31 Aug 1905 – 22 Jan 1986
Wife of Louis Sanders Cardon
Stories From My Life
By
Winnafred Bellamy Cardon
1905-1986
Compiled by Brookie Peterson
2005
Trip to Europe
July-December 1970
Text: Journal of Winnafred Cardon
Photos: Louis and Winnafred Cardon Slide Collection
Compiled by their granddaughter Kerolann Cardon Haslam in 2021
WINNAFRED BELLAMY CARDON
A tribute given at her funeral service
January 25, 1986
by her daughter, Brookie Peterson
Practical, straightforward, full of energy and determination, Mother was one of the real workers of this world–a doer. Far from wasting time, she saved it, constantly mining it for every use she could make of it. I have been asking family members what they think of when they recall the years we spent together.
As an older sister she was soft-spoken, but determined, gentle, with a sweet strength that was a great comfort to her mother when she was left a widow with five young children. In her teen years, she sewed most of the dresses her little sister wore.
I think her childhood was a marvelously happy one. She loved her parents dearly and was pleased to tell how much they loved one another. She would often tell us how when her father, a working rancher, would come home, he would ride his horse into the doorway of the kitchen and shoot his pistol into the air to let her mother know he was home again. Although her father died when she was just fifteen, he left a legacy of happy family memories which would last a lifetime for his children. When she was about eleven, they purchased a car. There was only one other in the mining town of Superior, Arizona, where she grew up. Before 1920, they had toured all over the west and along the Pacific Coast in those marvelous classical cars of her day.
Mother left us an abundant collection of stories about her life. My favorite is one called “Drama on Monday”. She had a gift to take a common everyday situation and make it into a vibrant story. In this little essay, we have a cameo sketch of washday in the pioneer West. I would like to read “Drama on Monday” by Winnafred Cardon. Because of the love she bore them, I know the reunion with her parents, grandparents and sister will be a joyful one. All of her brothers and sisters are dear to her. Only one
was unable to be here today. About three years ago, two of her brothers and her two sisters took the time to come here to Provo to be with Mother. She was in the hospital, but she rallied and felt well during their visit. And that was what they did–visited, recalled and relived their years together. It was a truly happy time for her.
When Mother was only sixteen, she met my father, Louis. They began a courtship leading to a marriage which lasted more than sixty years. They met at a dance at the social club, the center of activity in Superior. There were picnics and hay rides, but the serious courting began when the two families made a trip to Salt Lake City, traveling together more than a week. Their married life began one hot July day in Arizona. The temple was not yet built in Mesa; they were married by the Bishop in the living room of
her home in Superior. Her mother, Mae, prepared a bounteous feast of fried chicken with frilly papers on the drumsticks, and they all ate around a large table which was setup in the living room after the ceremony. By early afternoon they had started out in the Arizona summer to drive to Tucson and begin their years together.
Five of us were born into that new family–first I, and then my four brothers. Mother taught us we could do anything. She really believed it. She said all we needed were our own talents and the library. We grew up looking things up in the encyclopedia. She often volunteered us, while we were developing those talents, to give talks or participate in programs.
She was most generous with time and effort. Once there was a family who lived near us. They had never traveled anywhere, so she invited the two boys to go on a family vacation to Yellowstone Park with us in order that they could have a travel experience and learn a little bit about the world outside of their own neighborhood. Toward her grandchildren she bore a special love with an interest in each as a unique spirit of great promise.
She was born to be a teacher. She taught boys and girls for twenty years. They were individuals to her. She became as interested in their development as a parent might be. Perhaps her greatest achievement was with a little girl named Paula. It was one year when she was teaching the fourth grade. Paula had never spoken aloud in school during the four years she had been attending. Her mother was the only one she would talk to at all. As the year went by, she grew to be very fond of her teacher. She would stay after school to help Mother clean the school room.
One day Mother thought of playing with her with some puppets that were in the room. Paula loved this. Every afternoon they did it, and one day Paula’s puppet began to talk. Before the year was over, she was talking to children on the playground. By the time the next school year started, she could talk in class and had a normal adjustment. You can imagine how her parents felt about Mother.
The book Colorful Colorado was an outgrowth of a need she saw for a history book about this state in the southwest. That particular history had always intrigued her, and she had a knowledge of how to make it appealing to children. Her co-authorship of it gave her great satisfaction.
One of her hallmarks was not to be critical. She often told us that if we couldn’t say anything nice, not to say anything. She exemplified the principle.
In 1970, my parents had a trip together that was one of life’s highlights for them. They went to twenty-two countries in Europe and two in Africa. They stayed six months, doing it in a most economic way, at “bed and breakfast” accommodations and driving a Volkswagen. They crossed and criss-crossed France twenty times that summer. Every Sunday found them in church, for they located it earlier in the week. They spent one whole week at the London Temple. Mother wrote it all down from the Isle of Capri to the
Omeramergau pageant. It was fortunate they could have such a memorable journey, for she was never really well after that year.
The last fifteen years of her life were full of ups and downs. Together they lived and suffered through her Parkinson’s disease. At different times we would think it was bad, but it seemed it could always get worse. If you can imagine what it was like for this exuberant spirit–always moving, electric with energy, to be imprisoned in the weakened body, perhaps you may realize the trial by which was tested. For years she had prayed that she would never be a burden to anyone, that she wouldn’t be dependent. Perhaps she had a premonition–she mentioned it long before she was sick. She finally became totally dependent in every way; it was the test the Lord chose for her. I believe she passed. We heard few complaints over the years. She was indeed patient in her affliction, though often depressed by it.
It was a great trial for Daddy too. They would have loved to travel, to work in the Temple, to garden together, to take long walks. Instead, they didn’t travel, she watched him garden for her, and their walks were short. Almost every waking hour was filled with caring for her tremendous physical needs.
That her life lasting this long was a monument to his devotion. The way he cared for her was pure and selfless love. He learned to cook for her (she confided he burned less every year); he bathed her, read to her, dressed her, combed her hair and put on her make-up each morning. At the age of 84, he was out of bed early, spent ten or twelve hours daily with her and tucked her in at night after a story and a back rub. A few times his own health almost failed with the physical burden of it. Their love grew stronger. The
people over at the nursing home who saw her, no matter how weak and ill she was, would often remark how “lucky” she was because she had a husband who loved her so much.
Each time he left her to go on an errand, he kissed her and even though she couldn’t move a foot by herself, he asked her to promise him she would be there when he returned. Through it all he told us often how he loved to care for her.
Now the long testing is over. Their very heartstrings were wrenched with it, and still they stood firm. They are worthy of a great blessing, and I feel they will receive it. It was a crowning achievement–one of devotion, loyalty and love which we have been permitted to witness, an example from which we may all grow and become better people. I hope it may be into the kind of family who will be joined together for all eternity.
Winnafred Cardon
Winnafred Cardon 80, died Wednesday, Jan 22, 1986, in Provo. She was born in Mesa. Ariz., on Aug. 31, 1905, to Worth T. and Mae Lamb Bellamy. She married Louis Sanders Cardon in the Mesa, Ariz. Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
She was reared in Superior, Ariz. After her marriage, she and her husband resided in several western states. She was a member of the LDS Church and served in many capacities in its organizations.
She graduated from Tempe, Ariz., Normal School and Adams State College, Alamosa, Colo.
A teacher in Colorado elementary schools for 20 years, she co-authored the book, “Colorful Colorado” still widely used in Colorado schools.
Survivors include her husband, one daughter and four sons: Mrs. Burke (Brookie) Peterson, Bountiful, Louis Cardon and Grover Cardon both Orem, Marriner Cardon, Phoenix, Ariz. Phillip Cardon, Moraga, Calif.: 23 grandchildren, 29 great-grandchildren, two brothers one sister: Leonard Bellamy, Bellflower, Calif., Bert Bellamy, Phoenix, Ariz.; Brookie Bellamy Brown, Tempe, Ariz., two half-brothers, Robert Kellis, Los Angeles, Calif., and Ray Kellis, Glendale, Ariz.
Services will be Saturday, 11 a.m. at the Sunset 2nd Ward Chapel, 2530 W. 250 S., Provo, where friends may call Saturday one hour prior to services.
Burial will be in the Orem City Cemetery under the direction of Berg Mortuary.
-Published in The Daily Herald (Provo, Ut), Friday, Jan 24, 1986, Page 4
Orem City Cemetery, Orem, Utah County, Utah, Plot: A-084-10
