I was born in Mars Hill, Maine. Some of my earliest memories are rooted right here, even though my family moved away for a short time when I was very young. When I was about four or five years old, during World War II, my parents moved us to Connecticut. My father worked at Pratt & Whitney, building aircraft for the war effort. I remember starting kindergarten there. We walked to school every day. At the time, it felt like a very long walk, though it was probably only about half a mile. Still, to a little girl, it felt like a journey.
Before my younger siblings started school, we moved back to Mars Hill. We lived on ACI Street in a house without running water. That is something I remember clearly. Bath night came once a week. We bathed in a big galvanized tub, probably on Saturdays. Life was simpler then, but it was full in its own way.
Later, my father bought a farm on the Presque Isle Road. For a while, he grew potatoes, but eventually he stopped and began raising turkeys. We had many of them. At Thanksgiving and Christmas, he dressed all the turkeys himself. People called in their orders, and we delivered them. Once I got my driver’s license, that became my job. It was a good job, especially compared to some of the other farm work. My brother Bob and I both had licenses, so we shared that responsibility.
I went to grammar school near where my Blanchard grandparents lived. That school building is gone now, but the memories remain. My grandparents played a large role in my life. My grandfather had a team of horses, and I often say he was probably the first garbage man in Mars Hill. He went around to the stores, collected their trash, burned what he could, and dumped the rest into the Presque Isle stream. One time, the wagon caught on fire, and he had to unhitch the horses quickly to save them. Those kinds of moments stay with you.
I attended ACI for high school and was part of the last class to graduate before it became Central Aroostook High School. After graduation, I went to nursing school through a joint program between Eastern Maine General Hospital and the University of Maine. I completed one year. Then life took a turn. My boyfriend, who later became my husband, was ready for us to begin our life together. So I came home, and we got married.
His father bought us a farm just across the road from where I live now. Farming became our life. My husband farmed potatoes for many years. He farmed with a friend, and at harvest time they separated their crops. A family from Eagle Lake came down each year to help with picking. Eventually, my husband had one of the first row harvesters in Easton. He was very skilled with mechanics and equipment.
We had three children. When my two older children started school, the principal asked me to work as a teacher’s aide. I did that for a while. Then our third child was born, and I stayed home again until she started school. After that, I returned to school myself, attending Northern Maine Vocational Technical Institute for nursing. They gave me credit for the nursing coursework I had completed earlier, which helped me finish.
I went to work at Gould Memorial Hospital in Presque Isle, later known as TAMC and now part of Northern Light. Over the years, I worked my way up and eventually became head of nursing. I stayed there until I retired. I also served on the Easton School Board for several years.
Church was always part of my life, even though the rhythm changed over time. My father-in-law was superintendent of the Methodist Sunday School in Easton, and he talked me into teaching. My husband attended church with me for a while. Later, when I worked as a nurse and had to work every other weekend, I stopped attending regularly. After I retired, my sister Jackie and I felt drawn back to church. By then, the Easton church had closed, so we returned to Mars Hill—the church that had always been mine.
My grandmother went there faithfully. She walked to church every Sunday, and many times I walked with her. I never officially left that church. Every once in a while, I received a letter asking if I wanted to withdraw my membership. I always said no.
One of my strongest church memories is Sunday school. It was huge back then. Mildred Smith was the superintendent, and she did so much to make it thrive. Church music also left a deep mark on me. Even now, my favorite hymn is “I'll Fly Away.” That song carries hope and promise. It reminds me of my grandmother’s faith, of heaven, and of trusting God through every season of life.
Life was not without hardship. The most difficult time came when farming was no longer sustainable. One afternoon, I took my husband his supper out in the field, and he told me he was done. Potatoes were selling for ten dollars a barrel. It simply wasn’t enough. It came suddenly, and I remember feeling afraid about how we would manage. I was working as a nurse, but the uncertainty was heavy.
In time, my husband worked as a mechanic for a trucking company and later for the town of Easton on the highway department. Financially, things improved. Gradually, we sold pieces of our land. Houses were built where fields once were. Eventually, we sold the farm to a young couple who did very well there.
Later in life, my husband Everett was diagnosed with multiple myeloma. We traveled to Boston for treatment, including a stem cell transplant. During that time, a young boy from the family who bought the farm used to ride his bicycle up to our house to visit Everett. That simple kindness meant more than words can express.
Everett passed away in his seventies. We had been married for more than fifty years. Looking back, I would say the secret to our marriage was simple—we got along. We had our moments, especially during the demanding farming seasons, but overall he was a good, kind, generous man. Even after he stopped farming, he kept a large garden and shared vegetables with neighbors whether they asked for them or not.
My proudest moments in life are my children. One memory stands out especially. My oldest daughter graduated from the University of Maine a semester early and already had a job in journalism. Watching my children grow into capable, caring adults has been my greatest joy.
When I look at the world today, I feel concerned. People seem ruder. Politics trouble me. Things are very different from when I was young. Still, my greatest hope for my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren is simple—that they find meaningful work, live good lives, and that the world becomes a better place for them.
The most important lesson I have learned is this: sometimes things look very dark, and you cannot see a good outcome. But if you trust God and wait, the season will pass. So far, it always has.
If I had a role model, it would be my grandmother. She was faithful, strong, and honest. When something truly mattered, she stood firm. She was in church every Sunday. Her faith was steady and quiet, but it was real. I was close to her. Her life shaped me more than I understood at the time. Only later did I realize how deeply her example had formed me. If I am remembered in the way my grandmother is remembered—for faithfulness, integrity, and quiet strength—I would be deeply grateful.
Before my younger siblings started school, we moved back to Mars Hill. We lived on ACI Street in a house without running water. That is something I remember clearly. Bath night came once a week. We bathed in a big galvanized tub, probably on Saturdays. Life was simpler then, but it was full in its own way.
Later, my father bought a farm on the Presque Isle Road. For a while, he grew potatoes, but eventually he stopped and began raising turkeys. We had many of them. At Thanksgiving and Christmas, he dressed all the turkeys himself. People called in their orders, and we delivered them. Once I got my driver’s license, that became my job. It was a good job, especially compared to some of the other farm work. My brother Bob and I both had licenses, so we shared that responsibility.
I went to grammar school near where my Blanchard grandparents lived. That school building is gone now, but the memories remain. My grandparents played a large role in my life. My grandfather had a team of horses, and I often say he was probably the first garbage man in Mars Hill. He went around to the stores, collected their trash, burned what he could, and dumped the rest into the Presque Isle stream. One time, the wagon caught on fire, and he had to unhitch the horses quickly to save them. Those kinds of moments stay with you.
I attended ACI for high school and was part of the last class to graduate before it became Central Aroostook High School. After graduation, I went to nursing school through a joint program between Eastern Maine General Hospital and the University of Maine. I completed one year. Then life took a turn. My boyfriend, who later became my husband, was ready for us to begin our life together. So I came home, and we got married.
His father bought us a farm just across the road from where I live now. Farming became our life. My husband farmed potatoes for many years. He farmed with a friend, and at harvest time they separated their crops. A family from Eagle Lake came down each year to help with picking. Eventually, my husband had one of the first row harvesters in Easton. He was very skilled with mechanics and equipment.
We had three children. When my two older children started school, the principal asked me to work as a teacher’s aide. I did that for a while. Then our third child was born, and I stayed home again until she started school. After that, I returned to school myself, attending Northern Maine Vocational Technical Institute for nursing. They gave me credit for the nursing coursework I had completed earlier, which helped me finish.
I went to work at Gould Memorial Hospital in Presque Isle, later known as TAMC and now part of Northern Light. Over the years, I worked my way up and eventually became head of nursing. I stayed there until I retired. I also served on the Easton School Board for several years.
Church was always part of my life, even though the rhythm changed over time. My father-in-law was superintendent of the Methodist Sunday School in Easton, and he talked me into teaching. My husband attended church with me for a while. Later, when I worked as a nurse and had to work every other weekend, I stopped attending regularly. After I retired, my sister Jackie and I felt drawn back to church. By then, the Easton church had closed, so we returned to Mars Hill—the church that had always been mine.
My grandmother went there faithfully. She walked to church every Sunday, and many times I walked with her. I never officially left that church. Every once in a while, I received a letter asking if I wanted to withdraw my membership. I always said no.
One of my strongest church memories is Sunday school. It was huge back then. Mildred Smith was the superintendent, and she did so much to make it thrive. Church music also left a deep mark on me. Even now, my favorite hymn is “I'll Fly Away.” That song carries hope and promise. It reminds me of my grandmother’s faith, of heaven, and of trusting God through every season of life.
Life was not without hardship. The most difficult time came when farming was no longer sustainable. One afternoon, I took my husband his supper out in the field, and he told me he was done. Potatoes were selling for ten dollars a barrel. It simply wasn’t enough. It came suddenly, and I remember feeling afraid about how we would manage. I was working as a nurse, but the uncertainty was heavy.
In time, my husband worked as a mechanic for a trucking company and later for the town of Easton on the highway department. Financially, things improved. Gradually, we sold pieces of our land. Houses were built where fields once were. Eventually, we sold the farm to a young couple who did very well there.
Later in life, my husband Everett was diagnosed with multiple myeloma. We traveled to Boston for treatment, including a stem cell transplant. During that time, a young boy from the family who bought the farm used to ride his bicycle up to our house to visit Everett. That simple kindness meant more than words can express.
Everett passed away in his seventies. We had been married for more than fifty years. Looking back, I would say the secret to our marriage was simple—we got along. We had our moments, especially during the demanding farming seasons, but overall he was a good, kind, generous man. Even after he stopped farming, he kept a large garden and shared vegetables with neighbors whether they asked for them or not.
My proudest moments in life are my children. One memory stands out especially. My oldest daughter graduated from the University of Maine a semester early and already had a job in journalism. Watching my children grow into capable, caring adults has been my greatest joy.
When I look at the world today, I feel concerned. People seem ruder. Politics trouble me. Things are very different from when I was young. Still, my greatest hope for my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren is simple—that they find meaningful work, live good lives, and that the world becomes a better place for them.
The most important lesson I have learned is this: sometimes things look very dark, and you cannot see a good outcome. But if you trust God and wait, the season will pass. So far, it always has.
If I had a role model, it would be my grandmother. She was faithful, strong, and honest. When something truly mattered, she stood firm. She was in church every Sunday. Her faith was steady and quiet, but it was real. I was close to her. Her life shaped me more than I understood at the time. Only later did I realize how deeply her example had formed me. If I am remembered in the way my grandmother is remembered—for faithfulness, integrity, and quiet strength—I would be deeply grateful.
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