There she blogs!

All about my passion for discovering who I am and from where I've come!


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#MyQuietHero


I’m sure you’ve heard the expression “still waters run deep” meaning a person who appears to be quiet on the outside may have a very strong and deep personality. That is a very apt description of Daddy’s baby brother, Thaddeus (affectionately known to us as “Uncle Teenie”). Uncle Teenie was indeed a very quiet and gentle man, and it wasn’t until I was an adult that I learned he was carrying some very deep things inside.

Uncle Teenie served in Germany during World War II. He was responsible for getting supplies to the front lines, and many times it was explosives that he was carrying. He drove alone in his truck but as part of a convoy and under cover of darkness, unable to use the lights on the truck he drove. He did this in five European theaters: Normandy, Northern France, Ardennes, Central Europe and Rhineland. In 1944 he was a part of the “Red Ball Express”, which was a highly touted truck convoy system that supplied Allied forces needing to move quickly throughout Europe after breaking out from the beaches of Normandy. Patton’s tanks wouldn’t have been able to move without supplies from the Red Ball Express. Uncle Teenie was awarded five Bronze Stars for valor, four overseas bars and a Victory ribbon. He told of a time when a train he was on came under fire of German pilots. He and the other soldiers lay face down. The men on either side of him were killed. He recalled seeing piles of bodies as tall as houses in the woods of Germany. Fortunately, Uncle Teenie was able to return home to Dalton, Missouri. So proud of him! Rest in love, Uncle Teenie ❤

©2017

(Google Images)


(Google Images)

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#HerBlackStory

The year was 1962. I’m 5 years old in this photo. It’s the first of 13 school pictures I would take while attending K-12 at Keytesville R-III Schools. I remember every detail of the dress I wore for this picture. It was shades of blue, pink and purple. The points of the collar were a heavy tatting-type lace. My ribbons were blue satin, and I remember Mama pinning that tiny little bouquet of flowers onto my collar. They were pink and blue forget-me-nots made of fabric.

Kindergarten was my first venture into the world without my family. I remember Mama drove me to school on the first day. I can still hear the sound of my new shoes against the gravel as we walked to the door, Mama holding my hand tightly. She told me how much fun I would have going to school, how I would make lots of new friends, and how I would learn all kinds of interesting things. I was excited, but not sure I wanted to be there without her. Now that I think back on it, I’m not sure Mama wanted to leave me there that day either. I was her baby, her last child.

The kindergarten room was in the basement of the elementary school. Mrs. Rosemary Woodward was my teacher’s name, and I remember how she smiled at me when Mama brought me to the door of the classroom. Her smile and her kind eyes told me things were going to be just fine, and ultimately they were. I did meet lots of new friends, just like Mama said, and I think all of us were feeling the same things that day. We were all a little scared. Nothing was familiar to any of us.

It took a few days for us to get used to our new surroundings, and to each other. The best part of the days was time spent on the playground. We had a merry-go-round, and the boys would run really fast to make it go around then jump on it so they could ride, too. We had a really tall slide that had a hump in the middle. Girls had to wear dresses to school, and on hot days the slide would burn our legs. On days like that the girls would gather on the steps and act out stories. Sometimes we would pretend to be kittens.

On one of those hot days one of my friends started to cry. We asked her what was wrong, and she said she couldn’t play with me anymore. She said her parents told her if she played with me her skin would turn black, her hair would get fuzzy and nobody would like her anymore. I started to cry, too, because I didn’t know if that was true or not, and I felt like I had done something wrong when I knew I hadn’t. I sure had never heard of anything like that. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to make them mad. She didn’t want to turn black and have fuzzy hair, but she didn’t want to stop playing with me either. So we did what children often do–we kept playing with each other and promised not to say anything unless she really did start to turn black. Then we would have to tell. The year was 1962.

#MYBlackHistory #HerBlackStory #QueueItUp #DailyDoseComing

©2017


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#MyBlackHistory

This is Black History Month, and I’m going to tell you what events have transpired through the past 60 years to become MY black history.
These are the earliest photos of me that I’ve seen. I was about 15 months old in the upper left one. I was born into a family that knew how to love deeply and unconditionally, and still does. The society into which I was born wasn’t so accepting. I was born in 1957 in rural America. The integration of schools had already been ordered, but segregation was still alive and well. There were unspoken rules and boundaries. There were certain restaurants and stores you knew didn’t welcome your business. The owners and patrons might smile and speak to you on the street, but that congeniality disappeared if you dared to darken their doors…so you just didn’t. I wouldn’t learn about those things until I was a few years older and experienced them for myself. You see my parents, and my aunts and uncles as well, didn’t teach segregation to me, my siblings and my cousins. We were taught to treat people well, treat others the way we wanted to be treated. That was the standard we were expected to follow without fail. My early childhood was spent skipping around a huge yard that was home to cherry trees and spirea bushes, playing with beagle puppies and kittens, and singing chorus after chorus of “my Bonnie lies over the ocean”. The troubles of the world weren’t found in my yard. Life was good. ❤

#MyBlackHistory #HerBlackStory #QueueItUp #DailyDoseComing

©2017