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Nova Rose O'Brien
b.7 Nov 1918 Raymond, Alberta, Canada
d.19 Sep 1981 Huntsville, Madison, Arkansas, United States
Family tree▼ (edit)
m. 2 Oct 1908
(edit)
m. 12 Aug 1950
Facts and Events
Nova Rose O'Brien Thomas
A Brief Autobiography
Clarence O'Brien and Ada Palmer were married in Great Falls, Montana on the 2nd of October, 1908. Ada was 17 years old and had "eloped" over the objections of her father. Dad was not baptized into the church despite the fact that his parents were both members and Rebecca Angelina King, his mother, was born in Morley, Hancock County, Illinois. Some unfortunate happening had caused her to become inactive, and she had never had the younger children baptized. The young couple set up housekeeping in the little 2-room home Grandmother O'Brien had occupied and later moved it across the street from Grandpa and Grandma Palmer, where they added to it. Helen Rebecca was born Nov. 2, 1909. She had dark hair and brown eyes. Ada Marie, a blue-eyed blonde with dimples, arrived July 18, 1911. Next on the scene was Clarence Delman on Feb. 7, 1914, a dark-eyed son. Sylvia Lucille, another blue-eyed blonde, joined the family April 26, 1916. She succumbed to pneumonia Nov. 7, 1917. On Nov. 7, 1918, I, Nova Rose, another dark-eyed child, was born. Mom said Sylvia died just as the noon whistle blew, and I was born one year later at the same hour. Last of our family, Clayton Palmer, another blue-eyed blonde, arrived May 12, 1921. On June 26, 1922, Dad, who had been ill with typhoid fever for some time, passed away in the Galt Hospital in Lethbridge. He was buried in the Raymond Cemetery. Thus began Mom's courageous and successful efforts to provide for 5 small children. We never even realized what a struggle it was for her and certainly never felt deprived. As I was just past 3 years of age at the time I do not remember Dad. I was grown before I realized he wasn't perfect! In March 1924, he was baptized by proxy, and in April of the same year the family was sealed in the Alberta Temple with Mom's youngest brother, Arlo Palmer, being proxy for Dad. We all went to Cardston on the afternoon train and stayed in a private home and returned on the morning train. I vaguely remember this event. In Sept. 1924, I started school in the old public school in Raymond. Helen had made me a new dress with a plain yellow top with an inset pocket and a yellow checked skirt. My first grade teacher was Verona Pilling, who later married my cousin, Ray Nalder. I was something of a tomboy. There was a girl in our room, Melba Olson, who was very timid. Later Verona told me one afternoon Melba had stayed in crying about something that she was afraid of when Verona looked out the window and saw me walking the top rail of the fence, so she called Melba to watch me. Viola Wing taught a mixed class of grades 1 & 2, and later in the year some of us were transferred to her room to prepare us to skip a grade. Margaret Lafferty and I got measles, so lost out, and the others went on to skip a grade. I was an honor student the first year. This was a system whereby those who made a high grade and hadn't too many absences or tardies were released two weeks ahead of the rest for summer vacation. For the program in the opera house I had a new blue satin dress trimmed with lace, brown slippers with an instep and an ankle strap, and a Japanese oiled paper parasol, which Helen and Marie bought for me at the old Togo Cafe. The McMullins lived across the street from us during all of our childhood. Doris and I were always pals. She married Jack Gray, and they lived in Taber. Frances Brown (Bullock) was also a friend and lived with us one year to go to school. We were a closely-knit family and liked to do things together. Often at nite we would lie in bed and play guessing games. On Dec. 4, 1926, I was baptized in the font in the basement of the old high school by Arthur McMullin and confirmed by the Stake Patriarch, David F. Fawns. We had a wonderful, carefree childhood. In the summer we would walk the long way to the flume to go swimming. They did build a swimming pool, wooden, in town, but it soon deteriorated. Later on, when I was a teen-ager, they built a cement one beside the high school. There were telephone poles down the middle of the street west of us and a "road" on each side. The roads were soft dirt in the summer and felt so good on bare feet. We used to play "Run, Sheep, Run" under the light post in the street. Also we sometimes went "swimming" in the irrigation ditch. We had a big yard, and the kids would all gather there and play baseball. One time Delman was given an old billy goat whose name was "Spug." We used to ride his bony old back. He could be quite ornery. Chased one of Marie's boyfriends away. He didn't care much for Uncle Wiff. We had outdoor plumbing, and sometimes Spug slept there. One night Uncle Wiff went out there and got all sat down when Spug came to life. U.W. had to sit there and hold Spug's head and holler for help. Delman, as most boys, had trouble getting things finished. One time he dug a new hole for the two-holer rite in front of the door. One of Marie's boyfriends fell in it. Another time we were having water trouble, and he dug a big hole by the corner of the house. I don't know how long it was there, but Aunt Mamie & Bill & Fonda were up from Utah, and Fonda went out one nite and fell in the hole, which was now full of water. One time I made a batch of stretch candy and was carrying it outside to cool and spilled it all over my rite hand. It was very painful, and Delman maintains I ran around the house screaming, "I can't stand it!" (and I guess I did!) I made the most of my injury at school, because I couldn't possibly write with my left hand. This was one of the times Uncle Les administered to me, and it always worked. In the summer we always had a bed out under the trees. If it rained, we had to jump up and grab the mattress and bedding and run in the house to sleep on the floor. One nite I was sleeping with Doris and Edith. Doris went to sleep first, and we tied her long blonde hair to the bedstead and her toe to the dog and called the dog. In the winter as children we wore "long-handled" underwear, black stockings, and high-top shoes to school. Then scarves, coats, stocking caps, mitts, and high-buttoned overshoes. Still, I remember many times coming home through the snow and blizzards, crying with the cold. Winters were much more severe then. The snow would drift up over the fence in hills, which we would slide down on our sleds. There was a pond in our pasture a block away, and that's where I learned to ice skate by trial and error and all by myself. I did a lot of skating at the rink once I learned. The Church sponsored a lot of dances, and there was always children's in the early afternoon, Juniors in the early evening, and then the adult dances. It was fun, and most "Mormon" kids became good dancers. We also had plays and cantatas, which gave us opportunities to perform. They were a lot of work, and I remember when Mom was Primary President how many hours they spent making crepe paper costumes, also the many hours they made doughnuts to sell to raise funds to keep the Primary going. Mom used to sing us a lot of fun songs and a lot of sad ones. She was always a good sport with us and a really good mother. Uncle Wiff had a Ford pickup and would sometimes give all of us kids a ride to school. One time Doris almost fell out - sort of hung by her heels - and we were all scared. Uncle Wiff was killed in his pickup when hit by a streetcar in North Lethbridge. Mom always thought it was foul play. Grandpa died of old age when I was 10. He had been promised he could live until he was ready to go, and I guess he was. I remember he looked like one of the old Patriarchs in the Bible when he was in his coffin. He wasn't much of a laugher and always said, "Fools laugh," but he had a rich supply of stories, which I wish I could remember. What a treasure a well-kept journal would be. Helen and Busch were married in Sept. 1929, and Don was born in 1930, Donnell O'Brien Sabey. We were all so proud of him, and instead of staying home with him we all wanted to take him with us to the phone, and at a young age he would sit up and watch. One nite Marie and Helen took him, when he was tiny, and left him in the lobby. Helen refused to go back for him, so Marie went, and Lowell Court said, "Did you forget something?" One time I tipped him in the ditch, and he was all covered with water and dry leaves. Guy O'Brien Sabey, a red-head, was born June 4, 1935. He had a lisp and was a cute child. One Christmas we were all at Helen's to open gifts, and, when it came his turn, we would hurry him up, and he would get so excited and just tear the paper. We nearly all got houseslippers, and he would say, "More slippers." Evelyn Rae came along Feb. 24, 1939, and as the first little girl was most welcome. We all thought she was special. As she grew she couldn't say Evelyn but said En, so we started calling her Enny Penny, and Penny stays with her. Sheryl Kathleen arrived Dec. 31, 1942. She was a gaumless* kid. When I tell you Busch said of her, "There goes Nova O'Brien," you'll know what I mean. In 1934, I began working in the Post Office after school and Saturday for $10 a month, which in those days went a long way. The heavy mail came in at about 4 or 4:30, and we worked until 7. The customer was always right, and there were no mail strikes. During the Christmas rush, it was no big deal to work till midnite. I remember one night I was tying up out-going mail, and the package slipped and flew all over the floor. I sat down on the floor and cried. L.D. King never did get over it. When junk mail came in, Unc Les would say, "Never do today what you can put off till tomorrow," and we would leave it for a freer time. He had nick-names for everyone. For instance the Catholic priest, Father Foote, became Pa Toe. ************************* NOTES This ends this version of Nova Thomas' autobiography. Aunt Marie informs me that the boyfriend run off by the billy goat was Helen's boyfriend, not hers. * "Gaumless" is a term referring to a combination of ignorance, awkwardness, etc., and roughly translates as "turkey." We, too, were gaumless kids. Rex Thomas, Jr., a son Image Gallery
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