Okay, I am really mad at myself. I have wanted to try something new called Memorable Monday and was looking forward to it all weekend, Monday comes and I forgot. Needless to say, you are getting it on Tuesday this week. I think it is somewhat self explanatory so here we go.
This is a picture of
Laura Maxwell Slade,
my great grandmother on my mothers side, for whom I am named. She was born April 4th 1913 in a little town in Arizona. This picture was taken when she was 15 or 16. This picture has sat in my grandmas home for as long as I can remember. It also now sits on my mantle.
Laura Maxwell Slade,
my great grandmother on my mothers side, for whom I am named. She was born April 4th 1913 in a little town in Arizona. This picture was taken when she was 15 or 16. This picture has sat in my grandmas home for as long as I can remember. It also now sits on my mantle.
This was taken a few years later with her brother. My great grandmother was an
AMAZING
woman. When I am asked if I could pick one person dead or alive to chat with, she is who I would want.
She and her husband had a love for each other that one only reads about in fairy tales. When her husband would come home after a long day, he would come and get her and they would ride their horses together as long and as often as they could. Whenever I hear the song "Cowboy Take Me Away", I think of them. They were the epitomy of love,
a love with
NO END
He was never the same without her.
In traveling to Arizona several times in the past 5 years I have come to know many of her nieces and nephews, friends and acquaintances. Never has there been a negative word said about her. She was kind, accepting of everyone even when she was the only one (for example living so close to both the Navajo and Apache Indian reservation and the Mexican border brought a lot of people through town and associating with them was frowned upon) and she taught her children to love one another for who they are, not the color of their skin.
Laura in front of the Nutrioso post office
She knew everyone (she was the post mistress), she took people in when they had no where else to go, and always had a house full of people for dinner whether it be cowboys, ward members, some Navajos passing through or a family stranded in town until morning. I am told I am very much like her in that sense... we never have an empty house and I take in everyone that needs a place to stay for the night.
She died at the age of 42 of breast cancer that eventually spread all over her body. They say that every person within at least a 100 mile radius was at her funeral... white, black, hispanic or indian, and there wasn't a person she had ever met who didn't hold a special place in their heart for
Laura
If I can be half the woman she was, I consider myself lucky.
Her name will not end with me as there are several women in our family who carry her name, but I do know that my daughter will be a
Laura
and her legacy will continue to
live and thrive
AMAZING
woman. When I am asked if I could pick one person dead or alive to chat with, she is who I would want.
She and her husband had a love for each other that one only reads about in fairy tales. When her husband would come home after a long day, he would come and get her and they would ride their horses together as long and as often as they could. Whenever I hear the song "Cowboy Take Me Away", I think of them. They were the epitomy of love,
a love with
NO END
He was never the same without her.In traveling to Arizona several times in the past 5 years I have come to know many of her nieces and nephews, friends and acquaintances. Never has there been a negative word said about her. She was kind, accepting of everyone even when she was the only one (for example living so close to both the Navajo and Apache Indian reservation and the Mexican border brought a lot of people through town and associating with them was frowned upon) and she taught her children to love one another for who they are, not the color of their skin.
Laura in front of the Nutrioso post officeShe knew everyone (she was the post mistress), she took people in when they had no where else to go, and always had a house full of people for dinner whether it be cowboys, ward members, some Navajos passing through or a family stranded in town until morning. I am told I am very much like her in that sense... we never have an empty house and I take in everyone that needs a place to stay for the night.
She died at the age of 42 of breast cancer that eventually spread all over her body. They say that every person within at least a 100 mile radius was at her funeral... white, black, hispanic or indian, and there wasn't a person she had ever met who didn't hold a special place in their heart for
Laura
If I can be half the woman she was, I consider myself lucky.
Her name will not end with me as there are several women in our family who carry her name, but I do know that my daughter will be a
Laura
and her legacy will continue to
live and thrive
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