they came in to see what had happened to me. I had gone to sleep. They had the pie all made and the kitchen all cleaned. She really laughed to think that I would pull such a trick.
When I think of the hardships that Grandma had to endure I often wonder why. She was a very special lady, but when you enumerate the sadnesses that came into her life, you wonder how she was able to handle all of it.
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Memories of Aileen Cannon Schmutz, a granddaughter
(&) daughter of MattleOne of the things I remember about Grandma was the love of her country and the gift that was ours to cast our vote. Every time it was close to election time she would say “Have you registered to vote yet?” The answer was always yes. Then she would see us and she’d say “Are you going to vote?” I have often wondered what happened to her in England, but voting, to her, was a God given right and she wanted to make sure we were 1) registered, 2) voting in the primaries and 3) voting in the general election. I have repeated this story to my children many times when they seemed reluctant to take advantage of voting. After reading the books “The Work and The Glory” I can understand a little better why she felt the way she did about our right to vote. The description of England, at that time, matched her description to the letter.
I loved my “little grandma.” She was always special to me and mine. She loved each of us and she let us know it in her own gentle way. I guess if I were to describe her I would have to say she was very small, neat, clean, like as in shiny, even when she was in the garden, pretty and without anything artificial about her, hair pulled back and loving. In my mind I always see Grandma with a full apron on.
It seems to me that she always wore her apron and many times when I went to her house, she was out in her yard hoeing. She would meet us at the side of the house, hoe in hand and apron on. In my mind I still see that picture clearly. What a beautiful memory to have of her.
While I was growing up, Grandma was bound to her home unless someone came to take her somewhere. Aunt Phyllis Hunt Bracken was really good to her and brought her to our house regularly and I’m sure helped her with groceries and other necessities. We didn’t have a car so Aunt Phyllis also took mama everywhere she needed to go. I will always remember some of the visits they made to our home. My sister Muriel, who was just older than me and was a typical sister and I, in return, reacted like a typical sister. If anyone was around she would always be so sweet and do anything anyone asked her to do but if we were just there with Mama she would act like a normal kid and do it if she had to. As I began to realize this, something happened in my mind and if anyone was around I wouldn’t do anything because I related this as all for show. As a result, when they visited and Mama asked me to do anything I would never do it. Grandma would always say, “Aileen, why won’t you help your mother?” I never had an answer, I just wouldn’t do it if anyone was around. As the years passed Mama became ill and Grandma stayed with us periodically and she soon found out that I did work and she apologized to me for the things she had said to me through the years.
I never saw a thing out of place in Grandma’s house. It was always immaculate. She was always busy doing something, hoeing, sewing, or quilting. I loved being in her house as a child. She had an upstairs and a downstairs basement. I spent a lot of time running up and down those stairs. She also had an upstairs screened front porch and a big porch on the ground level and we had a ball playing on those porches.
Grandma accepted my husband Dan and he loved her as much as I did. She made us a beautiful quilt after we were married and it was special to both of us. I knew a lot of love went into that quilt and it was really a treasure. When Dan and I were living in Provo, Utah, Aunt Viola, Uncle Max and Grandma were traveling our direction. They stopped at our house and I fixed lunch for them. Grandma was so proud of me for doing that and she really made me feel good.
Claude Bracken (Claudie) was really a sore spot to grandma that never healed. Claude’s mother died when he was born and grandma had given birth to a baby girl, named Ellen, who was still born. As a result of all this she had milk and no baby and Claudie was a baby with no milk. The two of them got together and Grandma took Claude and kept him for several years. Aunt Phyllis says he was about 5 years old, when his father took him home. This broke Grandma’s heart and really tore up the whole family. Claudle was really hurt by this also. That was something that Grandma never really recovered from. She mourned over Claudie until the day she died. Because of Claudie she worried about our two adopted children, Terrilee and Jeffrey, until their adoptions were final. She would have included our son Kelly in that worry also but she died in 1965 and Kelly wasn’t born until 1966, so Dan and I worried about that one ourselves.
She was my special grandmother and she loved me and she let me know it and I loved her and I let her know it and we got along great together.
My memories of Grandpa are very dim and not many of them because I was young enough I just don’t remember much. I do remember his happy face. He was always smiling and he had big cheeks and always wore a big hat. When he came to our house he would always hide behind the door, then when I’d open it he would jump out and surprise me. I loved having him do that.
The other thing I remember was that his memory started to go (alzheimer's disease?) and sometimes he would pass our house without knowing where he was. Grandma would call mama on the “big wooden box telephone,” to make sure he got to our house. If he hadn’t arrived yet, it became my job to find him. Most of the time he just went on by and I would find him down the street, but other times I had to look harder for him. Our cousin Alma Truman helped me trail him for about the last summer that Grandpa was able to be in St. George.
He finally got so bad that the family had to put him in a home in Provo, Utah. Mama went with whoever took him up and left my sisters and I with our brother. He cooked us asparagus for dinner and put so much pepper in it that it took me years before I would eat asparagus again. That’s probably the reason I remember their trip to Provo so well. I loved my grandfather and I really felt bad when he disappeared from my life.
Back to Contents Memories of Helen Cannon Madsen, a granddaughter
(&) daughter of MattleIt would be impossible to remember Grandma Truman without remembering what she looked like. She was SHORT, quite round and had a snaggly toothed smile. However, the most outstanding feature was the sparkle in her eyes, they spoke laughter and enthusiasm.
I remember her telling the story about the time her mother had baked a pie and apparently had left home for some reason and grandma couldn’t resist and cut a small sliver out of that pie. Then she thought if she took another small sliver it wouldn’t be noticed. This went on until the entire pie had been consumed.
I remember her baking soda biscuits. She made them every morning and if she got too much soda (she never measured anything) they had yellow spots and had a soda taste. Her comment - “I think I got too much soda in the biscuits this morning.”
I remember the apricot tree she had and the “slip-gut” grapes (concord) she had and of going into the garden area and having some of each. Grandma had a garden until she was unable to tend it herself. I remember seeing her many times with her gardening tools and hoeing, etc.
Sundays included a visit to Grandmother’s house. Mother and those of us who wanted to, would walk the exact mile to her house in ‘Sandtown’ and visit. Mother often sent us to the Presbyterian Sunday School run by 'Sister' Conklin to get us out of her hair. (Why do you suppose we called her sister? She was a Presbyterian Minister, I think.)
Sometimes we got to play the old-fashioned record player, the kind you crank by hand. Evidently one of the records had the tune “Yes sir, she’s my baby...” After returning home from one of those visits I sat at our piano and played that tune. My mother thought she had a genius for sure as I was barely four years of age. The fuss everyone made of me at that time is a vivid memory today, 71 years later. When I actually started lessons at seven my teacher told my mother that I had no talent but my mother maintained that I did and persisted until I could read the music. I had been playing by ear and didn’t want to learn to read, and the rest is history as music has been my life’s main focus besides the family. Thanks go to Grandma for that record!
As Grandma became older and it was difficult to navigate the stairs, her double bed was moved down into the living room and she always had a nice handmade quilt on it. Invariably as people went to visit, they would head for the bed to sit down. I was one of those who tried to sit on it and I wondered and wondered why she didn’t want people to sit on her bed. She would always say, “Don’t sit on the bed.” I found out many years later, after I had made my first handmade quilt and realized just how much work had gone into a quilt, that sitting on them could break the threads.
I remember her occasionally sending me a birthday card with a dollar in it. Her birthday was March 17, and mine was March 16, so it was easy to remember. I was always pleased to receive the remembrance and really appreciated the dollar as I knew she didn’t have much money.
Evidently Grandmother had at one time been a weaver, as I remember a woven rag runner that went up the stairs and being told that she had made it. To her dying day she was involved in piecing quilt tops. She had originally cut the pieces herself, but in her later years, she bought kits with the pieces already cut. She made a lot of quilts. She didn’t like the man I married so she didn’t make one for me. In many ways the man I married was like her; both British with similar characteristics. She did make a star quilt for our daughter Antoinette who still uses it.
The funny story she told about Grandpa’s first car has been a favorite of mine and I have shared it with friends through the years. It seems that Grandma was sitting on the front porch and saw a car go by. She thought, “That looks like Bert. I wonder why he doesn’t stop?” In a few minutes the car came by again and this repeated several times until Grandpa came walking home. He said he couldn’t remember how to stop the car so he just kept driving until he ran out of gas.
Her life was not easy and had it's share of sorrow and hardship. I remember her telling the story of having two visitors come to her house. Grandpa was away and she was home with the children. The visitors were hungry and she had nothing to give them to eat. One of them said “Just give us some bread and jam, that will be enough.” But she didn’t even have any of that.
I can imagine that I can smell the fragrance of the orange blossom tree she had growing in the front yard. I can still see her in her cotton dress with a big cotton print apron. The aprons were always immaculate, always the same style and actually looked as though they had been starched. I know her habits of cleanliness were passed on to all of us for which I am grateful.
The big family Thanksgiving dinners were always tortuous as the adults would eat first and then the children would eat what was left. I still remember how difficult it was to wait to eat. This must have been a cultural thing that was practiced with many famifies during that time period as my husband said their family did the same thing. I think that is the reason it is no longer done - we all remember how hard it was for us and we didn’t want to treat our children that way!
I remember how exited we all were when Grandma agreed to go to the show “Gone With the Wind.” I have always wondered who was able to talk her into that as she never went out in public.
When I knew Grandma was approaching the end of her life we made a special trip to Utah to see her. We also went to Aunt Viola’s in Las Vegas to visit with her. She seemed happy and appeared to be reasonably well. She always had that twinkle in her eye. She was living in Pioche with Aunt Mary when she passed away. I was able to play the organ for her funeral. I was glad to be able to give that service as I had not lived close enough to have been able to do anything for her in her declining years.
Back to Contents Memories of Isadora Chadburn Price, a granddaughter
(&) daughter of EstherI loved Grandma dearly. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t know and love her. I don’t remember her ever speaking a cross word to me. I went down and stayed with Grandma and Grandpa Truman when they were still living on the Truman ranch. One time I remember traveling to St. George with them in a buggy. The horses they had were a matched sorrel team named “Chief’ and “Fan”. They were really high-spirited and I remember Grandma saying, “Now Bert, don’t go too fast”. We moved right along and of course I thought it was wonderful.
Grandma always made biscuits for breakfast. Grandpa always said, “I can eat most anything, but damn a woman that won’t make biscuits for breakfast.” Her biscuits tasted different than any I ever tasted and my they were good.
My memories of Grandma and Grandpa are intertwined. Grandpa Truman was known all over Washington County for making really good molasses. I was just a little girl when I rode “Old Fan” while she turned the paddle to squeeze the juice out of the sugar cane. I also watched while Grandpa cooked the molasses. He would stir and skim several vats as it cooked over wood fires. People came from all over to get Grandpa to come and cook molasses for them.
Grandma washed our clothes on the board. She had old black tubs that she heated water in. I remember she had a box of blueing balls and she would double a cloth, fill it with the blueing balls and tie it so they couldn’t get out, put it in the second rinse water and it would turn the clothes more blue instead of that yellow look.
They had a little house made of brick where they kept their milk on the ranch. There were no refrigerators in those days so they would set it out in large pans so the cream would come to the top. Later they had a separator. It had a big round bowl up on top. You poured the milk in the bowl, turned a crank fast enough that the bell didn’t ding and then you opened a valve and kept turning the crank. The cream would come out one spout and the skim milk would come out another spout. You fed the skimmed milk to the 'dogie' calves or poured it in the swill barrel to sour and then feed it to the pigs. The cream, you churned into butter. You didn’t separate the milk you were going to drink, and you took the separator apart and cleaned it after every use. Everybody shipped cream to the creamery. You had to take the cream cans to the post office or you set them out on the road and the mailman picked them up.
Grandma always admired Aunt Lizzie (her older sister) and felt that she was quite elegant. One time Aunt Lizzie came to visit and she had a new pair of shoes on and Grandma thought they were so wonderful and she wished that she had shoes like Aunt Lizzie’s. On her birthday, the 17th of March, Grandpa wanted to surprise her so he gave Viola and I the money and sent us to buy Grandma a pair of shoes just like Aunt Lizzie’s. In those days you walked downtown and it was many blocks. We got home and gave the shoes to Grandpa and he gave them to Grandma for her birthday. However, when she tried them on and stood up in them they didn’t feel good and they didn’t look the same on her as they had on Aunt Lizzie. So Viola and I took the shoes back and she was disappointed.
Grandma used to say, “This is my granddaughter. She’s big enough she can amount to something.” She really hated being short! I think everyone loved Grandma. All of the relatives on both sides came to visit often and they were always made to feel welcome and she always cooked them a meal. Grandma and Grandpa raised a garden and Grandma bottled and made jams and jellies. Often Aunt Mary would be there to help her. They also bottled and made jams and jellies. They always moved to St. George in the fall so the kids could go to school. After Grandma moved to St. George, my mother used to bottle meat and vegetables and fruit for her.
I lived with them and went to High School in St. George. During those years, Grandma couldn’t walk very well and they didn’t have a car, but she was really interested in everything that was going on In our lives. She would say, “What could they be thinking of to do so and so?” and I would say, “I don’t know what they thought Grandma.” And then she would say, “Well, what do you think they thought?”
She was a staunch Republican and somehow she always managed to get to the polls to vote. She felt like people who were Democrats were just a little strange.
Cox’s had a little store about three blocks from Grandma’s. She would make a list and send Viola and I to the store for her. She also kept chickens and would trade the eggs for goods at the store.
Grandma and Grandpa had a tall Grandfather clock that stood in the hall, but it never worked. It was a beautiful piece of furniture but I never saw it work. The had a small clock, like the top of the Grandfather clock, that stood on the mantle in the living room. It struck the quarter hour, the half hour and the hour and you could hear it upstairs and down. I loved it.
I was very close to my grandparents. I always felt loved and welcomed there. I felt like I had lost the best friend I ever had when Grandma died. I was just as close to her as to my own mother.
Memories of Rodney Chadburn, a grandsonBack to Contents
(&) son of EstherAs far back as I can remember, there was always Grandpa and Grandma Truman living in the big two-story white house up on Diagonal Street in Sandtown, in the upper part of St. George.
The grandchildren had a marvelous time playing In the large lot the house was set on. There were all kinds of things to play with, from wagons, to rakes, and a large variety of old farming equipment. The daughters and daughter-in-laws would gather on the front porch and visit while the grandchildren ran wild. It was a fenced-in lot, and the equipment was never in use anymore, so we children couldn’t hurt It.
This isn’t exactly about Grandma, but it is about how hard she laughed when she saw the two little black boys come walking around the corner of the house. Somehow my cousin Spencer and I managed to get the wheel off the big old wagon and use the axle grease to paint every inch of exposed skin in an ink black color. What the two of us couldn’t think of to do was not in the books. Grandma laughed so hard when she saw us, that tears ran down her cheeks and she held her sides as if they hurt.
Both Grandma and Grandpa were fun loving people and they led the children a merry life when we collected at their place.
Grandpa especially would chase the children and tickle them until they fairly well went into convulsions of happiness. Grandpa would suddenly reach out and grab a child by the knee and exclaim, “Why, you have a bone In your leg!” That always led us into fits of laughter and almost sent us into a paralyzed state of shock. We loved every second we were visiting our grandparents. Grandpa could do anything better than anyone else could, or so the children thought, and they were probably right.
One year we raised sorghum cane, and Grandpa and Grandma came up to Gunlock, Utah where we were farming. Grandpa would supervise the making of the best sorghum of anyone else In the whole world. People were prone to ask who had cooked it to determine if they would buy it or not, and there was no one who could make it better than Albert Henry Truman. There were three big vats down under the hill with sagebrush fires burning under them. On top of the hill there was a huge wringer affair that the cane stalks were pushed through to extract the juice. A team of horses went around and around in a circle, turning the crusher to furnish the power. My job, and I was just out of the second grade, was to keep the horses moving around in the circle to press the juice from the cane. Alpine, my older brother, pushed the cane to the press to cause the juice to run in a pipe down over the hill and into the vats to cook and turn to sorghum. The trick to making good molasses, as we called it, was the skimming of the vats to take the scum off the top of the juice, and the moving of it from one vat into the second vat. And then in to the third vat where it became a finished product.
Grandpa and Grandma had lived on a ranch almost all their life, so it was not unusual for Grandma to be curious about the many people who walked up the street near where they lived in St. George. Suddenly Grandma would ask about someone walking by, “I wonder what they think?” That was a valid question wasn’t it? When you said to Grandma, “I don’t have an Idea what they think.” Grandma would say, “Well, what do you think they think?”
No one from the surrounding communities, especially Gunlock, ever came to St. George without stopping in to visit with Brother and Sister Truman. I always wondered how they were able to manage, but Grandma always rustled around and fixed them a meal before they could leave to go home.
One time Faye and I were visiting with her and she fixed dinner for us and insisted on us staying. When we began to eat, Grandma noticed the fork Faye was using and she grabbed it up and said, “That damn crooked fork,” and marched to the back porch and threw it as far as she could, down in the lot. Now Grandma wasn’t one to cuss, but a crooked fork was enough to upset her.
I believe it was the same visit that our daughter Cherie had put her own boots on. Suddenly Faye noticed Cherie had them on the wrong feet. Faye said, “Cherie, you have your boots on the wrong feet. Come over here and I’ll change them for you.” Grandma would never say anything to hurt ones feelings, but when Faye changed the boots from the wrong feet to the right ones, Grandma said, “I noticed them, but I didn’t want too say anything for fear she was malformed.”
Grandfather was tough and rough. One time he and Uncle Billy, his brother, were working for a sawyer on one of the mountains, but the man wasn’t very good about paying them. Talking it over, Grandfather and Uncle Billy decided to take the overdue pay in lumber. They hooked up their teams and pulled their wagons up to where there was a large pile of lumber. They were busy loading their wagons, when the wife of the sawyer came down the path with her fist doubled up and questioned them about what they were doing. “Just taking what is justly ours for what you owe us,” Grandfather told her. She bristled all over again and doubled her fist a little harder. Grandfather said “Just go ahead and I’ll flatten you right on the spot.” “You wouldn’t hit a woman?” “You bet I will! If you take a man’s place, you get a man’s treatment.” And he meant it.
One time Grandfather roped a mountain lion. I have no idea what he intended doing with it, but it was there and he was on horseback so he dabbed his rope on the animal. Now the lion didn’t take kindly to being roped, and he came right up the hind legs of the horse and onto its back. The horse threw a tantrum and went into a convulsion of activity trying to get rid of the cougar. It threw grandfather, the saddle, and lastly it threw the cat. I have no idea what happened to the rope, ‘cause the person who related the story to me, got to laughing so hard he couldn’t tell the rest of the story.
Among all of the activities Albert Henry Truman engaged in, he never learned to drive a car. That was just too complicated for a cowboy who always rode a horse or drove a team of horses, to be able to understand. Uncle Dick and Uncle Rodney bought a car for him and gave him numerous lessons, then turned him loose for a solo drive. He circled the block and circled the block and finally decided to put the car in the garage. I have been told he was doing fine when he started into the garage, but when he went to stop, Grandfather reared back on the steering wheel and hollered “Whoa!” The car went right on out through the back wall, and that ended Grandfather’s car driving.
Grandmother bore eleven children, but I am unable to give you their names In order. In the girls there was Matilda, my mother Esther Maria, Mary, Mabel, Phyffis, and Viola. Somewhere along there was Ellen and Helen. I always thought those two were twins, but It was only an impression I was falsely mistaken about. Finally, one time on Memorial Day in Gunlock, I was shown the two graves and low and behold, they were born some time apart. In the boys, there were only three. Bert, probably Albert, and Richard who we called Uncle Dick, and Uncle Rodney Jacob.
Grandmother must have been a sturdy little lady, to have born that many children, and lived to be almost ninety years of age. She never lost her sense of humor through all of that, even right up to the very end. Uncle Rodney discovered her when she had her stroke. She was sitting in a special chair she liked to sit in and make quilt blocks. For a second, Uncle Rodney thought she had just fallen asleep, but could soon see something more serious was the matter.
He called me and told me something was wrong, and I hurried down to see if I could be of any help. It was soon apparent that she needed to go to the hospital and the ambulance called. Unbeknownst to us, even though she seemed to be in a coma, she knew everything that was going on. She was taken to the Caliente Hospital and there they determined she had had a stroke. She rallied somewhat, and the family was there visiting one at a time with her. When I went in, she looked up and with her timid little smile, said to me, “I sure gave Rodney a scare, didn’t I?”
That’s the last time I saw her alive, but my memory is vivid about the things she did, and what she stood for. She was a wonderful Grandmother, and Grandfather, even with his boisterous ways, was a marvelous, kind person for we children to try to emulate.
Back to Contents Memories from Frances Elmer Robbing, a granddaughter
(&) daughter of Mabel/MaryI remember Grandpa Truman was a great tease. He liked to take his false teeth out and click them and chase grandchildren with them. I also always remember him sitting on his grinding wheel or whetstone and pumping it to sharpen his ax and knives. One time he cut his foot real bad with an axe while chopping wood. He could have cut some toes off. I don’t remember, but there was lots of blood and they took one of Aunt Viola’s doll quilts to wrap his foot in.
There was a story told about when Uncle Dick or Uncle Rod bought a car and came to show Grandpa. He wanted to know how to drive it. They told him they would have to teach him. They went in the house and he decided to drive it. He was going in circles when they came out and when he saw them he called, “How do you stop this thing?” Guess it’s a good thing the early automobiles didn’t go very fast like they do today.
When Grandpa’s memory got bad, he thought he was still a young man looking for mustangs. If he and Grandma were in Pioche they might find him anywhere between there and St. George on foot, looking for horses.
Grandpa was always kind to the Indians and would let them pitch their wigwams at the Truman Ranch and let them have food. They never bothered the family. In fact, Aunt Mary said they were very protective. When she and Mabel used to ride horses to Gunlock for the day, at last 2 elders (older Indians) would ride on an opposite ridge and wait for them and then do the same thing going back. They were looking out for them Aunt Mary said.
Breakfast was always delicious. Seemed we always had cracked wheat. But I remember we had to kneel by our chairs and put our heads on the seats. Grandpa would say the blessing and it seemed to go on and on and on. As a child, it was forever! Now I look back and wonder if he didn’t see us peeking and was trying to teach us patience and reverence. Anyway, by the time we got to actually eat, it was delicious!
I have so many wonderful memories of Grandma Truman - a special “little” Grandma. Where to start? She was such a worker, getting up at all hours to take her watering turn. I remember one time, my husband John and I were there visiting and her “gates” weren’t doing a very good job at holding the water so John designed and built her new ones. She would save things for John to fix. She used to say if John couldn’t fix it, it wasn’t worth fixing.
As children, we always got a brand new dollar bill for our birthdays and Christmas. I’m sure it was because we didn’t have our parents. I remember eating Sunday dinner at Grandma and Grandpa’s and all the fresh vegetables. I loved the green peas and the new small potatoes cooked together. I also loved it when Grandma would let me go gather asparagus along the ditch banks.
It was fun to sit in the arbor where the “slick gut” grapes grew and eat them. It was so much fun squeezing the insides into our mouths. Another messy and time consuming pastime was to sit on the basement step and crack black walnuts for the meat which was really not that much. Many an hour was spent doing that.
I can see black sooted #3 tubs boiling away as the laundry was done or when soap was being made. Grandma’s clothes were always so heavenly white. One time after I was married I went to stay with Grandma so I could go to a doctor. Anyway, we did the laundry (she had a washing machine by then) and I hung the clothes. Grandma took one look, was mortified at what she saw and I had to go out and rehang the clothes. The reason: I had put her “unmentionables” on the outside for all the world to see! Those kinds of things HAD to be on the inside lines. That same time, a gentleman came calling on Grandma. He asked if she was home and I said, “Yes, she’s taking a bath.” After he left, I got a nice lecture on what you do and do not tell gentlemen callers.
One time our family went to Pioche to help Aunt Mary clean up her yard and house. Everyone was working and Grandma decided she wanted to go outside and see all that was going on. After a few minutes Grandma said, “Maybe I ought to go in the house. John is hauling off everything that doesn’t move and I can’t move very fast!”
When I was younger, I remember combing Grandma’s hair with a strange-looking, fine-toothed comb. Her hair was down to her waist at least and she loved to have it combed. She would make a long braid and knot it in the back. When Jo finally cut it for her she looked so much younger and prettier. I think she stopped having headaches too.
I never see an apron or a pretty, dainty hankie (they’re getting pretty scarce), that I don’t think of or mentally see Grandma Truman. She had her “work” aprons and her “Sunday best” aprons, and she always had a hankie in her pocket. When she was at Aunt Mary’s she would fix her oatmeal and do her dishes, then wash her garments and hankies out by hand. She had to do things like that so that she felt useful. If I remember correctly she was sitting in a rocker at Aunt Mary’s quilting when she had her stroke.
One time she told me it was her goal to make each child and grandchild a quilt. She enjoyed making her quilts. Shortly after I lost my mother, she made me a twin size Double T quilt. It’s really worn but I still have it with all of her tiny, tiny stitches. I remember her making shirts for my brothers when they were small and her sewing outlasted the material. I know I would never give her a gift that was handsewn as I couldn’t compete with her stitches.
Grandma Truman was a faithful letter writer. I never wrote her that she didn’t answer very promptly. I used to smile at her letters as I don’t recall ever seeing a period. You could, however, tell the end of a sentence. She always used capitals to start a new sentence. Grandma was such a special, sweet soul - so tiny and fragile looking but strong In mind and spirit. As a youngster, my goal was to be as tall as Grandma Truman. As an aging granddaughter, I wish to be as strong in mind and spirit.
great-granddaughters (&) daughters of Frances Elmer RobbinsWhat do you think of when you eat mashed cooked carrots with melted butter? Or see dainty hankies with a variety of edgings and embroidery on them? What about when you see the hand stitching between seams in a quilt? What do you think of when you see little old-fashioned aprons not much bigger than a child’s? Or sunshine streaming through a window onto an old rocker?
When I think of Great-Grandma Truman (Florence Matilda Bowler), all these memories come to life. And much, much more. As a teenager, I spent my summers in Pioche, Nevada with Grandma Elmer (Mary Jane Truman). Grandma Truman would also be staying with her. They were both widowed by this time. Grandma Truman didn’t have any teeth or false teeth and loved to eat cooked, mashed carrots. She ate them everyday. She would put a fresh apron on every morning and have a fresh hankie, no matter what she was going to do.
After she got ready for the day, she would sit in the rocker by the window and piece quilt tops. She and Grandma Elmer didn’t quilt the tops they made but would send the tops that they pieced together, to be quilted by a lady, also from England, who lived in Santaquin, Utah. I would sit under the old treadle sewing machine and push the peddle for Grandma Elmer as she pieced her quilt tops. One summer, they each gave me a choice of a quilt to have. The one I chose from Grandma Elmer was lime green and orange. It Is bright and was perfect for use at college. The one I selected from Grandma Truman has a patchwork top and floral print flannel back. I haven’t used it much. But when you gently pull at the seams, you are able to see her hand stitches. Not only do I treasure my quilts and memories but my love of quilting has grown from spending the hours learning from my great-grandmother and her daughter, my grandmother.
One of the things Grandma Elmer gave me after Grandma Truman died was an apron and a hankie. Each time I look at them I am projected back in time, to a summer in a gray colored house with white picket fence and lilac bush hedge in Ploche, Nevada. And then there are memories of the times before Pioche when Grandma Truman was living in her own home in St. George, Utah.
Many times we would drive out to St. George from Panaca to spend a weekend with Grandma Truman. I remember the red dirt. In my memory I can see the shady tree-lined street and the irrigation ditch that ran on two sides of her house. The ditches fed her orchard and we would dangle our feet in the ditches. Many a summer day would find us picking apricots and asparagus. I love asparagus to this day and attribute that to those precious summer memories. We would sit out on her front porch, Grandma in her rocking chair, her white clock ticking peacefully on the mantle.
Of course, one childhood memory was a spooky one! In Grandma’s two-story home, we would be put to bed in an upstairs bedroom that didn’t have a wood ceiling. It was some kind of fabric that shivered in the night. We shivered under the covers! It was rather frightening to us as our childlike imaginations conjured up many scary thoughts until we drifted off to sleep from exhaustion.
One of the biggest things to me as a child who was short, was when I was finally taller than Grandma Truman, who was very short herself. She stands tall in my eyes now as I consider the legacy she has left me - one of patience, love, great faith and her ability and determination to endure to the end with beauty and grace.
Back to Contents Memories from Barbara Truman Price, a granddaughter
daughter of BertI have some wonderful memories of my “little” Grandmother Truman. I call her “little” because when my children were growing up, we lived just down the street from her on the Diagonal and when we would go up to visit her, they would refer to her as “Little” Grandmother Truman. That was a good way of distinguishing her as their great-grandmother and so all of the years since, she has just been my “little” Grandma Truman!
When I was a teenager, I would go up to Grandma’s to help her with her washing and that has been a joy to remember. Her tubs were south of the house under some pomegranate bushes and it was such fun to help her and visit with her as we worked. She would always cook us a little something to eat and she always had gingersnap cookies in her little cookie jar that she would have available to treat any of us who would be there. I remember that more than once, I would stop at Penney’s store on the way home to buy me something - like deodorant, from the money she would give me for helping her. It was never much, but enough to make me feel important and just a little independent. She took great pride in her washing so that her clothes were so clean and white.
Oh, how she loved to grow flowers, and vegetables, and grapes, and most anything else. I can still see her as she would be out in the back of the lot hoeing weeds in her garden or grape vineyard. She would always wear a wide-brim hat to shade her face especially in later years after she started getting skin cancer. Her hoe was her best friend. And she would always have flowers growing in the front of the house too. She loved her flowers.
Grandma was always busy doing something even when she was resting in her rocker, but I don’t suppose she really ‘rested’ too much because she kept her hands busy making quilt blocks, or any other kind of hand work. I know that I really do treasure the quilt she pieced and quilted for me when I was In high school! It is worn from much use, but it is now in my cedar chest and is one of my cherished possessions. I would suppose that many of her grandchildren have one of her quilts too. In 1964, I bought a couple of quilt tops. You know, the kits where the pieces are already cut out, and all you have to do is sew them together. She pieced them for each of my children and they have loved them. They were the star pattern, one in shades of blue and the other one in shades of yellow and orange and I have always been grateful that she was able to do that for us.
I would go up to visit her during the summertime and we would set out on the front porch - her in her rocker and me on the top step leaning back against the pillar of the porch. We would talk about everything - our famifies, our problems, the world problems, etc. I found out very soon that she was so very proud to be an American and had the opportunity to vote which she did, ALWAYS! She really did consider it a privilege to be able to cast her vote and to vote for who she wanted to vote for and she didn’t have much patience with those who didn’t exercise that privilege. One time, I remember very vividly when I indicated that she was an Englishman because she was born in England. She let me know in no uncertain terms that she was “as much an American as you are!” And she was too. Oh, if all of us could feel the patriotism toward our country that she felt!
What an event in her life when she finally got an indoor bathroom! And It was a wonderful thing for her, too, but it was too bad that it didn’t happen much earlier in her life. She didn’t require much to satisfy her. At least that was what I thought at the time but now that I look back, I am sure that she would have had a much easier life had she had a few more conveniences. She loved to bottle fruit and I remember how wonderful those bottles looked as she had them on the table waiting for them to cool so she could put them away. She had been taught to be thrifty in her youth and she never forgot her teachings.
Another memory I have of Grandma is that she was always so pleased when any member of her family came to see her. Not only her own children but her brothers and sisters and extended family were always welcome and were made to feel welcome as they entered her humble abode. She may have lived in a humble home but she made it her castle because that was just the way she was; she would make the best of her circumstances, maybe not always silently, but she stuck It out and did the best she could with what she had.
Besides having the heartache of losing two babies, she had a great heartache when she was deprived of the loving and daily association of her ‘adopted’ Claude. She told me more than once, how heartbroken she was when his father came to the ranch to get him at about the age of nine after she had raised him from an infant. But he never forgot her because on Mother’s Day he always brought her a box of cherry chocolates, her favorite. To show you the love he had for her, he told me at the cemetery for her burial, that he had lost his best friend and was not ashamed of the tears he was shedding for her.
She was indeed a very special person in my life and I learned many of life’s lessons from her. She was not perfect and I don’t want to paint her in that light, but to me she was so special that I almost think of her as being that way. I would that my grandchildren would think the same of me because if they did, then I would know that her teachings and example were not in vain.
Because Grandpa Truman died so many years ago, I don’t have too many memories of him but those I do have are very vivid. When we lived down fourth east (of course, It wasn’t called that when we lived there), just across the street east from the big fireplace in Worthern Park, Grandpa used to come down so Mother could cut his hair. He would visit, laugh and have such a good time. I can’t tell you any of the stories he told but he did enjoy telling them. I will never forget his laugh as he would tip his head back and his laugh came from deep within. Throughout my life I have found that my father was much like his father in that he loved to tell good stories and then tip his head back and laugh just like his father. And then my brothers are carrying on just like their grandfather, also.
A wonderful trait to have carried on and a fine tribute to a wonderful man. Grandpa was very much a ‘peoples’ man and enjoyed being with people anywhere and at anytime. Everyone enjoyed being In his company.
Memories from Helen Truman Davis, a granddaughter
(&) daughter of BertI remember going to Grandma’s house to spend the night. Ellen and I slept upstairs and it was such a thrill to go to the porch and look out and see all of Sandtown. Grandma always had such good things to eat, and it seemed like she fixed everything out of nothing, we always had oatmeal for breakfast and it was so good.
I will always remember Grandma sewing on quilt blocks, and they were always such beautiful ones. For all the hardships she faced In her life, she had such a wonderful personality and never complained about anything.
Memories from Emma Truman, Daughter-in-law
(&) wife of RodAs I write something about Grandmother Truman I am aware that the things I might remember has most likely been written several times over. This time of year when the peach trees are overloaded with peaches, the apple trees red with apples, brings to memory of the time when these fruits needed to be bottled. I appreciate the times she spent with us during this time and all the help she was. Never before had I seen anyone with a hand as small as hers and that she was able to put her full hand in a bottle and wash It. It amazed me. As we sat peeling peaches we would visit about her family or mine, whoever was on our minds at that time.
She loved her family very much and was concerned about their welfare each day, always praying for their safety. She certainly was a strong believer in prayer. She was devoted to the gospel and had a strong testimony of it and taught me (a convert) many things about the gospel just by her example and how she lived. Her family certainly sacrificed much for the gospel by leaving England and coming west as far as the train would bring them and then coming by horse and wagon to their destination - all for the gospel. She never said anything about the Church authorities, she supported them all with all she had. She read a lot and was ready to discuss any topic of the day. She was interested in everything. She had many church books. Rod got a lot of them and what a joy it is for me today to pick up one of her books and find markers throughout these books on things that were especially important to her. What a treasure it is for me to have these reminders of her interests.
She wasn’t very patient when her leg would break out and she had to stay off her leg until it healed and sometimes it took a long time to heal. She didn’t spend too much time with us but it was always a joy for all of us when she did visit. She was very impatient with a child when she asked for something to be done and this child said “In a minute Grandma.” “I don’t want it in a minute,” she would say, “I want it right now.” She had a great outloook on life, living each day as it came. She had many disappointments in life but learned to get over them and was content with what she did have.
I was fortunate to spend a few minutes with her before she had her stroke. I was at Relief Society Meeting and stopped to say hello to her at Mary’s on my way home before I had to be at work. She was sitting in her rocking chair by the window. How many times had I seen her there sewing quilt blocks together! This day her hands were idle and we just visited about family, especially the grandchildren and what was in store for them.
Memories from Nellie Rae Hunt Jones, a granddaughterBack to Contents
(&) daughter of PhyllisHow can I express in a few words the deep love, respect and honor that I feel for my dear departed Grandma Truman? We can only weep at the trials and hardships that she must have faced, yet she was strong enough to withstand them all. This 4 foot 10 inch lady raised a large, good, and noble family under the most trying circumstances. We can only admire as they had problems that we will never have to face. The Lord placed us in the right generation, that’s for sure. Let me related just a couple of happenings in a long life.
The family was living in Hebron, Utah - a small and now abandoned community near Enterprise, Utah. Her brother Harry and a friend stopped to eat and all there was in the house was a single biscuit and some mutton tallow. Grandma wept as she told the story to my mom and we both wept as she told the story to me. As we live in this land, in a time of abundance and waste, we cannot even imagine that happening. My heart almost bursts with love, sorrow and deep thanksgiving as I relate this story to you.
Grandma also told the story of when she was living on the Magotsee Ranch near Veyo, Utah. One day she was going to the wood pile for some wood when she came face to face with a mountain lion. They both stopped and looked at each other for a few minutes and then the lion turned and left.
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The following story is about Bert and Florrie as they first meet and then marry. It is a story from me, with help from my mother, Phyllis Truman Hunt Bracken.
As we leave Enterprise, Utah, and head for Enterprise reservoir in our four-wheel drive truck, we see a sign indicating the ghost town of Hebron. Three, one hundred year old cottonwood trees now stand as sentinels, stately and tall as lonely reminders of the hustle and bustle that must have existed when our dear grandmother went to visit her sister Lizzie and her husband John David Pulsipher.Florence Matilda Bowler was only fifteen when she met and fell in love with that tall, good looking Albert Henry Truman. They wanted to get married right away, but her father James Samuel Page Bowler said they must wait at least a year. What a torturous thing for a young couple to do, but they obeyed. This young couple worked and waited and prepared to marry. Whenever they could, the six foot Albert Henry grasped the tiny five foot Florence, and to the delight of the people standing by they would dance. And how they could dance! The story here needs repeating.
One of the first things this dedicated group of Pioneers did was build a church house in Gunlock, Utah. Then besides a meeting place there was a dance hall. About once a month, they had a few men known as the Fiddlers, come to the church and everyone would dance. The children would bring a blanket and curl up on the stage and watch the dancers until they fell asleep. Phyllis remembers the stage would be full of blankets and kids.
When the anticipated wedding day arrived, this sweet young couple left Gunlock in the only means of transportation available to them - a wagon. Both mothers, Elizabeth Boyce Truman and Matilda Hill Bowler, accompanied them. Bert and Florrie sat next to each other and stole an occasional kiss when the mothers were busy talking to each other. The wagon wheels creaked as Albert Henry carefully and expertly drove his horses around the curves and over the bumps. They got to the temple on time and were married on March 26, 1891, in the St. George Temple by David H. Cannon.
(Just a note of interest - David H. Cannon’s son, Raymond, was later married to Bert and Florrie’s daughter Elizabeth Matilda in 1914, also in the St. George Temple. I too was married In the St. George Temple and I have to wonder sometimes, did I kneel at the same altar that Grandma and Grandpa did when I married my love?)After this wondrous event had taken place, the young couple, along with the mothers, returned to Gunlock to start their life anew. Their first home was just a shed, but they were young and life was fresh and new. Elizabeth Boyce Truman, Albert’s mother, was the midwife for all of Florrie’s babies except Viola. When she was born Dr. Woodbury took charge. As we look at our genealogy sheets, combined with help from Phyllis, the only living child to date, we can only imagine the heartache and hardship. Not only for parents, but for the children as they eked out a living the best that they could.
Phyllis remembers that Levi’s were never washed, and were worn until they were totally threadbare. Then after one wash, the backs of the legs were used for quilts. There were never any birthday parties and an orange at Christmas was a real treat. Clothes as well as shoes were passed down. In the 1800’s and early 1900’s, life was indeed hard. As we close the twentieth century, we can be so proud of the honorable, stalwart pioneers, who have given to all of us a heritage of faith and fortitude.
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Memories from Darwin Samuel Hunt, a grandson
(&) son of PhyllisGrandma Truman was a wonderful woman. She loved the church and read all that she could, all of the time. Because of her health and a bad leg that made it difficult for her to walk, she couldn’t go to the meetings, but she expressed in word and deed all the teachings she knew. I especially remember sleeping with Grandma when her leg was bad and learning not to move a muscle.
To her, the man was the wage earner and head of the house, and she treated him with that respect. She was very proud of her son and her grandsons during World War II, and displayed their pictures proudly.
When the bathroom was added to the house and the upstairs halls and walls were plastered up, Grandma was so glad. Many hours were spent pulling Johnson’s grass from her yard with roots that seemed to go to China. I went up many times and helped her hang clothes on the line. Grandma would take a rag and wash the lines before the clothes were hung and then she would fold the clothes as she took them down.
There are a lot of special memories of a wonderful lady.
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Memories from Mary Louise Hunt Hafen, a granddaughter
(&) daughter of PhyllisBesides the many memories of time spent with Grandma I value the warm feeling that I get whenever I think of her. Grandma always made me feel special, as she did all of her grandchildren. She spent a lot of time in our home. She ate many, many Sunday dinners with us. She was there on special occasions, and whenever she could to help out. At peach bottling time, I recall her sitting at the kitchen table peeling the fruit, keeping ahead of mother at the stove.
She would take our Levis and socks home and when they came back to us, they were neatly patched and ready to be worn again. Everything, of course, was always hand sewn. Many in the family were recipients of hand-pieced quilts. I certainly treasure those that she gave to me.
I remember Grandma as a lady with spunk but with a very tender heart. When mother would reprimand one of us, she would later come to use, in her tender way, and with words and gestures, let us know that we were still loved, but to do what mother had asked of us.
In her later years, when her health was failing, it was my assignment to sleep at her home. After supper at our place, mother would drive me to Grandma’s to sleep. She had me sleep with her in that big bed In the living room. We always knelt for prayer. I was timid at first praying aloud in front of her, but she was patient and gentle with me and before long it was just routine. Breakfast was always oatmeal cereal and toast. We had prayer again over the morning meal, and then I would walk to school. I think I was in about the 4th or 5th grade.
The evenings I spent with her gave us the opportunity to share our thoughts and happenings. I loved the things she told me about my Dad and how much she cared for him. And it was wonderful to hear her tell the stories of her childhood in England, the Bobbies, and the trip to America. Of course, now I wish I had a better memory of the details.
I remember her sweet voice. One of her favorites that she would sing to me was “Red Wing.” Even then, she would shed a tear when she sang to me. She had countless pictures of family members displayed in her living room. It seemed to me that everyone had a special place in her heart. She would talk with pride and concern for each one.
Early in our marriage, Sherm and I lived in mother’s basement apartment. I was home alone, with Sherm at Camp Williams at Guard Camp, when it became obvious to me that Russ, our first born, was about to arrive. I went upstairs to Mother’s. Grandma happened to be staying there at the time. Naturally, she became involved in the events of the night. It seemed to me that she always had an extra affection for Russ, and I felt that was the reason.
Observing all the affection given to Grandma, it was easy to see that everyone in the family loved her as I did. What a special grandma she was.