Amanuensis Monday - My Grandmother's Poem

When we were growing up, my brother, Arthur, and I used to each teasingly "claim" one of our grandmothers as our own.  Our paternal grandmother, Anna Green Yarborough, was, "MY grandma", and our mother's mother was "his".  I'm not sure how or why this started, but I did have an extremely close relationship with my Grandma Yarborough, and my Grandma Thomas was always a bit more of a mystery woman to me, even though she lived closer to us, in Norfolk.  I've always been aware of the many traits I inherited from my father's mother, but, as time goes on, I'm finding that there's quite a bit of my Grandma Thomas in me, too! 

I've been writing poetry since I was in junior high school, but for the most part, I've kept my writings private. (The exception has been the many motivational pieces I've written for students to perform.) Several years ago, while exploring some of the items left in the dresser drawer in the room my grandmother once occupied at my mom's house, I came across this poem.  I was delighted, yet baffled.  Did my grandmother really write this?  I never, ever would have even imagined her penning a poem, especially not something as fabulously insightful as this one.  I just didn't know this side of my grandmother at all!

I remember getting on the computer and searching for the lines of the poem, to see if perhaps someone else had authored it.  Nothing came up. I even did it again, before starting this post.  Still, nothing.  I recently learned that this poem was read at my grandmother's funeral in 1986, but I have no memory of hearing it, then.  The person who mentioned it to me referred to it as, "that beautiful poem that was written by your grandmother".  I think that with that, along with the inscription and dedication which follow the poem, it's time for me to accept what I found so hard to believe.  My "brother's grandmother" (lol) was a poet!

It is with enormous pride that I present the poem, "You Say I'm Growing Old?", written by Mary Davis Hill Thomas, January 24, 1960, and dedicated to her children, Howell, (Mary)Anne, and Jane.

You Say I'm Growing Old?

You tell me I'm glowing? I tell you that's not so

The house" I live in may be worn out, 

That of course I know.

It's been in use a long, long while, it's weathered many a gale

I'm really not surprised you think it's getting somewhat frail.

The color on the roof is changing, the windows getting dim,

The walls are a bit transparent and looking rather thin.

The foundation not so steady as once it used to be,

My "house" is getting shaky, but my "house" isn't me.

My few short years can't make me old, I feel I'm in my youth.

Eternity lies just ahead, a life of joy and truth.

I'm going to live forever there, as life will go on - it's grand.

You tell me I'm getting old? You just don't understand.

The dweller in my little "house" is young and bright and gay,

Just starting on a life to last throughout eternal day.

You only see the outside, which is all that most folks see.

You tell me I'm getting old? You mixed my "house" with me.

As Mary Thomas 
                                               feel(s) about herself this January 24, 1960
                                                                                        Mary H. Thomas

On the back of the original was this inscription:

To my children Howell, Anne, and Jane

Sunday afternoon, January 24th

reading poetry at Y.W.C.A. 927 Park Ave. Norfolk

compared my present life and my future home

ove on the other side of this sheet of paper

                                             Mary Thomas

I'm so proud of my grandmother for writing this phenomenal poem, and just for being the strong, beautiful woman that she was.  I know so much more about her, and the life she lived, because of my research, and I am grateful to have been chosen to share her story, and that of my other ancestors, with the world.

To learn more about my grandmother, Mary Davis Walker Hill Thomas, click here (for a post about both of my grandmothers) and here, here, and here for a 3-part series I wrote about the losses my Grandma Thomas experienced in her life.

Thanks for reading!

Renate

The poem, "You Say I'm Growing Old" was written in 1960 by Mary Thomas, and is the express property of her descendants.  It is not to be used or copied without crediting the author.

Permalink to this post: http://justthinking130.blogspot.com/2014/03/amanuensis-monday-my-grandmothers-poem.html

Sentimental Sunday - Remembering My Beloved Ancestors

Today is just one of those days.  As a matter of fact, it's been one of those weeks.  Well, to be truthful, it's just been one of those MONTHS!  Many of you know the kind I mean - those time periods where you just can't seem to stop thinking about those loved ones who've gone on to join the Ancestors. Everywhere you look, there are reminders.  Your mind seems filled with memories - some that make you smile (or even burst out into spontaneous laughter), and some that brings tears to your eyes or cause you to start weeping at even the most inopportune times. Yep, that's what the month of April has been for me.

To honor those whose spirits have instigated the roller coaster of emotions I've been experiencing, recently, I dedicate this post to their memory.  So here they are, the folks I haven't been able to get off of my mind:

My brother, Arthur YARBOROUGH, Jr. (August 23, 1960 - April 6, 1984)

Arthur and me - Probably Easter 1968

My daddy, Arthur P. Yarborough, Sr. (June 24, 1924 - October 4, 1997)

Me with my Daddy - Probably on his (and my daughter, Natasha's) birthday 1983



My grandmother, Anna GREEN Yarborough (January 18, 1891 - February 17, 1977)

My grandma and me - Probably 1968 or 1969



My cousin, "Uncle" George Royster Greene, Sr. (October 5, 1930 - March 17, 2013)

My "Uncle George" in his judge's robe, probably in the 1980's. 
He and my father were first cousins, but considered each other brothers. He was very special to me.
Stay tuned for a post about him, soon.



My grandmother, Mary DAVIS Thomas (December 26, 1897 - June 12, 1986)

My Grandma Thomas (Looks like she'd just come from church!)

These are the folks who have been on my mind, along with a few more, who weren't family members.  I've experienced a lot of loss in my life, and most of it was at a young age.  Not only have I been thinking of these loved ones, but I've also been reflecting (even more heavily than usual) on those of my Ancestors whom I never knew, and in many cases, never even knew about until I began my research.  I hope to get back to writing, so that I can share my thoughts (and revelations), and bring more information about those who've gone on to the LIGHT. :)

Thanks for reading.

A very sentimental,

Renate


The permanent link to this post is: http://justthinking130.blogspot.com/2013/04/sentimental-sunday-remembering-my.html

Tombstone Tuesday - Perseverance PAYS!

Subtitle: Success in the Cemetery!

I'm posting today to share my excitement about a victory (of sorts) that I've had.  I thought that this was going to be more of a follow-up post, however, upon searching my blog, I've discovered that I never did write about the search for my maternal grandmother's grave marker.

My mother's mother, Mary Thomas, died in 1986.  She was buried in Calvary Cemetery, an historical burial ground in Norfolk, Virginia.  Because I spent the first 14 years of my genealogical journey completely focused on researching my paternal ancestors, it wasn't until just a few years ago, when I turned my attention to my mother's folks, that I decided to head over to Norfolk to visit my grandmother's grave.  Once I did, I was disappointed to discover that the spot where she rested was covered only by green grass, and wasn't marked in any way.

I was 24 years old when my grandmother died, and of course, I attended her funeral.  However, not being a cemetery or genealogy buff at the time, I can't say that I paid any attention to how the grave was marked.  But, what I did know (or at least what I thought) was that my mother and her two siblings would certainly have put some kind of a marker on their mother's grave.  I inquired at the cemetery office, but long story, short, they had no records related to the markers or headstones.  Their records only pertained to the actual burials.

At the advice of the person in the cemetery office, I contacted Hale Funeral Home, to see if they had any records pertaining to my grandmother's burial.  (I called right from the grounds of the cemetery, hoping to just drive right over!)  Unfortunately (and quite sadly), the person I spoke with told me a story of transferred management after family deaths, and records which had actually been THROWN AWAY.  If I recall correctly, all of the pre-1997 records of this funeral home, which has been serving African-Americans in the Tidewater area for 100 years, were destroyed during changes in management.  Needless to say, I was disappointed, and appalled.  Not only were the records of my own ancestors gone - I actually have several who were serviced by this funeral home - but so were those of hundreds of others. 

After this troubling revelation, it seemed that there would be no way for me to prove that there'd once been a marker at my grandmother's gravesite.  My mother told me that my uncle had handled the burial transactions, and when I asked him about it, he said he no longer had any of the paperwork, but reiterated that he "thought" there was "some kind of stone, or something" at the grave.  With nothing else to go on, I just kind of put this to the side, but vowed to one day get to the bottom of it. (No pun intended.) :)

Anyway, life and genealogy went on, and then one day, quite by accident, I ran across this picture, while going through some things at my mother's house:



My nephew, Robert, and my daughter, Natasha, beside the freshly-covered grave of their great-grandmother,
Mary Thomas.

So, there ya go!  You'd better believe I was doing the genealogy happy-dance, for here was all the proof I needed (and more)!  As soon as I saw this picture, I knew for sure that this was my grandmother's burial location, because it was the exact spot on which I'd stood with the cemetery caretaker, but all that was there was grass.  But here were my nephew, age 6, and my daughter, age 4 obviously not too long after my grandmother had been buried.

With this picture in hand, as well as the actual receipt for the 6-vault burial plot that my great-grandmother had purchased in 1935,  I took the 35-minute drive over to Norfolk last Monday, ready for battle.  I called ahead to let them know I was coming, and "Bret", the current manager of the cemetery, after hearing my plight, said he'd pull his records and be ready for me.  Once there, he and another employee in the office were very kind and accommodating towards me, so no fight was necessary. :)  Bret verified the location of my family plot (yes, it's a family plot, but I'll write about that in another post), and printed out a new map for me using their fancy-smancy new program.  Then, off we went, armed with my proof-providing picture to do a "test-dig". 

I couldn't believe how excited I was about this, but I was almost beside myself.  When we got to the plot, I used the picture to help Bret locate the exact spot in which to drive his shovel, and after just a couple of hits in that spot, we heard it - the unmistakable clang of metal against stone.

Bret marks the spot for the dig.

           

And so we began...

As Bret chiseled and dug, I continued to "coach" him, directionally.  After just a few minutes, I had all of the confirmation I needed.

Do you see what I see?




At this point, tears began to well up in my eyes, as I realized that we had, indeed, found my grandmother.  Of course she was there all along, but there was just something about the grave being unmarked that was very unsettling to me.  Now, I knew for sure that we were in the right spot, and presumably my grandma, along with her husband, her parents, and her uncle were all right there where they'd been laid to rest. 

Bret continued his work, commenting to me, "You were exactly right about it.", as he dug, more gently now, around the step.  In reverence to my ancestors, I remained silent, as he uncovered the unmistakable match to my photograph.

And there it is, the THOMAS surname, clear as day.

Just a few minutes after the step was completely revealed, as Bret was explaining to me that it would be raised and reset before the end of the week, a truck drove by with the very men who would be doing it. He summons them to stop, and they came over and heard the whole story.  Everyone involved (including Bret) seemed surprised and baffled that the marker had been allowed to sink like that, since the cemetery is well, and consistently cared for, but what happened, happened.  I'm just glad that they were so amicable about it, and willing to do the work (at no cost to my family, of course) to right the situation.  I didn't go back yet, but I'm guessing the work has been done.  I plan to go over this weekend to see.

There was so much more to this post, but, unfortunately, I hit a wrong button last night was I was creating it, and lost all but the very first part.  Time only permits me to redo this much for now, but thank you for reading.  Needless to say, my heart is glad. :)

Thanks for reading.

Renate



New Discoveries on the Maternal Side - HILLS, HOWELLS, and HAYES

Yesterday was a banner day in my research life for two reasons: One, I visited the Library of Virginia for the very first time, and two, while there I discovered the name and hometown of my maternal great grandmother!

The Library of Virginia is indeed a beautiful building. It is spacious, well-lit, and beautifully appointed. I'd gone there planning to tour the entire edifice, and take it all in, with plans only to view and get copies of three of my Norfolk, VA ancestors. After all, I was only in Richmond for an impromtu breakfast meet-up with my youngest daughter. This was just going to be a quick stop on a day filled with "to-do"s. Four hours after arriving, I was reluctantly leaving for the drive back home to attend an afternoon engagement. Not only did I have the death certificates (which provided lots of surprising information that I'll blog about later), but I'd also taken advantage of the Pro-Quest access to uncover more articles about my ancestors, the tiniest of which provided me with information about the family of my elusive grandfather, Daniel W. Hill, my mother's father (who abandoned their family when she was just four).

Daniel Webster Hill has, until now, just basically been a name on my family tree.  He is definitely one of my brick walls, and he is the one closest to me, generationally, as he was my mother's father.  Daniel and my grandmother, Mary Davis Walker, were married in Philadelphia in 1929, and they lived there for a short time after they wed.  However, by 1930, they are already back in Norfolk, VA, living in the home which Mary had moved out of to join Daniel in PA.  I've often wondered why they returned to Norfolk so soon, but perhaps now, I've found my answer.

As a result of my search of the Norfolk Journal and Guide on ProQuest for "Daniel Hill Norfolk", this little article popped up.

It reads: Mrs. Pinkie Howell of Gilmerton, VA, who was strickin with illness while visiting her daughter in Philadelphia, Pa., died Sunday, May 19.  The remains were brought to Gilmerton for funeral and internment.  She leaves to mourn her loss a son, Mr. Daniel Hill, of Norfolk, and one daughter, Mrs. Emma Hayes of Philadelphia.

..... and
        the
             brick wall
                    began to immediately
                                                tumble
                                                       down.....

In just these three little lines, I learned the following information that I never knew before:

• The name of my great-grandmother.  Pinkie Howell would have been my mother's grandmother.  This explains so much for me, as I've often wondered how and why she never knew her father's parents, or any of his relatives, despite the fact that he abandoned the family when she was four.  I've asked her and her brother many times if they are sure that no one ever asked after them, or visited them from their father's family.  They've always insisted that no one had, and they've both grown old not knowing a thing about their own father or his family - except for their father's name.  Now, at least I can let them know that it wasn't that their own grandmother didn't care enough to want to know them; she had passed before either of them were ever born. :(
• The origin of my mother's brother's first name, Howell.  My grandparents named their first-born child, Howell Webster Hill.  I've always felt that the "Howell" had to be for something or someone, since they gave him the same middle name as his father (Webster).  Now that I've discovered his mother's surname, I'm beginning to question whether or not Daniel's real last name might've been Howell, too.  Maybe he was running or hiding from something or someone, and maybe this is why he's remained a brick wall for so many years.  This is a stretch though, because there are some other Hills in the Norfolk area who my mom and her brother say that we are related to.  Maybe Pinkie was just married to a Howell who raised Daniel.  I'll have to research this further.
• The location of my grandfather's family.  According to the article, Pinkie Howell lived in Gilmerton, Va.  Well, there is no longer a township by that name, but when I looked it up, I discovered that Gilmerton was actually located in Chesapeake, Va (which is right next to Norfolk), and after a few moments reflection, realized that it must be in the section of Chesapeake which now hosts the Gilmerton Bridge, which I hear about every morning and evening during the traffic segment on the news.  This was confirmed today during a telephone conversation with my Uncle Howell, who lives in Chesapeake now.  This means that my grandfather, Daniel Hill, whom I've always known was born in Virginia, was most likely raised right in Chesapeake.
• The fact that my grandfather had a sister, Emma, her married name, Hayes, and her location.  This means that my mother and her brother had an aunt, who sadly, never knew them or vice-versa.  However, Emma will most likely be the key to my finding out more about my grandfather's family and circumstances, and she may even lead me discovering what happened to him.  I've already found the Emma Hayes that I'm pretty certain is her.If I'm right, she was married to McCabe Hayes, a gentleman who appears to have been 8 years younger than she, and who was a WWI Veteran.

From this 1920 Census document, I also learn that Emma's father was born in North Carolina, and her mother in Virginia.  Assuming that Emma and Daniel shared the same parents, these would be my great-great grandparents. :)

• In addition to the information above, several "mysteries" have been cleared up for me by this article.  I now understand why, despite an announcement in the Journal and Guide (which I shared in a previous post) that my grandparents (Daniel and Mary) were married and had moved to Philadelphia in 1926, they were back living at her home in Norfolk by the time the 1930 Census was taken. I also never understood just how it came to be that they got married in Philadelphia, rather than in Virginia.  Even though my mother and her brother have always said that their father had some kind of connection to Philadelphia, they never seemed to know what it was.  Now, we know that at least one close relative, Daniel's sister, Emma was there.  Perhaps, after the death of their mother, they came back this way to close her affairs.  I may never know the answer to that, but at least it all makes more sense now.

What was supposed to have been a quick visit to the Library of Virginia, has resulted in a smashing (no pun intended) insult to a long-held brick wall!  I now have my work cut out for me as I begin to explore this newly found branch of my family tree.  There are many questions to be answered, and lots of verifying to do, but I'm up for the task!  In just a few weeks, school will be out for the summer, and I'll be digging into my research around the clock.  Surely, this will keep me busy for hours on end!

Thanks for reading. :)
Renate

Fun in the Sun! Grandma Thomas - Back in the Day! - COG 95th Edition

I'd originally been saving this up for a Wordless Wednesday, but after being inspired by Carol's "Bathing Beauties From Virginia" post, over at Reflections From the Fence, I decided to submit this picture of my maternal grandmother for the COG 95th edition, The Annual Swimsuit Edition which is being hosted by Jasia over at Creative Gene.  Just click on the link above, and scroll down to the bottom of the page for submission information! 

This is my grandmother, Mary Davis Walker Hill Thomas on an unidentified beach, probably sometime in the 1920's (but I don't know for sure).  Yes, this is the same grandmother about whom I just finished the three-part series, "My Grandmother's Loss".  At the time this photo was taken, the area beaches were still segregated, so it's most likely that she was either at Sea View in Norfolk, or Ocean Breeze, in Virginia Beach.  Either way, she looks like she's happy, possibly pregnant, and feeling good about herself!

Every time I see this picture, I just stare and stare at it.  I never saw this carefree side of my grandmother.  It does my heart good to know that my she did have "better days" before I knew her.

Renate

Sentimental Sunday - My Grandmother's Loss (Part 3 -The Final Chapter)

For the past few weeks, I've been posting a series of stories about my maternal grandmother, Mary Thomas.  Basically, these posts were instigated by the mixture of feelings I experienced after receiving a set of newspaper articles about my maternal ancestors from a kind stranger in the genealogy blogosphere.  (This is such a wonderful community to be a part of.  Thanks so much again to genealogist, Hollis Gentry, who blessed me with these articles!)
This is the final post - the third of three. These posts have given my readers (and me) a kind of "right there" look at the losses my grandmother experienced throughout the course of her life.  In the first post, I wrote of the sudden, and tragic loss of her first husband, James Allen Walker.  A couple of weeks later, I posted about the abandonment of my own grandfather, Daniel Webster Hill.  Today, I'd like to share what I know about my grandmother's third marriage, to a man all three of her children refer to as "the love of Momma's life."

Finale - Charlie Thomas

It is with a conflicted heart that I write about my grandmother's third, and final marriage.  My mother and her siblings are still living, and they know much more about the details of Charlie Thomas' life (with and before my grandmother) than I do.  For reasons which I am just recently becoming aware of, much of his story has remained untold, and though my mother, aunt, and uncle know it, they are not ready to reveal it all to me just yet.

What I do know, and can write, is that at some point very soon after being abandoned by her second husband, my grandmother, and married Charlie Thomas, a man who was 16 years her senior.  My guess is that they must have already known each other from church, since one of the articles I received mentioned that Charlie's family belonged to Jerusalem; the same church which my grandmother was a member of, and where my uncle had won the baby contest several years before.  (See Part 2) I've heard that Charlie "swept Mary off her feet".  (I'm guessing that he and the whole church had probably witnessed her suffering after my grandfather left, and perhaps even before so.  He probably stepped right in!)  

 Charlie Thomas, with his daughter (my aunt), Jane.

I don't have the exact date of their marriage (yet), but in 1940, my grandmother gave birth to her third child, Jane Gwendolyn Thomas.  Charlie had won my grandmother's heart, and she was happier than she'd ever been.  My mother tells me that Charlie Thomas loved and cared for Howell and her as if they were his own, and that he was "the only father" she has ever known.  She says that he didn't treat them any differently than he did his own flesh and blood daughter, Jane.  My uncle agrees with all of my mother's comments.

The only other thing I know (that I can share) about Charlie Thomas is that he worked on the railroad. As I was growing up, I would occasionally ask about my grandfather, but I was only told that he "worked on the railroad."  I realize now, that since Charlie Thomas was the only father my mother ever knew, that the answer I was being given referred to him, and not to my actual grandfather, Daniel Hill.  However, knowing all that I know now, about the devastating death of my grandmother's first husband, Allen, I can only imagine how very stressful it must have been for her to say goodbye to Charlie each day as he left for work.  She had to have had incredible faith!

 Charlie, Mary, and the three children (along with Mary's mother, Manerva) were living "happily ever after" when, sometime early in 1950, Charlie began to suffer from some kind of heath problems.  According to this article, Charlie is "improving" in April, 1950.

But, in August, 1950, my grandmother's third husband, Charlie Thomas, suffered a heart attack and died right in their Norfolk home.

 For Mary Davis Walker Hill Thomas, the third time had indeed been "the charm".  However, at 52 years old, having lost 3 husbands, and being left to finish raising 3 children, she must have also decided that with "three strikes, you're out".  Mary lived out her remaining 34 years as a widow, harboring a lifetime of painful losses, but choosing to count her blessings and bask in the reflection of a decade of beautiful memories made with the love of her life, Charlie Thomas.

As you can see, Mary never forgot her dear, Charlie.  Here, she memorializes him nine and eleven years, respectively, after his death.  I had seen the 1959 article taped inside the cover of her bible, but had never seen the 1961 piece.  However, now that I have, I realize that she had them both in there, for there is a faded outline exactly the size and shape of the column on the same page as the other one.

This ends the trilogy, "My Grandmother's Loss".  Writing this out has been helpful to me, and has helped me to put into words a "story" that needs to be shared with my daughters, and the rest of Mary Thomas' grandchildren. To those who've followed along, I thank you.

Blessings,

Renate

Sentimental Sunday - My Grandmother's Loss (Part 2 of 3)

This is the second in a series of what will be three posts dedicated to the life and memory of my grandmother, Mary Davis Walker Hill Thomas. I began this series of posts after receiving copies of several articles from the Norfolk, VA Journal and Guide, which confirmed, and in some cases, revealed stories about my ancestors.  To read the initial post, which explains how I came into possession of these articles, please click here. Part 1 

In writing this series, I hope to make amends with my grandmother's spirit.  I was 24 years old when she left us for her reward, and up to that point in my life, I didn't have the knowledge, nor the maturity, to empathize with what her life must have been like, after experiencing the loss of three husbands, and then, ultimately, living out her last 36 years as a widow.  Being a person who always reaches out and tries to understand and connect with others, I feel just awful for not knowing her better, seeing her more clearly, and/or loving her more dearly.  In my grown-up, intellectual mind, I know that I really have no fault, especially since I was never told of her hardships; but the sentimental, emotionally-connected part of me is heavy-laden with a feeling of guilt, every time I think about how I distanced myself from this grandmother, in favor of my paternal one. Mary Thomas' outer-shell was deservedly hardened.  I imagine she must have lived each day that I knew her constantly protecting and shielding her heart from further pain.

Part 2: Daniel Hill

Sometime after the (literally) crushing death of my grandmother's first husband, James Allen Walker, in 1923, she met Daniel Webster Hill.  I have no idea how they met, or how their relationship developed, but the article below - another of the nine sent to me by my genealogical benefactor, shows where it went.

  It seems that Mary had found love again.  She married my grandfather, Daniel W. Hill on July 11, 1926.  According to this article, the couple moved to Philadelphia  (another fact I never knew), but by the 1930 Census, they are back in Norfolk, living in the family home with my great-grandparents, Walter and Minerva Davis.  (Note:  By all accounts, and from what the records show, my grandmother, Mary, was the homeowner.  She purchased the home after the death of her first husband.  I presume she must have used whatever insurance money she received to buy the home.)

I know nothing about my maternal grandparent's marriage except that it happened, and that they had two children together; my uncle, Howell Webster, born in 1931 and my mother, Maryanne, in 1934.  However, this third article from the Journal & Guide at least hints at the fact that my grandmother may have been living a happy life.  She was already active in the church she was a member of, and funeralized in 53 years later. Her son was winning baby contests, and she would, just two months after this, conceive my mother with her husband, Daniel.



At some point, the happy days ended for Daniel and Mary. For whatever the reason(s), my grandfather  abandoned his wife and children when my mother was just four years old.  The family never saw or heard from him again, and I, in my 14 years of research, have been unable to track him down to find out where he went, or what happened to him.  In a recent interview with my uncle who only vaguely remembers having a father, he recalled Daniel Hill as being a "mean man".  My mother doesn't remember her father at all, and neither of them have a clue what he even looked like. 
So, for my grandmother, this was blow #2.  Another marriage dissipated, but for a completely different reason.  This time, she was left with two children to raise.  She'd just lost her father (in 1936), but thankfully, had her mother there to help her.  Though she was saddened by this loss, she was not broken.  Help (and another chance at love) was on the way.  

To read the third and final segment of this series, click here.

Sentimental Sunday - My Grandmother's Loss (Part 1)

A few weeks ago, I was the recipient of a random act of genealogical kindness. A fellow researcher provided me with several articles from the Norfolk, Virginia "Journal and Guide", which featured, or pertained to some of my maternal ancestors. If you missed the post about this, and would like to read it, you can click here.

It has taken me some time to be ready to post about the article which affected me most, but now the time has come. If you follow this blog, you probably already know, or at least sense, that I was extremely close to my paternal grandmother, Anna Green Yarborough. However, my relationship with my maternal grandmother, Mary Davis Thomas, was more distant, even though she lived in closer proximity to me. I never spent much time thinking about this - it's just the way it was. I loved her, and I knew she loved me, but we just didn't have a very intimate personal connection. Grandma Thomas didn't say much (not around me, anyway), and unfortunately, though I saw her often, and she even lived with us in her later years, my memories of her as a quiet, and rather stoic person, make it difficult for me to truly recollect much about our interactions. This said, I'll now admit that when I received the email from Hollis Gentry, with the links to to the nine articles about my family, the very first one I read, which saddened and stunned me, caused me to reflect long and hard about life of the woman whom I'd only known as my, "Grandma Thomas", whose young adult life was impacted and shaped by a series unfortunate events through which she (as seems to be the case with all of the women in my ancestry) persevered, overcame, and maintained her Christian faith.

James Allen Walker - Part I

My grandmother, Mary Davis, with her first husband, Allen Walker.

I did not grow up knowing that my grandmother had been married before or after she married my grandfather, but when I found out as an adult that she had, and I asked what had happened to the first husband, I was only told that he'd "died on the railroad". So, when I opened this first article from Hollis, and really came to terms with what my grandmother, then a young bride must've gone through, I began experience a feeling of mourning, as if I'd been there with her when she got this terrible news, and experienced the first, of what would eventually be three spousal losses.

Yes, my maternal grandmother's first marriage ended when her husband, only 27 years old, was crushed between two train cars.  They'd not had any children, so I'm assuming that the life they'd been building together came to an abrupt and unexpected end when Allen left for work that morning. 

Thanks for reading.

Renate

To read Part 2 of this series, click here.

News on the Maternal Side - A Random Act of Genealogical Kindness

Recently, I've posted tributes to my two grandmothers, Anna Yarborough, and Mary Thomas.  In, "The Stuff I'm Made Of  and Grandma's Hands (for the CoAAG), I noted some of the hardships, sacrifices, and losses that each of my grandmothers had to overcome in order to successfully raise their families and maintain the homes which they were each left to manage alone.  I recognized, as I wrote, and then read over these posts, that the inner strength, tenacity, and perseverance which I possess are not traits that I developed on my own, but instead are deeply ingrained survival skills which have been passed on to me, not only from these two strong and resilient women, but, also from their mothers and grandmothers before them.

I return to this subject now, because yesterday, I was the recipient of a magnificent, and very surprising act of kindness on behalf of another researcher.  Hollis Gentry, a professional genealogist and DAR researcher, had been a part of a discussion which I was involved in on Afrigeneas a week or so ago, where the conversation was centered around the free preview that ProQuest was having for some of it's holdings - specifically a few African-American Newspapers.  As excited as I was, the one newspaper that I was interested in searching, the Norfolk, VA Journal and Guide, was not included in the free preview.  However, this researcher, who apparently had taken note of my disappointment, craftily visited my blog, pieced together what she could of my Norfolk ancestors' names and surprised me yesterday with an email which had attached to it NINE newspaper articles related to my maternal ancestors!  As it turned out, Hollis (whom I've never met and had never chatted with before) had made several attempts over a few days to get the articles to me, to no avail.  But her persistence paid off, and like magic - she gave me the most direct and personalized view that I've had, to date, of my mother's family.  I was, and still am, overwhelmed with gratitude towards Hollis for the the time and effort she has put towards finding and sharing these documents with me.  Not only that, but in subsequent emails, she has complimented me on my writing and my blog, and as a person with roots in Norfolk herself, has given me vital encouragement as to how to move forward in researching my maternal ancestors.  So, Hollis Gentry, I do hope you're reading this because I would like to publicly thank you for all you've done!

Stay tuned for upcoming posts in which I will share the articles that Hollis found for me.

Blessings, all!
Renate

CoAAG - Grandma's Hands: Grandmothers and Their Influence On The Family

The second installation of the Carnival of African-American Genealogy, "Grandma's Hands", is, in the words of its host, Sandra Taliaferro, "all about Grandmas".  Since I recently posted tributes to both of my grandmothers on a Sentimental Sunday, I'm going to simply repeat that post here, with just a few revisions (and a couple of new pictures)!

When I first began my research 13 years ago, I did so in an attempt to discover who I am.  I didn't know anything at all about my ancestors, beyond my maternal and paternal grandmothers, both of whom I personally knew.  I didn't grow up hearing family stories.  As a matter of fact, I really didn't have any sense of there being a "history" of my family.  My maternal grandmother, Mary (Davis) Thomas, lived just 30 minutes away from us, in Norfolk, VA, but it was my paternal grandmother in Louisburg, NC, Anna (Green) Yarborough, with whom I was closest.  Both of these women were constants in my life, and my grandma Thomas even ended up living with us during  my last couple of years of high school.  Therefore, despite the fact that I knew little to nothing of my grandmothers' past, or of the ancestors who preceded them, each of these ladies were threads the fabric of my life.

These women who raised my mother and father each had a significant impact on my development into the person I am today.  And not only that, but when I look in the mirror, I see them both in my reflection - the body of one, and the face of the other.  As I've learned more about their lives, and the hardships they each faced, I beam with pride as I recognize what it had to take for each of them to have managed and sustained their households in the loss of their husbands and in the face of repeated financial blows and/or significant family stressors that would have brought many others down.  But, both of my grandmothers stood tall in the face of adversity and beat the odds of their time.  As single parents, they raised successful children and both managed to keep their homes, which are still in our family today.  Through hard work and faith in God, Mary Thomas and Anna Yarborough lived well, and left a legacy of self-sufficiency, perserverance, and good will towards others.  Many times I've been complimented on the way I've raised my children and managed to rise above the many hard times I've been faced with in my adult life, and I'm often asked the question, "How do you do it?"  Well, now I know, and I have the perfect answer:  "It's the 'stuff' I'm made of!"

Anna Beatrice Green Yarborough

Anna Green Yarborough

Anna Beatrice Green was born on January 18, 1891 to parents John Wesley and Susan Dunstan Green.  She was the daughter of Nathaniel Hawkins and Anna B. Green (who she was named for). Anna was born in Rolesville (Wake County), NC. The family soon moved a few miles north to Louisburg, in Franklin County, but returned to Wake County when Anna was in her teens.  She had two sisters, Mabel and Blonnie, and three brothers, "Little Johnny", Joseph, and William; however only Mabel, William, and Anna lived to adulthood.  I know very little about Anna's early life, but in 1919, she married my grandfather, Calvin R. Yarborough, Jr., a widower with three children.  Anna moved to into the Franklin County home that was built by her new husband and his brother, and became step-mother to Vida, Priscilla, and Frederick Yarborough.  Over the next five years, she gave birth to her own three children, Susie, Calvin III, and Arthur (my father).  Unfortunately, Calvin began to suffer with the symptoms of tuberculosis, the cause of his first wife's death.  He fell ill, and passed away in 1929, leaving Anna to raise six children alone.  Anna, who was, at the time, involved in the creation of a new church in Louisburg (Mt. Hebron United Holy Church) relied on her faith and worked hard keep the taxes paid on the house that her husband had built, and to keep her children fed, clothed, and educated.  She worked as a laundress, as well as for private families as a housekeeper and nanny.  She also took in sewing, all the while maintaining a leadership role in the church she'd helped to create. She had a sweet disposition and was known throughout the little town of Louisburg as, "Miss Anna".  Anna walked several miles each day to and from her jobs on the "white side" of town.  She never did learn to drive.
As Anna grew older, her three biological children helped to support her so that she no longer had to work.  (The older three died of various causes in their 30's and 40's.)  Her greatest joy was in spending time with her four grandchildren, all the children of her youngest son, Arthur.  She was an excellent cook, and was known for the wonderful cakes she baked.  She took pride in her house and her yard, and gave special care and attention to her "award-winning" rose bushes in her front yard.  She loved to sit out on her in her porch in her brown, wooden rocking chair and wave at all of the passers by, many of whom would stop for a chat.  Some of my fondest memories are of warm summer evenings spent sitting on that porch with my grandma, and yes, I remember her hands - soft and wrinkled, I loved so much to trace the bluish-green veins that showed so clearly through her pale, almost-white skin.  I remember my grandma's hands.

In February, 1977, when I was 15 years old, my grandmother, Anna Yarborough, died of complications from colon cancer.  She is buried in the family plot on "the hill", which is the Louisburg City Cemetery (formerly, "Louisburg, for the Colored").

This is me with my Grandma Yarborough, probably around 1968 or 1969.

 In addition to the Sentimental Sunday post, mentioned above, you can read more about my Grandma Yarborough here and here. 

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Mary Davis Walker Hill Thomas

Mary Davis Thomas

My maternal grandmother, Mary Davis was born December 26, 1897 in Littleton (Halifax County), NC to parents Walter and Minerva Brown Davis.  According to the 1900 Census, Mary had a brother, one year older, named Samuel, and in 1910, the Census states that her mother had actually born three children, but only one (Mary) was living.  It is likely that Mary never knew or remembered her two siblings, because she never mentioned them to my mother, or to either of her other two children.  Mary's maternal ancestors were her grandparents, Asa and Luvenia Ross Brown, and great-grandparents, Everett and Minerva Ross.  Her paternal grandparents were Lewis and Dollie Davis.  Mary's large extended family all lived in the Littleton and Roanoke Rapids areas of North Carolina.

Around the turn of the 20th Century, several members of the Davis family migrated to Norfolk, Virginia, seemingly to work as longshoremen.  Walter, Minerva and Mary were part of this migration.  By 1910, they, as well as several of their family members are living in the Lambert's Point section of Norfolk.  In 1915, a young Mary was wed to her first love, Allen Walker, at the St. Marks AZUA Church in Norfolk.  Allen worked as a brakeman on the Virginia Railroad.  He and Mary were quite in love and lived happily, sharing a home with her parents until his untimely death, which occured sometime early in their marriage. 

Mary, though heartbroken, had to go on with her life.  At some point, she began doing hair in the porch room of the home that she'd shared with Allen, and she petitioned the owner for it's purchase.  In 1924, the house in Lambert's Point was hers, and it is still in our family today.  Sometime later, Mary met Daniel Webster Hill, and they were married in 1929 in Philadelphia, PA, and in 1930, Daniel, had joined Mary and her parents in the home.  Mary began her family with Daniel; first giving birth to a son, Howell, and then, in 1934, to a daughter (my mother), Mary Anne.  In 1936, Mary's father, Walter, died, but she still had her mother, Minerva there to help her with the house and the chldren. Unfortunately, sometime around 1938, Daniel Hill abandoned his family for reasons unknown, and was never heard from again.

Once again, Mary was left on her own, but this time, with two children. Mary was able to carry on with her very successful hair-care business. True love struck again, and she married Charlie Thomas, a railroad worker with whom she fell deeply in love.  Mary gave birth to her youngest daughter, Jane, in 1940.  Charlie was a loving and caring provider to his wife, daughter, and step-children.  It seemed that the family had finally found joy, but tragedy struck again, as Charlie was killed in a railroad accident, leaving Mary a widow, once again. 

Understandably, Mary lived the rest of her life without a spouse.  She continued to do hair, and also worked as a secretary and receptionist at the local YWCA.  Her mother, Minerva, who was her partner in raising the children, died in 1960, after they were all grown and gone.  Mary carried on, living alone in the home that she'd purchased in 1924.  At some point, she joined, and became a faithful and comitted member of Jerusalem Baptist Church in Norfolk. In the mid-70's, when Mary's health began to fail, she moved in with her daughter Mary's family in Hampton, VA, and later into a nursing home in Chesapeake, close to where her son lived.  Mary Davis Walker Hill Thomas, who'd lived to see three generations of her descendants, died in June, 1986, at the age of 89.  She is buried in Calvary Cemetery in Norfolk, VA in a plot with several family members, including her parents, and her beloved last husband, Charlie.

 I've wanted to use this picture on my blog for so long; I think now is the perfect time!  I find this photo so intriguing, because it show my grandmother in a light that I would have never imagined.  Here Mary Thomas poses on an unknown beach - date also unknown.

Both of my grandmothers, Anna Yarborough and Mary Thomas, had a "hand" in shaping me, as well as the rest of their descendants.  They've each left a legacy of strength, determination, hard work, and perseverance; character traits which have been passed down and have led generations of our family to stand tall in the face of loss and struggle, and to each become successful citizens in our own right.  May they rest in peace.

Renate

Sentimental Sunday - The Stuff I'm Made Of

I've been going through some ups and downs with my research of late, and regarding my maternal side, it's mostly been downs.  As is common for most researchers from time to time, I've found myself being rather, um.... quiet.  I think we all set out thinking (or at least, hoping) that we will discover the strengths of our ancestors, and perhaps uncover some of the positive contributions they made to society, but, that is not always going to be the case. 

When I first began my research 13 years ago, I did so in an attempt to discover who I am.  I didn't know anything at all about my ancestors, beyond my maternal and paternal grandmothers, both of whom I personally knew.  I didn't grow up hearing family stories.  As a matter of fact, I really didn't have any sense of there being a "history" of my family.  My maternal grandmother, Mary (Davis) Thomas, lived just 30 minutes away from us, in Norfolk, VA, but it was my paternal grandmother in Louisburg, NC, Anna (Green) Yarborough, with whom I was closest.  Both of these women were constants in my life, and my grandma Thomas even ended up living with us during  my last couple of years of high school.  Therefore, despite the fact that I knew little to nothing of my grandmothers' past, or of the ancestors who preceded them, they were both a part of the fabric of my life.

So today, on Sentimental Sunday I dedicate my post to my grandmothers, the women who raised my parents, and who each had a significant impact on my development into the person I am today.  And not only that, but when I look in the mirror, I see them both in my reflection - the body of one, and the face of the other.  As I've learned more about their lives, and the hardships they each faced, I beam with pride as I recognize what it had to take for each of them to have managed and sustained their households in the loss of their husbands and in the face of repeated financial blows and/or significant family stressors that would have brought many others down.  But, both of my grandmothers stood tall in the face of adversity and beat the odds of their time.  As single parents, they raised successful children and both managed to keep their homes, which are still in our family today.  Through hard work and faith in God, Mary Thomas and Anna Yarborough lived well, and left a legacy of self-sufficiency, perserverance, and good will towards others.  Many times I've been complimented on the way I've raised my children and managed to rise above the many hard times I've been faced with in my adult life, and I'm often asked the question, "How do you do it?"  Well, now I know, and I have the perfect answer:  "It's the 'stuff' I'm made of!"

Anna Green Yarborough

Anna Beatrice Green was born on January 18, 1891 to parents John Wesley and Susan Dunstan Green.  She was the daughter of Nathaniel Hawkins and Anna B. Green (who she was named for). Anna was born in Rolesville (Wake County), NC, but the family soon moved a few miles north to Louisburg, in Franklin County, but returned to Wake County when Anna was in her teens.  Little is known about Anna's early life, but in 1919, she married Calvin R Yarborough, Jr., a widower with three children.  Anna moved to into the Franklin County home that was built by her new husband and his brother, and became mother to Vida, Priscilla, and Frederick Yarborough.  Over the next five years, she gave birth to her own three children, Susie, Calvin III, and Arthur (my father).  Unfortunately, Calvin began to suffer with the symptoms of tuberculosis, the cause of his first wife's death.  He fell ill, and passed away in 1929, leaving Anna to raise six children alone.  Anna, who was, at the time, involved in the creation of a new church in Louisburg (Mt. Hebron United Holy Church) relied on her faith and worked hard keep the taxes paid on the house that her husband had built, and to keep her children fed, clothed, and educated.  She worked as a laundress, as well as for private families as a housekeeper and nanny.  She also took in sewing, all the while maintaining a leadership role in the church she'd helped to create. She had a sweet disposition and was known throughout the little town of Louisburg as, "Miss Anna".  Anna walked several miles each day to and from her jobs on the "white side" of town.  She never did learn to drive.
As Anna grew older, her three biological children helped to support her so that she no longer had to work.  (The older three died of various causes in their 30's and 40's.)  Her greatest joy was in spending time with her four grandchildren, all the children of her youngest son, Arthur.  She was an excellent cook, and was known for the wonderful cakes she baked.  She took pride in her house and her yard, and gave special care and attention to her "award-winning" rose bushes in her front yard.  She loved to sit out on her in her porch in her brown, wooden rocking chair and wave at all of the passers by, many of whom would stop for a chat.
In February, 1977, when I was 15 years old, my grandmother, Anna Yarborough, died of complications from colon cancer.  She is buried in the family plot on "the hill", which is the Louisburg City Cemetery (formerly, "for the Colored").

Mary Davis Thomas

Mary Davis was born December 26, 1897 in Littleton (Halifax County), NC to parents Walter and Minerva Brown Davis.  According to the 1900 Census, Mary had a brother, one year older, named Samuel, and in 1910, the Census states that her mother had actually born three children, but only one (Mary) was living.  It is likely that Mary never knew or remembered her two siblings, because she never mentioned them to my mother, or to either of her other two children.  Mary's maternal ancestors were her grandparents, Asa and Luvenia Ross Brown, and great-grandparents, Everett and Minerva Ross.  Her paternal grandparents were Lewis and Dollie Davis.  Mary's large extended family all lived in the Littleton and Roanoke Rapids areas of North Carolina.

Around the turn of the 20th Century, several members of the Davis family migrated to Norfolk, Virginia, seemingly to work as longshoremen.  Walter, Minerva and Mary were part of this migration.  By 1910, they, as well as several of their family members are living in the Lambert's Point section of Norfolk.  In 1915, a young Mary was wed to her first love, Allen Walker, at the St. Marks AZUA Church in Norfolk.  Allen worked as a brakeman on the Virginia Railroad.  He and Mary were quite in love and lived happily, sharing a home with her parents until his untimely death, which occured sometime early in their marriage. 

Mary, though heartbroken, had to go on with her life.  At some point, she began doing hair in the porch room of the home that she'd shared with Allen, and she petitioned the owner for it's purchase.  In 1924, the house in Lambert's Point was hers, and it is still in our family today.  Sometime later, Mary met Daniel Webster Hill, and they were married in 1929 in Philadelphia, PA, and in 1930, Daniel, had joined Mary and her parents in the home.  Mary began her family with Daniel; first giving birth to a son, Howell, and then, in 1934, to a daughter (my mother), Mary Anne.  In 1936, Mary's father, Walter, died, but she still had her mother, Minerva there to help her with the house and the chldren. Unfortunately, sometime around 1938, Daniel Hill abandoned his family for reasons unknown, and was never heard from again.

Once again, Mary was left on her own, but this time, with two children. Mary was able to carry on with her very successful hair-care business.  True love struck again, and she married Charlie Thomas, a railroad worker with whom she fell deeply in love.  Mary gave birth to her youngest daughter, Jane, in 1940.  Charlie was a loving and caring provider to his wife, daughter, and step-children.  It seemed that the family had finally found joy, but tragedy struck again, as Charlie was killed in a railroad accident, leaving Mary a widow, once again. 

Understandably, Mary lived the rest of her life without a spouse.  She continued to do hair, and also worked as a secretary and receptionist at the local YWCA.  Her mother, Minerva, who was her partner in raising the children, died in 1960, after they were all grown and gone.  Mary carried on, living alone in the home that she'd purchased in 1924.  At some point, she joined, and became a faithful and committed member of Jerusalem Baptist Church in Norfolk. In the mid-70's, when Mary's health began to fail, she moved in with her daughter Mary's family in Hampton, VA, and later into a nursing home in Chesapeake, close to where her son lived.  Mary Davis Walker Hill Thomas, who'd lived to see three generations of her descendants, died in June, 1986, at the age of 89.  She is buried in Calvary Cemetery in Norfolk, VA in a plot with several family members, including her parents, and her beloved last husband, Charlie.