Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Robert Archibald and Gladys Vivian (Blanchard) VanAmburg

Ninth Generation - continued . . . . .

Gladys Vivian (Blanchard) VanAmburg was born in Franklin, New Hampshire - 23 Jan 1906; she left this life shortly after her 97th birthday, 30 Jan 2003, in Brockton,
Massachusetts. She aged gracefully, the above photograph was taken following her 94th (or 95th birthday).

Yes, she was a happy lady, one who made her own happiness, one who never swore or said an unkind word about anyone. Though she never was able to complete her high school education, she wrote like the intelligent and perceptive woman that she was, and had items and continuing articles published . In recounting her childhood, she had to leave school when her father left the family and she was needed to help in their support.

I recall the mandolin she had and had played as a younger woman, her talents have shown in many ways over the years. She spoke of dancing “Apache” with a young man, Wally Brown, who later achieved a certain renown as a vaudevillian, comedian, and a movie star in Hollywood. This was in Malden, Massachusetts prior to 1926.

What she referred to in her very old age as her “life line” was the fun she had in designing greeting cards, water color , an off-shoot of paintings in oils and acrylics that she had done earlier.

As a small child, it was a delight for me to come home from grade school and find a new dress she had made for me, handsewn, she never had a sewing machine. I especially remember one with small blue flowers on a white ground with blue looped fagotting at the neckline. And then the afternoon when following naptime on Mom’s big bed, I thought she would be quite proud and amazed to see how beautiful I would look, dressed in one of her nice dresses, and wearing her makeup. (oops! She was NOT). Many stories and events, including my getting stuck to the floor (a mini-tanrum?), going on a trip to Boston without bothering to put on my panties, were all a part of those childhood years, and her amazing patience with a pesky daughter.
Mom was as good a shot with rifle and pistol as my Dad was, and she looked very dashing in competition matches dressed in jodphurs & shooting jacket, that was in the 1930s,40s. I have some of Dad’s medals, but Mom eventually discarded hers. As she often said - memories were more important to her than things.

to be continued . . . Marriage . . . and some miscellanea