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Submitted by Brett Gledhill
Ancestors
- Petigree Chart
I have debated with myself for several weeks about telling this,
but I guess it's fair and I don't want it to color anything I write
about my mother. I thought that my mother was a most beautiful woman.
Her hair was naturally wavy and was never out of place. She was
always dressed up even in a housedress. She wore two aprons, a nice
one underneath and an outside work one that she could tale off if
someone came to the door unexpectedly. She had a fine personality
and was able to let everyone, whether she cared for them or not,
feel welcome and appreciated. Everyone felt that Mother was their
friend. She was deeply spiritual and made everything an act of God
and a blessing to each of us. But in spite of all this, in my early
life I lost her. I can see now that it was not her fault, rather
it was mine, but from the time I was eight years old, I felt that
she didn't love me and I kept that feeling till after I was married.
It took me until after I had my own children before I could fully
see that you don't love one of your children more than another.
I doubt if any of the other children felt like I did, as she was
the idol of the family. I was thankful too because it brought me
closer to my Dad as I always felt that he was a lonely man. Because
he was so strict and blunt, he didn't draw people to him like Mother
did. We were really close, and he bought me the beaver hat that
was pride and joy, and the furs, the velvet dress, and things that
I thought were extra special.
I blame Aunt Lettie for the way I felt. I had never felt unwanted
until we were coming home from a trip from Salt Lake. My sister,
Millie, and I had gone with Dad and Mother on the train. The trip
took from early morning until after dark and would get to be real
tiresome. To relieve the boredom, Sis and I would go up and down
the aisles putting one hand on each seat and swinging to the next
one. But one time the train started unexpectedly and Sis fell and
hurt her nose badly. It was broken and so we got off the train at
Provo to have it taken care of. We stayed at Aunt Lettie's house.
Sis did need a lot of attention, but Aunt Lettie called my attention
to everything that Mother did for her and kept telling me that I
was not loved and that I should be her girl. I was not jealous of
Sis but of all the love I thought I did not have. Because of this
accident I always had to be careful not to hurt Sis. She must never
get hurt, so I built up a feeling against Mother but I never blamed
Sis. She used to be able to cry and coax to get her own way. I never
could. I saved my crying till I got in bed at night and maybe magnified
hurts of the day. When Ray got married, Mother went to Logan and
Idaho. Sis cried to go along, so Mother said that she could go,
but would have to stay home from their Fish Lake trip and that I
could go on it. Well, when we left on the trip to Fish Lake, Sis
cried and followed the wagon to the wash until Mother gave in and
had them turn around and go back and get some clothes so Sis could
go along also. I held it against Mother and again never blamed Sis.
So a lot of things like this got bottled up inside me and I never
had companionship with my Mother. I could never even dream of her
without crying in my sleep over being left out of things or over
being hurt about something. I guess I believed in Freud or something,
because I did not have a good dream of my Mother until after I talked
all my troubles like this over with Sarah Miller and got them out
of my system. Then I had a good dream of Mother and haven't been
bothered since. But even long before this happened, about when I
first got married, I began to get close to her. She was sure my
help and stay with young children, and during the first few months
after Randall, my first husband, died. So I feel real badly for
having lost her for so long. I found her for such a short time before
she died, and I hated all the time I had lost.
Mother was born on October 13, 1865 in Mt. Pleasant, Utah, the seventh
child of John Lehi Ivie and Mary Katherine Barton. She was a year
old when the Black Hawk Wars with the Indians began and as her father
was a Colonel in the conflict, I think that he must have been away
from home most of the time. This story is taken from the Deseret
News Weekly of July 10, 1872:
INDIANS - We met Brother Henry N. Larter, of Sanpete Co., today.
He arrived in town yesterday, in company with Col. John L. Ivie
and the latter's family. He reports that when they were about four
miles from the divide in Salt Creek Canyon, six Utes, among whom
was Tabiona, rode up to them and demanded to know of Col. Ivie whether
he was "Jim" Ivie, the colonel's brother. On being answered
in the negative they passed on. In a short time, however, they returned,
rode in front of the wagon, stopped it, and reiterated the question.
One of the Indians then said it was not "Jim" Ivie, but
his brother. At this time Tabiona had his hand on his arrows, and
another Indian had his rifle ready for use.
The Indians, however again passed along and after going a short
distance they stopped and held a consultation. The team was then
made to travel at a lively pace. When the Indians saw this, two
of them started after it coming towards the wagon about 300 yards,
but seeing their companions did not follow, they stopped and went
back.
One of the Indians was so drunk he could scarcely sit on his horse
and the others had also been drinking, but they knew what they were
doing.
Since writing the above Col. J.L. Ivie called at our office and,
being well acquainted with Indian character, says that he has no
doubt that had himself and those who were with him not got away,
the Indians intended to murder them.
James O. Ivie, one of the children in the wagon said that Lyman
R. Peters was driving the wagon. Mrs. Ivie and her children were
very much frightened. The mother covered the smaller children with
bedding in the wagon. Col. Ivie said that if the Indians had overtaken
them the second time he intended to jump out of the wagon and let
it go on, and he'd take his chances with the Indians. He was well
armed. Mother remembered the story very well and said the bedding
was a feather bed as her mother thought that feathers would deflect
the arrows. Mother told us how frightened they were, and that they
were told not to cry or make a noise in the hopes that the Indians
would not know that they were there.
After the war was over, Grandfather worked with Indians and they
were always camping at his place. One time Mother was baby-sitting
the smaller children and heard a noise downstairs. She lit a lamp
and came down with the next oldest child to investigate. In the
light as she came down she saw a room full of Indians who wanted
her father. She was so frightened the lamp shook and she had to
put it down. They left, but one Indian buck would keep coming back,
putting his arms on the door, and grinning at her. She was very
glad to have her parents return.
Mother never overcame her fear and dislike of Indians. We hid from
them whenever we could. She frightened us by telling us Indians
would get us if we didn't wear our bonnets.
When Mother was 13 or 14, she had a dream which worried her so much
that she went out to the wood pile where her father was cutting
wood to tell him about it. She dreamed of the end of the world.
She saw a terrible storm. She saw the earth shake and rocks fall
on people. She saw people kneed and beg to be killed by the rocks
and the storm. Her mother was in the group and after a time of horror
the tempest was stilled and bright lights came. The noise of a train
with open cars came. Seated in the cars were old ladies dressed
in white and all with white hair. A man was in charge of the train
and he gave it into Mother's care. Grandfather called Grandma to
hear the dream too. Grandma cried and confessed some of her sins.
Mother's parents decided that they should separate. Grandma was
to go with Lyman Peters, Grandfather's business partner. The children
were given a choice of which parent they wanted to go with. The
four youngest went with their mother and the older ones stayed with
their father. Grandmother and Peters went to Carey, Idaho to live
while Grandfather, Mother and the rest stayed in Mt. Pleasant.
When she was 15, Mother went to Chester, about 10 miles away, to
teach school. She had not had much education herself. Her oldest
sister, Susannah, Aunt Sude to us, was married to John T. Henniger
and they were living in Chester at the time. He was determined to
have Mother as his second wife, so she came back to Mt. Pleasant
to escape him, and there she and Father fell in love. Grandfather
Ivie and Aunt Violet, she was my father's sister, were married on
Sept. 14, 1881 and they moved to Vermillion in Sevier County. Father
and Mother were married on Oct. 8, 1881 in Uncle Pete and Aunt Millie
Gottfredson's home in Vermillion with Grandfather and Aunt Violet
as the witnesses. They had a wedding dance that night and mother
danced and danced and only after they were home did father find
out that her shoes were too small and how much her feet hurt. She
got corns and bunions because she was too proud of her small feet.
All her life her shoes were bought for pride and were never the
right size until she had lots of trouble with her feet. She was
proud of her appearance and she did not feel dressed without beads
on and always wore them. She liked little touches of lace or buttons
on her clothes to dress them up, and often wore flowers in her hair.
They lived in Mt. Pleasant until after their first son, Ray, was
born. They then moved to Vermillion where Father had taken up land.
They lived in a log house the first while. I think that either Fred
or I were the first one born in the new frame house they had later.
When they left Mt. Pleasant to move to Vermillion, it was by wagon.
When the got to about where Sterling is, Father became ill and so
they camped for the night. Mother unharnessed the team and went
out in the brush to collect some firewood. It was dusk and as she
rounded a bush she came fact to face with a crazy woman. She was
very frightened and ran to the wagon, harnessed the team back up,
and went on for several miles before finally stopping for the night.
And even then she just unharnessed the horses and ate in the wagon
without cooking. Father was better the next morning. He always thought
that it must have been an appendicitis attack.
Mother was a good seamstress and made all the clothes for the family:
coats, hats, pants, dresses and anything else. Grandma Ivie, now
Peters, lived near a mine in Idaho and the miners there would wear
their clothes until they were dirty and then just throw them away,
so Grandma would pick them up, wash them, and then send them to
Mother to make into clothes for her children. She could tat, crochet,
and embroider and her home was made beautiful with her handiwork.
Mother had many fears of being left alone especially at night when
Father was gone. If someone approached, lamps were not lighted and
no noise was made by the children until she was sure who was calling
on us. While Father was on a mission, a Brother Adshead used to
bring little gifts to us and he drove a long way to do it. But one
night mother kept him out of the house all night because she couldn't
tell who he was.
A dugway ran along south of our farm and many times people tipped
over there into the bushes or the river and would have to be rescued,
often at night, by my parents. This river was the summer swimming
hole and the whole family would often go in together, and Uncle
Oscar's family would often join us.
From 1894 to 1913, Mother held many positions in the Church. She
was a counselor in the Mutual to Phoebe Holman in 1894, to Alice
Gottfredson in 1901, and to Annie Stringham in 1909. She was the
Secretary to the Ward Relief Society from `904 to 1912, and she
also worked in the Primary. I think that she worked many years before
that but records weren't kept too well. I remember her taking some
of us children to some of these auxiliary meetings in a one horse
cart, and also on horseback; a couple of us behind her and at least
one in front of her. Often, she and Annie Stringham rode to Mutual
on the same horse. She was put in the Stake Primary Board under
Sister Aletha Hyldahl. It was at that time the Church first instituted
classes in the Primary and they also held Primary fairs to display
the children's work. At this time, the Stake took in all of Sevier
County and parts of Wayne, Piute, and Maybe Garfield Counties, and
had 23 Wards in all. They visited the Wards by horse and buggy and
were sometimes gone three days to make a visit. It wasn't very often
that men could go with them, but occasionally they did have someone
accompany them.
Mother was called to be the Stake Relief Society President on June
23, 1913. I remember the day well. We all went to Stake Conference
in Richfield and after the morning session had gone to Ray's home
for dinner. Mother was late and when she did come she didn't eat,
but went into the bedroom and cried and cried. As we'd each go in
to get her to come out and eat, she'd be on her knees praying and
crying. We wondered what in the world was wrong. Finally she told
us that she had been asked to accept this position and would be
sustained in the afternoon meeting.
During her presidency, the Relief Society made many changes and
accomplished many things. Each Tuesday was designated as Relief
Society day, and the General Board began sending lessons to the
wards, including genealogical ones. Their job was to promote temple
excursions, scripture reading, and home evenings. While she was
president, a burial department was set up in the Stake Tithing Office.
During World War I, they checked food and sold bonds. During the
1918 flue epidemic, all meetings were cancelled for two months.
A children's clinic was established and operated.
Up until 1921, there had been all of Sevier County and Marysvale
in the Stake, comprised of 21 wards. In 1921, the Stake was divided
into three Stakes: Sevier, North Sevier, and South Sevier. Mother
stayed on as Stake Relief Society President in the Sevier Stake.
In March of 1929, a very successful pageant was put on in the high
school for the 50th anniversary of the Relief Society. Mother was
released from this position the last part of April and she died
on May 1, 1929.
Just as when she was with the Stake Primary Board, as Relief Society
President she had to make many visits to the wards by horse and
buggy with Father going with her when he could. May times they had
a runaway scare or broke a shaft of a tug. Trips to Marysvale or
Koosharem took three days. I went on several in the old white top
buggy and enjoyed them very much. We'd stay with some people in
the ward. How glad they always seemed to have Mother visit them.
She was almost a relative. She knew about their families and their
hopes and dreams and sorrows. I've seen her cry with them in sorrow
and rejoice with them too. She always kept notes on the people and
read them over before she made her visit.
Lillie Belle Ivie Gledhill had six sons: Thomas Ray, Hugh Lafayette,
John Ivo, Alden Oscar, Herbert France, and Fred Ovi. When Fred was
eleven days old, Father left her and went on a mission to England
after only three days of preparation. He rented the farm to Billy
Carter, but he wasn't much of a farmer and so Mother was hard pressed
for money all of the time that Father was gone. She always had faith
that money would be provided. Many people were kind to her and gave
her food and clothes and money to send to Father. I think that $208.25
was sent to him by friends in the two years he was gone. She really
had a hard time and told of many times being down to the last mixing
of flour and going to the door to find a sack of flour or other
eatables left there by known or unknown friends. She felt that they'd
always keep well and have enough while Father was gone and they
did.
Grandpa Ivie and Luta made their home with us after Aunt Violet
died in 1900. One day he was sitting by our stove in the rocking
chair when he died and he then slumped in the chair and burned his
knees on the stove. Mother carried on so, and promised so much,
that he was brought back to life and lived for three months in terrible
agony. Mother had no real rest night or day with death's rattle
in his throat for so long. It was a terrible thing for her to have
to go through. She said that never again would she try to change
the will of God. Losing Ivo, Bert, Lafe, Jane, and Maggie all in
about this same period of time made an old woman of my mother. Grey
came into her hair with the sorrow in her life. Having a great deal
of work to do was the only thing that kept her going.
After Father returned from his mission, I was born to them and then
my sister, Amelia May. After my sister was born, Mother was dangerously
ill. We all stayed over at Uncle Oscar's farm while she was recovering.
We'd get lonely for her and Father, and would walk up the railroad
tracks to get to see them. I remember Dr. West getting out of his
buggy and threatening us with a whipping with his buggy whip if
we didn't return and not bother her.
Mother never whipped us. She hit our heads with a thimble or would
tell us to go and get a stick. When this happened, Sis would bring
in the smallest stick she could find, or a rock stake, and of course,
Mother would laugh and everything would be all right. She liked
parties and having people over to eat. Our pantry in the rock house
was large and at party time, every shelf would be filled with pies,
tarts, cakes, and so on. Mother was known by many for her pies.
At the foot of the cellar, she kept a large barrel of dill pickles,
and in the winter she kept a crock of mincemeat in her bedroom window.
Mother liked costume parties and was as young as anyone. She liked
to play charades, other guessing games, and checkers. In spite of
her lack of education, she was well read. She liked to go swimming
in the canal or wading in a stream. She liked anything that was
good clean fun.
The people around sent for her in sickness or to lay out their dead
for burial. She helped deliver all of the babies in the family as
well as many others. I think that all of her grandchildren but 4
or 5 were washed first by Mother.
She wasn't very well the last ten years of her life. She had dysentery
that was hard to check. She tried anything that someone that might
work and had many doctors, but they couldn't help her much. She
could be well and on the way somewhere and it would begin, or it
would often begin in the middle of the night. She suffered so much
from it. She was sick so much the last three months that it was
decided to release her from her Relief Society position. When Stake
Conference time came around again, the visiting Apostle and the
Stake Presidency came by the house to tell her that she had been
released. When they left she turned her face to the wall and cried
and told us that she wouldn't live much longer. She died in the
late evening of May 1, 1929. She went into a coma at the last, but
just before she did, Father asked, "Do you still love me?"
and she answered, "You bet I do", and those were her last
words.
When Mother was so dreadfully sick after the birth of my sister,
she was delirious part of the time. But as she recovered, she prayed
she would be spared to raise her children. Then she slept and dreamed
that a man in white came to her and told her that her time wasn't
now. He told her that she would live many years. Then a train of
cars came by with just old ladies in it with white hair and a man
with the train. The man told Mother that sometime she would be given
charge of this train of ladies and that she should prepare herself
to that end. This dream was but part of her life. So when she was
given charge of the Sevier Stake Relief Society in June 19113, she
felt that this was the train in the dream. There were many old ladies
then in the Relief Society. So when she was released from this position,
she knew that she wouldn't live much longer. An autopsy was never
done, but Dr. Gottfredson thought that she had died from cancer.
Just before my husband, Randall, died, she called me one morning
and asked how he was. She told me to be extra good to him as she'd
dreamed that he was to die and that she'd seen his grave covered
with green, and she told me that at his death he was just to have
the green carpet used for him. She and Father were my stay when
he died. They took over for me and saw to everything so that I had
no worries that they could keep from me.
Mother loved flowers and worked early and late to keep the yard
beautiful. She was always bringing home a new flower to start to
plant, or if we went in the mountains she was always bringing home
a bucket or sack of dirt. She liked to camp out and thought that
Father was the best campfire cook in the world. Likewise, he always
said of her: "Give Mother a fire and a can of tomatoes and
she can make a big meal."
Melba and Iris had a good home with them. They were treated well
and were taken on long and short trips; wherever Mother and Father
went.
Mother enjoyed her family. Her brothers and sisters, her friends,
and everyone made her feel special.
Mother, as well as Uncle Oscar, could pick up handfuls of bees and
not get stung, at least not very often. She was always getting another
swarm. One time she was getting a swarm from the top of our cherry
tree and she had stacked tables, chairs, and boxes to get her and
the hive up to the swarm, but got off balance and fell. This time
she really got stung, but still saved the bees.
Mother was beautiful, but Father always told her that she was not
as good looking as her mother. Everyone loved her. Me too, though
it took a long time for me to think that she loved me.
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