I began this blog in order to take part in Amy Johnson Crow's 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks challenge. As genealogists, we tend to gather names, dates, and facts, and we let ourselves believe that at some point we’ll actually share it with our families. Unfortunately, most of us never do because knowing how and where to start is daunting. Do you start at the beginning or the end? How do you find the beginning or the end of a tree? This challenge simplifies the process because each week there is a prompt, open to our own interpretation. There’s no judgement on how, on what, or on where we share the information, nor is there any judgement if we skip a week or three so long as we’re writing and sharing something.
Because I learned about this challenge a bit late, I’m starting on Week 3 – Favorite Photo.
There was no need to agonize over which picture to use. My favorite family photo is this one of my grandmother, Helen (Ladd) Turner, kneeling on the ground, bright-eyed and smiling, trying to get her cow to give her a kiss. I laughed my butt off when I saw it for the first time, and it brings a smile to my face every time I revisit it. She looks so full of fun, and silliness, and it’s probably one of the most alive pictures I’ve ever seen of anyone ever. It’s one tiny moment on film that completely captures my grandmother’s zest for life. I knew she enjoyed being silly and making others laugh, so her unabashed joy wasn’t a surprise to me. I was surprised by the cow though! It brought up a few questions, like, did they own a cow or did it belong to someone else? That was something I didn’t know. Apparently, yes, they did own a cow. When I showed my uncle this picture, he told me that the cow was her pet, and she loved it so much that she even slept in the barn with it from time to time. Obviously, her feelings for her beloved cow were real, but I have to wonder if she really slept out in the barn to be with the cow, or if she did so because it was easier to sneak out to go dancing if she was in the barn instead of in the house!
Helen, the second child of Dana and Blanche (Laberge) Ladd was born in Westbrook, Maine on July 3, 1917. She was a free-spirit and prankster who craved fun. She loved to dance and flirt, and if the stack of love letters she kept was any indication, she left a trail of broken hearts in her wake. At least two young men wanted to marry her before she met my grandfather, Fred, at a dance, but she turned them down. She didn’t want to settle down and get
married in her early or mid-twenties, despite the
flurry of impulsively romantic marriages taking place before soldiers shipped off to WWII, so Fred had his work cut out for him when it came to convincing her to be his wife when there was no war on, and she was nearly thirty. She didn’t make it easy for him! In love letter after love letter, my gruff, rugged, not-a-love-letter-type-of-guy grandfather, poured his heart out to her and begged her to marry
him until she finally said yes. My grandmother definitely turned heads, and though she had stunning eyes, the cutest dimples, and beautiful legs, I believe it was her outgoing and vivacious personality that set her apart and caused all those men to pine away for her. I have a feeling that several men viewed her as “the one who got away,” and I pity their wives because I doubt anyone lived up to my grandmother.
She had the most expressive face. Even when illness made it difficult for her to talk, we could have entire conversations through facial expressions alone. There’s a particular face she made that was hilarious and hideous all at the same time. My dad, who looked the most like her out of her three boys, could make the same face. She found humor in everything and delighted in joking with people. She and her cousin, Enoch, would often prank-call one another. One time the police called her house, but she thought it was Enoch so she kept making weird noises into the phone and mimicking the officer. He grew angry and asked, “Ma’am, do we need to come out there and speak to you in person?” and she said something like, “Yeah, big boy – come on over!” and hung up, laughing. Five minutes later, the cops were at her door, and she was falling all over herself apologizing to them, but of course she went right back to laughing the moment they left!
Helen adored her family. In addition to being a fun, attentive, sometimes overly-
indulgent mother (and an always overly-indulgent grandmother), she was close to her siblings, parents, and several of her cousins. She and her only sister, Mildred, were best friends. After their father died, her mother, Blanche, moved in. I think Helen got her sense of fun and daring from Blanche, and likely from her grandmother, Mary/Melanise – I have some crazy pictures of both. Blanche took care of my dad and uncles so my grandmother could go back to work at the S.D. Warren Paper Company – a secret she kept from her husband, Fred, for some time. I’m not sure why she didn’t tell him. Maybe she thought he’d say no and decided it was better to seek forgiveness than ask permission. Maybe she viewed the secret as part of some grand adventure. Whatever the reason, the fallout couldn’t have been that bad because she continued to work there until she retired. I’m sure she enjoyed both the social aspect of work and the independence it gave her. I know she was well-liked by her co-workers because everyone loved Helen. She was
funny, kind, and so quick to be everyone’s friend that it was impossible not to fall in love with her. I’m so thankful I have these pictures so I can get a glimpse of her life and the young person she was years before she became the grandmother I knew and loved.
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