Difference between revisions of "Rosa Yvonne Michaud"

Revision as of 16:26, 27 February 2015

Rosa Yvonne Michaud
Nationality:	American
Born:	February 8, 1900 Lewiston, Maine
Died:	, 1984 Livermore Falls, Maine
Father:	Onesime Gagnon (1892)
Mother:	Rosa Yvonne Michaud
Spouse:	Onesime Gagnon (1892)
Married:	June 26, 1916 St. Remi RC Church Keegan, Maine
Children:	Onesime Wilfred (Bill) Gagnon Cecile Rosa Gagnon Blanche Alice Gagnon Yvonne Jeanette Gagnon Albert Adelard Gagnon Rita Lumina Gagnon Norman Raymond Gagnon Robert Ronald Gagnon
Religion:	Roman Catholic (RC)
Residence:	Lewiston, Maine Livermore Falls, Maine
Profession:	Stay at home mother Shoe shop worker

Rosa's Childhood

The following account was written by Rosa herself, in response to requests by her children and grandchildren to talk about the "olden days". Only spelling and grammatical changes have been made for clarity.

"At the age of 22, he married my mother, who was only 15 years old. My mother and father had ttwelve children – 5 boys and 7 girls. However, four boys and one girl died as babies before I was born – they were Onesime, Wilfred, Eleude, Adelard and a little girl, Elaine. This must have been very difficult on my parents. I was born on February 8, 1900 in Lewiston, Maine, on a very cold night. I was the first of my parents’ children to live past the age of a baby.

When I was eight months old, my folks moved from Lewiston to Chisholm, where I grew up on Main St. There was a nice young girl who worked in our house: Aldea Beaudette. My mother had her help in the house and care for us children. Later, in 1905, my sister Aldea was born and was named for her. I remember that night. When my sister was baptized, Aldea Beaudette became her godmother, and later entered the convent.

My father was a night watchman for Maine Central Railroad, in the roundhouse right across the street from Chabot’s. There was what they call a round table – my father backed the engine onto it, to turn the engine. I had a good time playing on the train when I was young.

One spring, my father bought a little farm in East Jay, but my mother did not like it there. I went to school in a little schoolhouse that Herbert Fuller later turned into a nice home of his own. I remember my sister Ida and I picking strawberries with an old, gentleman named Parker Smith. He would talk to us in English and we would answer in French. The following fall we moved back to Chisholm, and the following spring we moved back to East Livermore, because my mother said she would try again. Unfortunately, it was no better, because my father was a night watchman. He was gone at night, and would sleep during the day, so we were alone all the time.

The second time we moved back to town, my father bought a house from Pierre Bolduc, which is the house where Altaire Legere lives today. Pierre Bolduc and his wife became my sister Ida’s godparents.

When I was 7, I remember Mr. Bolduc had moved his house behind the big house. He had buried the cess pit hole pretty good, but not good enough. My brother, who was 4 years old at the time, and myself, and my sister Ida were playing in the back of the house. The ground sank underneath my brother, and he fell into the hole. I held a stick for him to hold on to, and Ida ran to the house to get my mother. There was my brother, in shit up to his arm pits!

I had a nice childhood. I was the oldest and was allowed to stay up late at night because my father was at work. My mother and I would sing together, and she would play the mouth harp and make me dance. The following year, I started in the French school, in preparation for my communion.

The summer when I was 9, I got on the train all by myself and went to Lewiston to spend the summer with my Godparents, my mother’s uncle and aunt, who met me at the station. They had a nice big farm, where I enjoyed riding on the hay rack. I had a wonderful summer vacation.

I remember there was a livery stable in Chisholm, and every Sunday afternoon my father would rent a horse and two-seat buggy, and we would take a ride to visit our friends on their farms. We had lots of friends: the Nadeau’s, Bergeron’s, Labbee’s, Turcott’s. We were not rich, but very happy.

In May 29, 1910, I made my first communion. I remember how happy I was, dressed in white with a white veil, and how proud I was to receive Christ in my heart. It was the happiest day of my life. Then June 11, 1910, which was my mother’s birthday, I made my confirmation. I felt more grown-up and confused, because I knew the next big event in my life would be marriage.

My mother was a very pretty woman, tall and slim. I am glad she lived as long as she did, but I miss her terribly.

In the winter of 1912, we were sent to a neighbor’s house to spend the night. I was upset to go because my mother was crying, and I always hated to see my mother cry. The next morning, my father came to get us, and when we got home, we saw my mother sick in bed. She had had a baby girl in the night – what a doll she was! I asked my mother if I could be her godmother, and she said yes. How I loved that little girl, my sister Alfreda.

In December of 1912, my sister Ida took sick with a ruptured appendix at the age of eleven years old. She was taken to St. Mary’s Hospital, and died four days later. She is buried in Holy Cross cemetery in Livermore Falls. Out of twelve children, only five were left: myself, Alcide (Jim), Aldea, Lumina and Alfreda. Another baby, Rosime, who was born between Aldea and Lumina, was stillborn.

In February of 1913, when I was thirteen, a group of us were sliding down Jewel St one afternoon, on our way home to dinner. The driver of a double-runner lost control. We were lucky, Joe Fournier and I were able to pull ourselves out of the middle of the road in time. The rest of them hit the train at Chisholm crossing. However, Joseph Pomerleau and Bernadette Charest were killed, and Albert Pomerleau and Kate Herbert were badly hurt.

In March of 1914, my folks moved to a small town in the Northern part of Maine, called Keegan, along the St. John river. I went back to school there. In the fall of that year, my mother had to go to the hospital. The nearest one was in Bangor. As the oldest living child, I had to quit school to take care of the family and do the housework, because the youngest child was only 3 years old. I never returned to school."