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May 1940. "Mrs. Marinus W. Hansen, wife of Farm Security Administration rehabilitation farmer in Box Elder County, Utah, has dinner with her three children. On the table are home-produced milk, homemade bread, home-canned peaches, home-churned butter and fish caught by the three children the day this picture was taken. Homemade dill pickles provided a relish." Medium-format nitrate negative, photographer unknown. View full size.
Find-a-Grave also names several other members of the family who are buried at Riverview Cemetery in Box Elder County.
Gudrun Elizabeth Pukkendal Hansen (mother)
- Born December 3, 1895 - Died November 14, 1977 (age 81)
Helen Hansen Carlson (at left in picture)
- Born December 16, 1928 - Died July 4, 1968 (age 39)
Don Marinus Hansen (at right in picture)
- Born February 12, 1923 - Died February 9, 2011 (age 87)
Two boys not in picture:
Neal W. Hansen
- Born December 26, 1915 - Died October 16, 1967 (age 51)
Carlos A. Hansen
- Born April 23, 1918 - Died February 19, 1943 (age 24) in the infamous WW II Bataan Death March. Don had a son named Carlos (1948-1994), probably in Don's older brother's honor.
Here's an undated but much later picture of Don:
Looks like it could be a pair of bib overalls.
According to Ancestry.com and findagrave.com, Marinus Woodruff Hansen was born 5 June 1891 in Franklin Idaho, and died 21 October 1964. He was buried in Riverview Cemetery in Tremonton, Box Elder County Utah.
OMG! What twinkling eye Mrs. Hansen has! They had food on the table, clothes on their backs and a roof over their heads= so happy. What a great family picture.
like the milk mustache on Gertrude. And it's probably on the rest of the children. Mom doesn't have one. And the mismatched glasses. Just like in my family when I was a kid. The drink of choice was iced tea though. Milk sometimes but especially in the morning for breakfast.
I noticed that the mother and the oldest daughter are both wearing aprons. My mother used to make me put one on when I was helping her prepare dinner. I was also wondering what the denim things are on the left hand side of the picture, next to the mother - jeans or a jacket?
Completely agree with OTY's statement about a place at the table.
My mother-in-law grew up on a farm in Minnesota in the teens and twenties. I remember discovering how to make bread back in the 1970s and telling her about it. Although she was happy for my enthusiasm, it was hard for HER to work up any. She said that her mother almost always made bread for she and her 7 siblings. On the very are occasions that they got to eat store-bought bread, they were THRILLED because, to them, it was "like cake"!
Non-Pasteurized? *Gasp* How are they still alive?
I never expected to see something from MY neck of the woods, here, but I live in Box Elder County, Utah! This area was settled by Scandinavians and there are lots of Hansens (and Jensens, Jeppsens, Rasmussens, and all kind of other "sens").
I just learned that this family was from Tremonton, Utah, 20 miles north of me. Don served in the Marine Corps during WWII. He just passed away, in 2011, or I would contact him. I will see if I can find any descendants of this family. I'm sure they would be very happy to see this every day scene from their family's history, frozen in time, here on Shorpy!
That's mom Elizabeth with oldest daughter Gertrude, her brother Don and little sis Helen. Younger brothers Mack and Clifford might be at the kids' table. Where's Poppa?
Having grown up in a close-knit family of anywhere from six to eight people together at every meal time, I can tell you that having the reassuring knowledge that there is a place for you in the family is what I feel really gives people a sense of security. I notice it in very young toddlers and kids too, when there is going to be food served to a group. They seek out their space and yearn to be included as a special recognition of their importance. Our meals were rarely elaborate either, but the camaraderie, the laughter, discussion, whatever interactions involve the entire group gives one a good feeling of belonging, which is why I absolutely hate the design of a "bar" in kitchens where everyone sits in a long row or stands over the sink to dine. That strong feeling of attachment to one's clan comes through face-to-face discussion and acceptance in my opinion.
Also, a nice selection of crackers.
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