"That's My Story And I'm Sticking To It"

My maternal great aunt, Marilyn Cheatham Darby, always would end her stories by saying “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!”

Marilyn Rochelle Cheatham was born to her loving parents, Wilton and Princess Cheatham, on August 4, 1933. She was the baby girl of her five siblings- Ellistine, Wilton, Marceline, Frank, and James. Marilyn was always a curious and out spoken child. She did not like anybody bullying her or her family. For example, Marilyn’s Cousin Irene came to live with them in St. Louis for a while and attended the same elementary school as the Cheatham kids. Aunt Irene remembers that her father, Jodie Cheatham, had given her a ring and had told her not to take it to school. If she lost it, she was going to get a whipping when she got home! Well, she did wear it to school, and don’t you know one of the girls saw it and took it, bully that she was. Well, Aunt Irene ran to get her big cousin Marilyn because she knew that if she went home without it, she would be in a lot of trouble and if anyone could get the ring back Marilyn could. Marilyn found the girl after school and told her she better give the ring back and beat her down. Irene got the ring back and was not in trouble anymore.  Aunt Irene said that Marilyn could beat the shit out of a rock!!!  

Another story that Auntie told was that at Dunbar Elementary School in the early 50s, her teacher would stand at the door and clap her hands. All students would have to be in their seats before she stopped clapping. Well, Auntie Marilyn did not make it to her seat in time and the teacher slapped her across the face. Well, Auntie says she was shocked and taken aback. When she got home from school her mother asked her what was that red hand print on her face was and Auntie told her what had happened. Now I understand that my great grandmother, Princess, was a sweet, kind, humble lady, but she told her daughter “NOT TO LET ANYBODY EVER SLAP HER”!!  Well the next day, bless Jesus (Auntie’s words),  she couldn’t wait to get to school. When the bell rang and the teacher was stationed at the door clapping her hands, Auntie got in the back of the line, letting everyone in front of her. She walked slowly, determined and did a little jig. Just as she got to the door the teacher stopped clapping again. IT WAS ON NOW BABY!! Everybody in the class was frozen in anticipation of what was going to happen next. Well my Auntie did not disappoint. The teacher raised her hand to slap her again, and to her utter surprise, Auntie grabbed her hand and with her other hand slapped her across her face as hard as she could, grabbed her in the chest, and tore her blouse off of her, exposing her to the class. The story goes that they had to get the principle to get Auntie up off of the teacher. Needless to say that was the last day that teacher ever clapped again. These are just a few examples of many about how Marilyn defended herself and stood up for those being treated wrong.  She was definitely a no non-sense, no foolishness, and no crazy kind of person. She could “read” a person too. You were not going to fool her nor get anything by her! If you were any of the before mentioned, you were sure to be on her list and subject to be “cussed out”. I know that these early signs of Auntie defending the weak and not taking anything off of anyone, led her to become a Federal Investigator later in life. When talking to my mom and her cousins, they all told me that their one ambition in life was to grow up and cuss like auntie.

In addition to Marilyn being tough, Auntie loved family and loved telling stories. She was a fabulous storyteller and could mesmerize you with her words. My mother remembers Auntie telling her the story of her mother, Princess, sending her to her first day at Sumner High School, in St. Louis, attired in a dress with a big sash in the back and high top shoes. LOL!!!! That was my Aunt, she could tell the best stories with a lot of embellishments. True or not, her stories were very comical and memorable. Even though she could get you told, she was all CLASS. Dressing and carrying herself in a lady like manner.

It was her stories that got me started on this genealogical journey to find my family and help others find their families. Just listening to Auntie tell her stories of the family, the people she remembered, and their lives was enough for me to want to know more. As I began to research family members on Ancestry and Familysearch, I would call her to share what I had found. She would be so excited and tell me to keep searching. About five years before Auntie passed, I made her up a Family History binder and sent it to her. She absolutely cherished it, reading each page carefully and calling me to tell me more funny stories to add to the information. In 2013, she died, but her legacy of storytelling and her love for family will live on through those she touched with her life.

THAT’S HER STORY AND SHE ALWAYS STUCK TO IT!!!!!

Law and Order of a Matriarch

Have you ever been in a courtroom with a judge that delivers his/ her verdict with a resounding bang on the desk with a gavel? That’s how I think of my great aunt, Marilyn Cheatham-Darby. Not only was she the matriarch of my family, but she was also a counselor, advisor, comedian, and Get-The-Job done person. She definitely took care of business. As a child, every summer was spent in California with Auntie and her family. We would have so much fun laughing, going places, and just enjoying family. Auntie Marilyn was like the family switchboard lady at the telephone company. She had every family member’s number and kept in contact with them. She also introduced us to relatives that we had not known.

She was definitely the glue that held our family together.

The Conundrum of Edwin Johnson

According to Winston dictionary, a conundrum is a riddle or puzzle.

My paternal family has always had questions about our ancestor Edwin Johnson. Now, Edwin is the elusive father of my grandfather, Charles Johnson. You see grandpa didn’t have fond memories of his father because Edwin fled from Kinloch, Missouri when my grandpa was just ten years old in 1925 or around that time. Victoria, Edwin’s wife, was left to raise five children by herself.

Edwin Johnson was born between 1877 and 1879, according to census records. He married Victoria Leonard in Ashley County, Arkansas on December 23, 1914. In 1915 their first son Charles was born and in 1918 their first daughter Eddie Mae was born.

In 1918 in Arkansas the Elaine Race Riots were going on. This was a very violent event with hundreds of blacks being killed. It could During this time, Edwin and his pregnant wife move the family to El Centro, California. It could be a possibility that Edwin and his family fled from Arkansas because of these race riots It was in El Centro, CA that Victoria gave birth to Lloyd in 1920.

The Johnson family did not stay long in California because by 1921 they were living in Tulsa, Oklahoma. According to the city directory , Edwin and his family lived at 109 North Maybell Avenue. Victoria was a stenographer and Edwin was a barber.  My grandfather, Charles, remembers there being an earthquake that split the sidewalk in Tulsa. In 1921, Victoria gave birth to another son, Jules. Unfortunately, in 1921 in Tulsa there were race riots, so maybe Edwin and Victoria moved their family back to California for safety. In 1922 in Blythe, CA, their fourth son, Abraham was born.

 A year after the move to California, Edwin and Victoria moved the family to Kinloch, Missouri. In Kinloch, Victoria had another daughter named Sallie in 1924.  A year later, Victoria and Edwin divorced. After the divorce, Edwin left his family in Kinloch, MO and went to an unknown location. Here is where the mystery of Edwin gets interesting.

There are three stories circulating in the family as to why Edwin fled Kinloch, MO:

#1- Edwin got into a bar fight and thought he killed a white man. So he ran.

#2- Edwin and two other guys from Kinloch made a deal that they were going to leave their families and start a business in another state. Well, the other two guys backed out of the deal at the last minute, leaving Edwin. I guess he was pretty determined to leave because HE DID.

#3- Edwin got into an argument with another man over a woman. He got his pistol and shot the man in anger. Then he ran.

All three stories bring up the question: Where did he run to?

Some family members think he might have gone back home to Arkansas and others think San Francisco or Imperial, California.

EDWIN JOHNSON IS JUST A GENEALOGICAL CONUNDRUM AND  BRICKWALL!!!!! WHAT A RIDDLE!!!

Struggling to Win

SAY IT LOUD….

When you think of fighting to survive, you may think of struggling, persevering or striving for a better life. This is why we celebrate Black History Month. In remembrance of all the African Americans who have fought throughout their lifetimes to overcome the obstacles placed in their way. Not just overcoming, but breaking down racial walls, injustices, and inequality. Being the victor and not the victim. Living a life well deserved and thriving no matter what the circumstances were. Yes, this is our history and we proudly honor those that have gone before us and are still living.

I’M BLACK AND I’M PROUD!!!!!

From Crinolines to Pearls

Allie Tuck was my second great grandmother and was born in Big Rock, Tennessee in 1873 to William and Mariah Hester Tuck. Allie had four brothers ( William, Charles, Mackey, Hillery) and three sisters ( Mary, Bettie, Daily).

 In this photograph, Allie is standing in the middle, her sister Daily is on the left, and her brother Mackey is on the right. She and her sister wore crinolines or hoop skirts under their skirts to make them appear  fuller.  

When Allie Tuck was 18 years old, she married Woodson Ellis on November 10, 1891 in Stewart County, Tennessee. Together, my second great grandparents, had six children ( Lottie, Vassie, Carl, Hilary, Hettie Mae, Princess Irene,  Wilton). Unfortunately, Allie died of cancer in 1908 in Tennessee. Although, she did not live to see her offspring grow into adults, Allie left them with a lasting legacy of love, family, and helping others through missions.

Reflecting on the characteristics and attributes of Allie’s daughters and granddaughters, you can get a better picture of who she was. My great grandmother, Princess and her daughter, Ellistine were wonderful mothers to their children, gave of themselves to others, loved their family, and were both on the missionary society at church. Filled with love, compassion for others, and hearts of gold, my grandmother and great grandmother, reflected the heart of their grandmother and mother.

Furthermore, pearls are a timeless piece of jewelry worn by not only my female ancestors, but many others. Pearls are the embodiment of years of suffering and hardship. My ancestor’s lives and thousands of others who came to this country were wrought with hardships, disappointments, failures, and sadness but, as the pearl, they endured, developing into precious jewels of great value. Whenever I wear pearls, I am reminded of the legacy that the women who came before me left. I wear my pearls as a badge of honor and respect in remembrance of the strength, courage, kindness, and sacrificial love my ancestors represent. 

Memories of Christmas Past

Christmas was always celebrated as a time for family, food, and fun in Wilton and Princess Cheatham’s household. During the years of the Great Depression (1929-1939), even though times were hard, Wilton and Princess made what they did have work for their family.

My maternal grandmother, Ellistine, was the eldest of her six siblings. She remembers that on Christmas morning, she would wake up and have a peppermint stick and either an apple or an orange laying at the foot of her bed. Under the Christmas tree were homemade gifts lovingly sewn by her mother. On Christmas Eve, while her children were sleeping, Princess would decorate the Christmas tree. What a wonderful surprise for her children to wake up to see a beautifully decorated tree with homemade gifts underneath. My grandmother said that she and her siblings would suck on their peppermint sticks all day long!

Even though the Cheatham family did not have much, the cherished time spent together was more important than all the expensive gifts in the world.

It seems like Christmas back then meant more because they had less and all they had was their family. Versus Christmas today, where all we want are gifts and lots of them. Let’s get back to the basics and make Christmas not be about the gifts we get, but the gift of family, love, cherished memories, and serving others.

Thanksgiving LOL

One of my all time favorite stories told at Thanksgiving is the one told by my paternal grandfather, Charles Johnson. For posterity sake, my mother recorded my grandpa telling his famous story in 1992.

In WWII, November 1945, my grandfather and his fellow African American servicemen were sailing near Spain on a ship in the Atlantic Ocean. Grandpa said that many men volunteered for duty in the galley (kitchen) which he was one of. The men were asked to take out turkeys from the icebox (freezer) and put them out on tables in the cutting room, so that they could thaw out for Thanksgiving dinner. The next morning, the men went down to the galley, opened up the door, and were met with an awful odor. Everybody cleared the room to get away from the smell. Grandpa said that none of them had gas masks!! However, grandpa, being curious, wet his handkerchief to put over his nostrils and bravely went into the cutting room to investigate the cause of the nauseating odor. He looked at the tag on the turkey’s leg and was shocked to see that the date was 1926!!!! Oh my, the turkeys had been in the freezer for 19 years or more!!! To get rid of all the turkeys, the crew threw them overboard into the ocean. Grandpa said that he cleaned up and went back to see if the turkeys were gone, but all he could see were boxes of frozen turkeys floating down the Atlantic Ocean. No fish were seen. The fish didn’t even want those “stinking turkeys”!!!

It is a LOL ( Laugh out Loud) and ROTF (Rolling on the floor) moment each year when Grandpa’s stinking turkey story is told. Even though he has been gone for thirteen years, his gift of storytelling and his voice can still be remembered and heard.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING GRANDPA