"OUR WOMEN OF SANDWICH"
(2020 Summer Exhibit)
BERNICE "BUNNY" ADAMS VITTUM MICHAEL
1914-2018
Born in Manchester, NH on July 13, 1914, Bunny lived there until she was 21. She was the youngest of four children – Herman, Hazel, Frank, and Bunny. A neighbor had given her the nickname “Bunny” when she was a small child and it stuck!
Bunny attended Keene Normal School, a teacher training school; a profession which always held her interest. One of twelve students participating in the school’s first four-year degree program, she graduated with a degree in education and substituted at Manchester High School. When she heard there were job openings in the Lakes Region, she decided to move. In 1935, while waitressing tables at the Winnicoette in the Weirs, the headmaster of the Quimby School in Center Sandwich offered Bunny a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to teach Home Economics. Bunny remembers coming into Sandwich for the first time, and as she was coming down Wentworth Hill, she thought it was the most beautiful town she had ever seen. She remembers thinking she never wanted to leave – and she never did!
Bunny loved all aspects of domesticity – from family relationships to sewing and cooking – and the school had an excellent program. She lived in the Homesteading Cottage on “campus”, where students learned all aspects of taking care of and running a household (and Bunny got her cottage cleaned each week!). Before leaving the Quimby School, Bunny and another teacher were asked by the Headmaster, Mr. Harold Presbee, to write the school’s song, which was based on the school’s motto: Character, Skill and Service. She never forgot that song!
In those days, female teachers could not be married, so when Bunny was married two years later in 1937 to Lewis Marshall Vittum, she had to leave her beloved teaching job. She and Lewis resided in East Sandwich, and in 1938 Lewis Jr. (Lew) was born. Only married a few years, Lewis Sr. died unexpectedly at the very young age of 32.
Not wanting to leave Sandwich, Bunny worked as a librarian at the Samuel H. Wentworth Library from 1942-1944. Around the same time, her friend, Thelma Burrows, helped her to find a job. The Peaslee children – Charles, Earle and Carol – having lost their parents, needed caring. Bunny and Lewis, Jr. moved into the Peaslee home, which is now the home of Richard Stoehr on Grove Street [Editor’s note: Judith Stoehr, who passed away in 2019, was a staff member at the Historical Society]. Two years later, Bunny’s mom, Grammy Adams, moved in to help. It was a very special time for Bunny, especially having her mother around. Bunny’s mother came from County Galway, Ireland. Her father passed away when she was only seventeen, but she was so proud of his work at the Amoskeag Mills in Manchester.
Many remember Bunny as a Postal Clerk in the Center Sandwich Post Office, where she also served as the Acting Postmaster when Arthur Heard went off to serve his country in WWII. Bunny began working at the Post Office in 1945 and retired from the postal service in 1981 after a remarkable 36 years of service.
In 1948 Bunny remarried. She had known Monroe “Mike” Michael informally around town from attending dances and programs put on for the boys returning from war. After they married, they moved to West Sandwich and had four boys – Tony, Tim, Kevin, and Alex. Her “boys” meant the world to her. She was also blessed and thankful for her six grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren - not to mention her extended church and town family!
Bunny and Mike were very active in the community. Bunny sang in the choir, taught Sunday school, and was a lifelong member of the Historical Society, Eastern Star, Grange, Sandwich Woman’s Club and Ladies Aid Society. During WWII, she was the Vice President of the local chapter of the Red Cross. She and Mike were volunteers for Meals-on-Wheels helping with both prep and delivery.
Being Bunny’s granddaughter meant being a part of a big, warm circle. It meant being a lucky witness to grace and humor; to how to be a good friend and the importance of family; to wisdom and resilience and quiet strength and community service; to identifying the special qualities in everyone she encountered and to always having an extra seat at the table for anyone who could use it. It meant learning how to recognize beauty in difficult times and noticing that she always had a kind word to share.
It meant the comforting crackle of Big Band music on the living room record player and delighting in her reliable toe tap, a bop of the hips and a gentle clap whenever music played. It meant a bourbon in the evening with Gramper and white wine and thinly sliced cheese and crackers with old and new friends. It meant a cheerful holiday necklace and earrings and a single barrette in her hair. It meant homemade cookies, whole milk and a handwritten note for occasions big or small. (In her later years, she remarked on her failing handwriting with its “involuntary flourishes”. I love every one of them).
She was our Google for world history and local history. She remembered the end of World War I and the name of a neighbor’s dog from decades ago. She knew the names of the great grandchildren of friends and of relatives in Ireland and she had her own, sweet friendship with many of those children.
Being Bunny’s granddaughter meant a warm hand to hold yours and knowing that a gentle touch is often better than words. I am forever blessed to call her Grammie and am comforted by the big, warm circle she created for all of us.
Kathy Vittum
June 2020
It meant the comforting crackle of Big Band music on the living room record player and delighting in her reliable toe tap, a bop of the hips and a gentle clap whenever music played. It meant a bourbon in the evening with Gramper and white wine and thinly sliced cheese and crackers with old and new friends. It meant a cheerful holiday necklace and earrings and a single barrette in her hair. It meant homemade cookies, whole milk and a handwritten note for occasions big or small. (In her later years, she remarked on her failing handwriting with its “involuntary flourishes”. I love every one of them).
She was our Google for world history and local history. She remembered the end of World War I and the name of a neighbor’s dog from decades ago. She knew the names of the great grandchildren of friends and of relatives in Ireland and she had her own, sweet friendship with many of those children.
Being Bunny’s granddaughter meant a warm hand to hold yours and knowing that a gentle touch is often better than words. I am forever blessed to call her Grammie and am comforted by the big, warm circle she created for all of us.
Kathy Vittum
June 2020