taken from original website
http://helleclan.homestead.com/June.html and http://www.illinoisancestors.org/fulton/family_histories/hellegedcom/helle_data.html#i53817
NELLIE JUNE HELLE, 15g (George A. 14, Frederick 13)
b. 02 June 1924; Cuba, IL
d. 25 Aug. 1932; Wyoming, IL
br. Sinnett Chapel Cemetery; Cuba, IL
NELLIE JUNE HELLE, the thirteenth and last child of George A. and Ida (Kaler) Helle, brought them great joy and great sorrow. Two and one-half years younger than her sister, Charlotte, she was alert, witty and had a zest for life. Because Charlotte was a day-dreamer. their mother would tell June, 'Take care of Charlotte so she doesn't get run over." (This admonishment came after Charlotte had walked across the tracks in front of a moving train.)
June and Charlotte contracted diphtheria in August of 1932 and both were ill at the same time. Charlotte recovered, but June did not and died from the ravages of the disease.
Brother, Gail, wrote of this time in their lives: 'Charlotte and June were the two little sisters, very devoted to their brothers, even me. As little kids, I probably was closer to them than anybody. We had a wonderful childhood together. This rudely ended with the passing of our little sister, June. This was a terrible shock to all of us but especially confusing to Charlotte and me at our young ages. It was very hard to understand and no one realized we needed help through this period of our grief. Mom and Dad were too grief stricken, so we had to find our own way with friends to help us."
Charlotte relates, "Mom never got over June's death. I don't believe Pop ever did either. I guess even after twelve children, the baby of the family has a special place in people's hearts. June was special! She was so bright and loving that I'm sure she was a favorite with all of the family. "I have to admit there had been times in her eight short years that I felt envious but I missed my little playmate. Yet today, I realize many years later how much richer a life I would have had if this child with the beautiful spirit would have lived."
b. 02 June 1924; Cuba, IL
d. 25 Aug. 1932; Wyoming, IL
br. Sinnett Chapel Cemetery; Cuba, IL
NELLIE JUNE HELLE, the thirteenth and last child of George A. and Ida (Kaler) Helle, brought them great joy and great sorrow. Two and one-half years younger than her sister, Charlotte, she was alert, witty and had a zest for life. Because Charlotte was a day-dreamer. their mother would tell June, 'Take care of Charlotte so she doesn't get run over." (This admonishment came after Charlotte had walked across the tracks in front of a moving train.)
June and Charlotte contracted diphtheria in August of 1932 and both were ill at the same time. Charlotte recovered, but June did not and died from the ravages of the disease.
Brother, Gail, wrote of this time in their lives: 'Charlotte and June were the two little sisters, very devoted to their brothers, even me. As little kids, I probably was closer to them than anybody. We had a wonderful childhood together. This rudely ended with the passing of our little sister, June. This was a terrible shock to all of us but especially confusing to Charlotte and me at our young ages. It was very hard to understand and no one realized we needed help through this period of our grief. Mom and Dad were too grief stricken, so we had to find our own way with friends to help us."
Charlotte relates, "Mom never got over June's death. I don't believe Pop ever did either. I guess even after twelve children, the baby of the family has a special place in people's hearts. June was special! She was so bright and loving that I'm sure she was a favorite with all of the family. "I have to admit there had been times in her eight short years that I felt envious but I missed my little playmate. Yet today, I realize many years later how much richer a life I would have had if this child with the beautiful spirit would have lived."
Charlotte on chair, Ethel holding June
June and Charlotte Helle with Nancy Kaler
Charlotte Helle: "June was just he opposite of me. She and Ethel looked more like our Pop I guess. June was blonde, with hazel eyes. Ethel was fair with blue eyes. When I was ten and June was eight she already weighed about two pounds more than me. June was witty, where I had torely on my temper or stubbornness. June was sweet, loveable and cuddly, 2and a half years younger than I, she made friends easier. I used to envy her. Grandma had a fatty tumor on the nape of her neck. Cold winter nights, June and I, who slept with Grandma, used to take turns warming it with our hands. I was a daydreamer. After we left the farm and moved to town, we walked to school. I walked along daydreaming and walked across just ahead of a train coming. June, always alert, waited for the train. After that Mom used to tell June, "Take care of Charlotte, so she doesn't get run over". Needless to say, that went over big. June was in second grade and I was in fifth.
On Valentines Day, I got a normal amount of valentines, but by this time two little boys were in love with June. One named Tommy, one named Melvin. After school, in our doorway we found two valentines to June from Melvin, then an hour later 2 from Tommy. The next day, 3 from Melvin and a little later 3 from Tommy. This went on for about three days. Finally, Melvin brought a whole shoebox filled with valentines and deposited at our door, "To June from Melvin." That ended the war. I don't know as either one of the boys ever declared their love verbally. One sad fall, when June was eight and I was ten, we came down with sore throats and high temperatures. Mom called the nice doctor in our small town of Wyoming, Illinois. The doctor came every day. We lay sharing a bed, with our devoted mother taking care of us. Several times she asked the doctor, "Are you sure it isn't diphtheria?" The doctor always reassured her. Finally, one day, we felt better. Maybe, I'm the one who felt better, but we'd been down so long. We got up and played with our dolls and little dishes. June finally said, "I'm tired, I'm going back to bed." I was frustrated, but she went to bed anyway. She never ever got up again. The next day she went to the hospital and as near as I can remember, as I was only ten years old, she only lived one day. Those two little boys who had sent her the valentines would come as far as the yard, but they didn't come to see their little friend laid out in the parlor in her pink chiffon dress. Her illness had been diphtheria.
Walter Helle: "In the spring of 1924, when I was nearly twelve years old, I overheard a conversation between my mother and my older brother, Lloyd. From what I heard, I knew we were going to have another baby. On June 4, 1924, little June was born. She was blond and so sweet that we all learned to love her as we did little Tootsie. She was the last baby born into the Helle family, thirteen in all. We were a close knit, happy family and my mother was so proud of her two little girls. As they grew up she would play and sing with them. To this day, when I hear "Jingle Bells", a lump rises in my throat and I can see and hear Mother and those sweet little girls singing so happily."
Lee Helle: "Aunt June died before I was born. As a small boy the only memory of her that I have is when her name would be mentioned, a sadness would sweep across the faces of everyone there. I didn't understand death but the sadness I could feel."
On Valentines Day, I got a normal amount of valentines, but by this time two little boys were in love with June. One named Tommy, one named Melvin. After school, in our doorway we found two valentines to June from Melvin, then an hour later 2 from Tommy. The next day, 3 from Melvin and a little later 3 from Tommy. This went on for about three days. Finally, Melvin brought a whole shoebox filled with valentines and deposited at our door, "To June from Melvin." That ended the war. I don't know as either one of the boys ever declared their love verbally. One sad fall, when June was eight and I was ten, we came down with sore throats and high temperatures. Mom called the nice doctor in our small town of Wyoming, Illinois. The doctor came every day. We lay sharing a bed, with our devoted mother taking care of us. Several times she asked the doctor, "Are you sure it isn't diphtheria?" The doctor always reassured her. Finally, one day, we felt better. Maybe, I'm the one who felt better, but we'd been down so long. We got up and played with our dolls and little dishes. June finally said, "I'm tired, I'm going back to bed." I was frustrated, but she went to bed anyway. She never ever got up again. The next day she went to the hospital and as near as I can remember, as I was only ten years old, she only lived one day. Those two little boys who had sent her the valentines would come as far as the yard, but they didn't come to see their little friend laid out in the parlor in her pink chiffon dress. Her illness had been diphtheria.
Walter Helle: "In the spring of 1924, when I was nearly twelve years old, I overheard a conversation between my mother and my older brother, Lloyd. From what I heard, I knew we were going to have another baby. On June 4, 1924, little June was born. She was blond and so sweet that we all learned to love her as we did little Tootsie. She was the last baby born into the Helle family, thirteen in all. We were a close knit, happy family and my mother was so proud of her two little girls. As they grew up she would play and sing with them. To this day, when I hear "Jingle Bells", a lump rises in my throat and I can see and hear Mother and those sweet little girls singing so happily."
Lee Helle: "Aunt June died before I was born. As a small boy the only memory of her that I have is when her name would be mentioned, a sadness would sweep across the faces of everyone there. I didn't understand death but the sadness I could feel."