Monday, January 30, 2012


My mother, Editha "Dixie" Reid, was born on January 30, 1913 in Manti, Utah and one of three daughters and two sons born to Edgar Thomas Reid and Ida Farnsworth Reid. Her great grandfather on her Dad's side was Frederick Walter Cox.  He was one of the very early settlers of Manti and a polygamist with five wives.  I'm related, some way, to anyone who has Cox ties in Manti.  In fact, a few years ago, I discovered a second cousin once removed quite accidentally.  He was someone that I had known for at least nine years through work situations.  It wasn't until I had an on call assignment to help him organize files when he retired that I learned he was from Manti and descended from Frederick Walter Cox.

The house where my mother grew up on Depot Street in Manti.

Even though the house I grew up in was built in the 1950s and no longer exists, my mother's home from the early 1900s is still standing in Manti.  The above pictures were taken about three years ago.

Dixie Reid, about age 20

Manti was a small, dirt road town when my mother was growing up.  She often said that she was just a nobody from the back water town of Manti, Utah.  But she ended up living in Washington DC where senators, congressmen, high level government people, including the Secretary of Agriculture were counted among her circle of associates.  For being a back water girl, she knew how to entertain at her own dinner parties and hob nob with the big wigs.

My mother was a fastidious homemaker.  Saturday mornings were always spent cleaning the house.  Since she kept things very clean during the week, the kids were given the deep cleaning chores like the bathroom and dusting the dreaded shadowboxes.  She knew how to bake and made wonderful pies, cakes, bread and rolls.  But her day to day family cooking was rather bland.  She was an excellent seamstress who made all of her girls' dresses, our play clothes, shirts, suits, baby clothes and doll clothes.

My mother from cancer in May of 1983.  She was only 70 years old.  I know that there were unfulfilled dreams in her of them being able to travel.  My Dad couldn't see the need to travel and see other places. During her last days, she told me that she was rather angry that she was going to die before my father.  Since she was nine years younger than my Dad, she thought that she'd outlive him and be able to spend time traveling with her sisters.

Happy Birthday, Mother. 

No comments:

Post a Comment