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

The Reason Why I Sing

This morning at 3:04 a.m. I was woken up to the song Why We Sing by Kirk Franklin.

Someone asked the question
Why do we sing?
When we lift our hands to Jesus
What do we really mean?

Someone may be wondering
When we sing our song
At times we maybe crying.
And nothings even wrong

I sing because I'm happy
I sing because I'm free
His eye is on the sparrow
That's the reason why I sing

Glory
Hallelujah
You're the reason why I sing

So, you ask, why do I sing? I sing because God has brought me a mighty long way. November 28, 2016, will be 25 years since I was involved in a horrific accident.

This is how it all happened.

 On November 28, 1991 in St. Louis, Missouri my mom and I were at my grandparent’s house visiting. Their house is on Lee Avenue in the city. On the television, there were warnings of an ice storm. So, my mother and I got in the car and started to make our trek home, in North County, before the impending storm came. SO WE THOUGT!!!! As we were driving on the highway, the car hit some black ice and collided with the wall. By now the ice was really coming down. So instead of staying in the car, we got out to go to the other side of the highway. We did not want any other cars to hit the black ice and hit our car causing us more damage because our car was facing the opposite direction. My mom was in front and I was holding her hand, slightly behind her. I almost cleared our car when another car hit our car, hitting me. I screamed Mommy and then it was lights out.

I needed to be air lifted to the nearest hospital, which was DePaul, but weather conditions were so bad we had to travel by ambulance on the icy roads. DePaul didn’t have a pediatric neurosurgeon, so I had to be transported to Cardinal Glennon.  All I remember was the hospital experience after that. All of the nurses and doctors were very friendly to me and my family. When word got out that I was in an accident and it did not look good, family, friends, and other churches prayed fervently for me and my family. I was in a comma for a month. Christmas that year was horrible for my family and friends.  On New Year’s Eve, my mom and dad got the call from the hospital that I had woken up out of the comma. I did not know what was going on, but I heard a nurse say “ She is going to die”. I became fearful and started to cry. However, in a childlike way I knew to pray. Every night, as I lay in my hospital bed I would pray. I suffered multiple skull fractures and had to undergo multiple surgeries.

My mother taught school in the daytime, but would come to see me after work. While my mom was at work, my paternal grandfather would come every day to sit with me in my hospital room. I remember him sitting in a rocking chair reading his newspaper. He would talk to the nurses and doctors as they would come in to check on me. He fondly called one of my female doctors “Doctor Shug” because she was so sweet to my family. The doctors eventually moved me up to the rehab floor because I was my prognosis was getting better and better. Through much physical, occupational, and speech therapy, I became stronger.  I had to learn to walk, eat, speak, and write all over again. When my elementary school found out I was in the hospital, the principal, Mr. French and my second grade teacher, Mrs. English went the extra mile for me and my family. Mr. French told all the teachers about my accident and they supported me and my family during this ordeal. Mrs. English and her family would come up to visit me. She would read to me and do grade level activities with me. The entire elementary school sent me cards to show how much they loved and missed me. The doctors thought I was going to be a vegetable and be in the Special School District. But my God said no. To the amazement of the nurses and doctors, God performed a miracle on my behalf. On March 19, 1992, I was released from the hospital and came home. I was able to return to  Armstrong Elementary school and continue with my second grade class. All of my classmates were very happy that I was back. With much occupation and physical therapy during school and after school, I was getting better and better. I never failed a grade and continued in school, never missing a beat. I graduated and went on to college. Today, I am 33 years old and doing great.

So, you see this is the reason why I sing, praise God, and lift up my hands in worship at church on Sundays and all during the week.  God did a miracle in my life and I am forever grateful to him. There were a lot of tears and prayers for me that God saw and heard. He came to my rescue and now I can tell my story. I thank God for his sovereignty that surrounded me and my family during this frightening time in our lives. God is a magnificent God!!!!!!