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.

CoAAG: Major Arthur P Yarborough - He Served With Honor

This post serves as my submission for the third installment of the Carnival of African-American Genealogy: In Memoriam, African-Americans In The Military 1914-1953, which is being hosted by Amy Cain, of Reconnected Roots. For this installment, we are asked to feature an ancestor, relative, or another person who served in the military between the years 1914-1953.  The military hero who will be the subject of my post is my father, Retired  Major Arthur Person Yarborough (deceased).

Before I begin, I must offer a disclaimer, that although I live and grew up in an overwhelmingly military area, flanked by bases and personnel from each of the five branches of the Armed Services, I, myself, am not well-versed in the lingo, nor do I have an in-depth understanding of military protocol.  For that reason, and since I don't quite have the time to research it fully before the deadline for this carnival, I'm asking forgiveness of any readers who may find fault in the way I reference anything about my father's service.  If corrections are offered, I will verify, then edit. :)

My father, Arthur P. Yarborough, joined the Armed Forces in the early 1940's, as one of our nation's first Black Marines.  He completed training at Montford Point, and from there, went on to serve in the South Pacific Theatre. His DD-214 form (on which he is classified as, "Negroid"), shows that he left the Marines, in 1945, but later re-enlisted as an Army soldier. During the interim period, my dad spent a semester at North Carolina A&T and then worked for a short time at the shipyard in Newport News, VA, and as a truck driver for the lumber yard in his hometown of Louisburg, NC.  He then entered the Army, and began what turned out to be over twenty years of very distinguished service to our country.  My father retired from the United States Army (with an honorable discharge) on July 31, 1964 after 20 years, 1 month, and 24 days of service. Of that time, he spent more than nine years in foreign and/or sea service.





                                     

I have no idea what's going on here, but it's clear that everyone is listening to my father!  

When my father retired from the Army, I was only 2 and 1/2 years old.  Though my two oldest siblings lived the "military life" and got to travel and live on military bases, my brother Arthur and I grew up as civilian children, only using the base to shop, go swimming, bowl, and go to the movies.  Because of this, I never really saw my father as a military man, and I had no idea how highly commended he was until after his death.  This saddens me to this day.  My father, being the humble man that he was, never rang his own bell.  I didn't grow up hearing about his military service - his salutations, honors, nor his high ranking amongst his classes.  Neither he, nor my mom ever talked about these things, and the plethora of certificates and medals that I've now discovered were never displayed on the walls or shelves of our home.  What I've learned since my father's death is that he loved and honored the United States Army, but as much as it brought him pride and pleasure, it was also the source of institutional racism, which caused him to have to fight just as hard within his ranks, as he did on behalf of our country.  Despite this, he earned the rank of Major, before he chose to retire in 1964.
As much as I wish I knew some stories to tell about my father's service, I don't; so I'd like to use this space to list just a few of the awards and honors he received during his service career.  There are far too many to list them all, and again, I don't have the background knowledge to really discern which are more important than the others, so I'll just list the ones that are on his DD-214.

World War II Victory Medal

United Nations Service Medal

National Defense Service Medal

AFR Medal

Korean Service Medal

Army Commendation Medal

Army of Occupation Medal (Germany)

Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal

My father was meticulous in his record-keeping (a characteristic no-doubt instilled in him by the Army). It's been tough trying to decide which pictures and/or documents to include in this post, but I think this one that I just found amongst his certificates will give readers an idea of how organized he was.  

The document below is his certificate for The Commendation Ribbon with Metal Pendant (First Oak Leaf Cluster), given February 25, 1958.

Next, here's a letter, or write-up of some sort, (explaining his meritorious achievement) which I'm assuming he was given along with the certificate. (Take special note of the paper clip in the corner.)

Here's what was under that paper clip. :)

That's "Arthur P" (as we called him behind his back) - covering all his bases.  I'm just like that - and I was just reminded of why.

I miss you, Daddy.  May God rest your soul. 

Renate

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

Wisdom Wednesday - Words to Live By

When I was in the seventh grade, my English teacher assigned the following poem to our class to learn and to  recite from memory for a grade. We all moaned and groaned about it at the time, but I, being a budding poet, quickly became excited by the challenge. I did a great job of memorizing and reciting the poem, and received an A+ on the assignment, however, at that young age, the words of this insightful piece of writing were just that to me - words. It wasn't until later in life, as I began to truly develop into the person I am, that the full meaning of this poem was revealed to me. By that time, I'd developed as a Christian woman, and not only that, but my reputation as an honest, forthright, helpful, and kind person was acknowledged by all, even those who didn't particularly consider me their "cup of tea." When I really understood what Rudyard Kipling was getting at, I realized that, even though I didn't "get it" back in seventh grade, I've lived my life according to this mantra, and so I proudly share his words, with one slight revision, in the space below. Decades after being given the assignment, I can still recite this poem by heart, but now, not only do I understand what the words mean; I live them, everyday.

If

by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting, too.

If you can wait, and not be tired by waiting, 

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet, don't look too good, nor talk too wise.

If you dream, and not make dreams your master

If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim,

If you can meet with triumph and disaster,

And treat those two impostors just the same,

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken

And stoop and build them up with worn out tools,

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch and toss, 

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss,

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you,

Except the will which says to them, "Hold on!"

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds worth of distance run,

Yours is the earth, and everything that's in it,

And which is more, this race of life, you will have WON.

 * The bold-italicized words were revised/added by me in 2006, when I prepared copies of this poem to give out to friends of mine at a private party.  I wanted people of both genders to be able to personally relate to the poem, and not to be thrown off by Mr. Kipling's original ending, which reads, "you'll be a man, my son."

My blog was created as a forum to record my family history and to interact with, and reach out to other researchers.  I will not use it as a platform for anything else. I am the person I've presented myself to be.  Those who know me can and will attest to my character. I have never wished or threatened harm against another human being in my life, and I won't start now.  Whatever you've known of me - whatever our interactions and communication have been to this point - it's been true, honest, and sincere.  Trust your own heart.

Blessings to all,

Renate