The Life That

Speaks for Me
Glimpses into Johnnie Mae’s Heroic Heart

__________

R. Money Rembert

REBECCA C. MONEY
2014
 ii

The Life That Speaks for Me:

Glimpses into Johnnie Mae’s Heroic Heart

Copyright © 2014 by Rebecca C. Money

Pen Name: R. Money Rembert

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or

transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission
from the author.

ISBN: 978-0-692-25046-4
ISBN-10: 0692250468
ISBN-13: 978-0-692-25046-4

Printed in the USA

 iii

DEDICATION

I dedicate this book first to God who makes all things possible in his
appointed season. I thank Him that Johnnie Mae Wilson Money was
my beloved mother, and I create this book in loving memory of her;
she was a very human and very heroic1 soul whose life speaks
volumes about her character and God’s will. I further dedicate this
book to my gifted siblings who are also the biological children of
Johnnie Mae Wilson Money: Bobby T., Faye and LaShea (and to
each of their children), and to our father, Bobby J., to whom our
Momma was married 44 years. I thank my husband, Joseph, very
much, too, for encouraging me to engage in this process with faith,
hope and love. I treasure all of you!

1Lombardi writes that “. . . the hero may be from divine ancestry . . . a hero is
courageous. A hero, or protagonist, is the principal character of a story, who may
be known for special achievements.”
 v

PREFACE

While the general expectation is that we humans will each one live
70+ years of life in this earth, my dear mother, our dear mother,
Johnnie Mae Wilson Money, died just before her 65th birthday.
Heart disease and kidney disease were the culprits that exhausted
her to death following her long-term battle with uncontrolled high
blood pressure. These same culprits also stole the lives of my
mother’s mother, Annie, and of nearly all of my mother’s uncles’.
These shameless culprits remain relentless in their attacks, even
attacking the present generation and aiming at the next. The Lord
rebuke them, in Jesus’ name!

“Momma Money,” as she was often called, died January 31,

2008, at 6:42 p.m., in the cardiovascular intensive care unit of
Baptist South Hospital, in Montgomery, Alabama; the recorded time
of death is 6:45 p.m. That day, all I knew to do was hold her hand
that seemed so very small to me, and trust God who is great and
mighty.

Here I could choose to focus primarily on Momma’s death

and the grief it brought; however, her life is too valuable to push to
second place, behind death. While journeying through this life, my
mother instilled in many people an empowering attitude about the
eternal power of love. Her attitude was that if we truly love others,
then no one dies – not the others, not us and not those to come.
 vi

Momma loved to sing, and she often sang “May the life I
live speak for me,” from the song “May the Work I’ve Done Speak
for Me.”2 She would sing these words as she went about her daily
activities. Clearly she believed that if a person lives a life of faith,
positive works and decent character, then that person has every right
to say, “When I’m resting in my grave, and there’s nothing more to
be said, may the life I live speak for me.”

Despite heart disease and normal human imperfections,

Momma was an awesome model, a “bright and beautiful”3 soul in
God’s universe. What she modeled best was the love Christ
modeled for her -- a love for the eternal power of written and spoken
truths, a love for underdogs and champions, and a love for rare,
priceless jewels such as the justice and wisdom God made for men
to seek and find.

I’m grateful that I knew my mother. For one reason or

another, many people born into this world do not ever meet their
mothers or experience a mother’s unyielding love; that has to be a
difficult life path to travel. However, I was blessed to experience
life with a mother committed and determined, even anointed, to raise
me, along with my siblings, while also caring for other people’s
children and supporting various important causes.

2
Gospel song as performed by The Consolers in the 1950s or 60s.
3
From the poem by Cecil Frances Alexander.
 vii

Not every soul can make the claims I just made, or this next
one: I know for a fact that my mother truly loved me, all of her
children, and many others who chose to call her “Momma.” She
just loved people in general, though I am sure that she did not like
many folks’ life styles or methods of getting what they wanted. I
also know that Momma was not always shown the love she showed
others. Her love was not always acknowledged nor was it always
reciprocated; however, all is well.

My purpose here is not to say that Momma was perfect in

all of her ways or means either; no person but Christ has ever been
perfect. However, one doesn’t have to be perfect in order to be a
model4 any more than a person has to be a “he” in order to be a hero5.
She was in many ways a normal, flawed person and she made human
mistakes to which she readily admitted. However, unlike many
people, she seemed to learn from mistakes and continued to hold up
her head in spite of them.

Momma had a very resilient and passionate spirit, despite

her poor physical health. Still, the spirit guiding her heart and her
humanity set her apart from her illnesses. Therefore, she loved to
see people uplifted, especially as they pursued knowledge and a
better life course. Also, education was major in her life, and she saw

4 “something or someone that is a very good example of something” (http://www.

learnersdictionary.com/definition/model)
5 “A person, typically a man, who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding

achievements, or noble qualities” (www.oxforddictionaries.com)

 viii

it as a potential (but not guaranteed) emancipator and resource to

uplift people. She was determined therefore to pursue knowledge
and be a visible example for others, and she pushed her children,
other people’s children, and quite a few adults to pursue knowledge
and seek wisdom, rather than run from it.

Ignorance was Momma’s nemesis6, and she made no secret

that it was an irritant that rubbed her wrong. More than a few times
I heard her tell a rude, loud, or misbehaving soul to “Stop acting
ignorant” or “Go read a book.” She was just not scared to speak up;
she was boldly confident.

Momma was a devoted reader and writer, too. Even while

working as a social worker for the local public school system, she
used books as tools for character-building in her students, and she
made her students (she called them “her kids”) write. She compelled
people around her to read and write. Moreover, she wanted others to
read more than she read and she wanted others to write more than
she wrote.

Deep within her soul, I hope my mother knew she was

amazingly gifted. She was one of those people who could say
almost anything without showing any fear; now that is a gift. She
could ask questions that angered enemies on the left and won

6 enemy; foe; antagonist; nuisance; a thorn in a person’s flesh

 ix

friendships, even among strangers, on the right. Her gift was her
ability to speak to strangers as though they were family, and show
family that as much as they thought they had her figured out, no one
but God knew all of Johnnie Mae Wilson Money.

Furthermore, Momma was a writer with vision, and she was

a thoughtful writer who always seemed mindful of her intended
audience and purpose. Her writing medium or genre7 was not
limited either. Therefore, she wrote poems, church occasions, a
gospel album8 cover message, speeches for herself and others to
present, news stories for a neighborhood paper, and even the journal
notes referenced in this book.

My mother told me a few months before she died that she

had started a journal that she hoped would become a book one day;
however, she thought her journal had been destroyed mistakenly or
tossed out during a spring cleaning of her house. Well, as indicated,
I recovered the journal. Though very roughly put together, her
journal motivated me to take this major step of publishing the
essence of its notes. I now believe that the journal was never really
lost, just tucked safely away for this time.

What I include in these pages are my interpretations of

7A type or form of writing

8Rev. J. F. Capehart (Caphart?) / Mrs. Capehart (?) album recorded with First
Missionary Baptist Church in Troy, AL (1970’s); specific date unknown
 x

some of her written signs and fragmented assertions left in a simple

purple journal. On other pages, I recall what she told me, along with
my general observations of her life. I intend in no way to exploit
any piece of her remarkable life or to bring any harm to anyone’s
reputation. I simply want others to know that I read my mother’s
journal, I thought about her life, and I felt moved to give her love a
new and living voice.

Her family and friends, her mere acquaintances, and a few

of her self-appointed adversaries can glimpse what stirred in the
heart of this woman. Her physical heart may have failed, but the love
in her heart never lost its will to live. Therefore, these recollections
are what my Momma wanted to write, but did not get the chance to
write. They are what she asked me to help her publish in book
format, and here it is.

The only reading instruction I know to give you is to treat

this book as a sign that God inspired Momma, and that Momma
inspired many people and many people inspired her. Remember,
too, that she worked for God in this life and is now resting in eternity
with the Ultimate Muse, Inspirer and Guide, the Lord and Savior
Jesus Christ. §
 TABLE OF CONTENTS

DEDICATION ......................................................................... iii

PREFACE ................................................................................. v
INTRODUCTION ................................................................... xiii
PART I: HER NEW VOICE
Chapter 1: My History ............................................................... 1
Chapter 2: My First Home ......................................................... 3
Chapter 3: My Uncles ................................................................ 9
Chapter 4: My Aunts ............................................................... 19
Chapter 5: My Sister-Cousins ................................................. 29
Chapter 6: My Mama .............................................................. 39
Chapter 7: Me, Johnnie Mae ................................................... 47
Chapter 8: My Family in Troy ................................................ 57
Chapter 9: My Adult Life ........................................................ 61
PART II: HER STORY CONTINUED
Part II ........................................................................................ 69
Chapter 10: Momma and Her Daddy ...................................... 71
Chapter 11: Annie Lee and Legacies ...................................... 79
Chapter 12: Johnnie Mae’s Legacy ......................................... 89
Chapter 13: The Last Year .................................................... 101
Chapter 14 - CONCLUSION: “One More Time” ................. 113
APPENDIX ........................................................................... 123
BIBLIOGRAPHY ................................................................. 127
 xiii

INTRODUCTION

Many people may never have heard of Johnnie Mae Wilson Money
or the advances she helped her community gain before her death in
2008. They may not know that she completed hundreds, if not
thousands of acts of kindness in this life and most of those
kindnesses she did not discuss; she just did what she could for
people. However, since I cannot cover all that she did, here is a
simple record of one of her bold contributions to Troy, Alabama, to
society and to history.

In 1984 or thereabout, Momma helped change the style of

government in Troy, to the “mayor-council style” (Rice 178) that it
is today. The new style better lent itself to diversifying the
leadership of Troy than did the old commission form of government
that Troy had. Because of the changes to the style of government in
Troy, black leaders had the opportunity to gain the authority
necessary to promote needed changes in Troy.

Before the change in government came, in the fall of 1983,

a bold Troy citizen and activist filed a lawsuit against the City of
Troy. That lawsuit lead to a settlement that required a change in
Troy’s system of government. To hash out the details of the
settlement, a committee of Troy citizens was formed and Johnnie
Mae Wilson Money was appointed as one of the committee
members.
 xiv

In his historical account entitled Troy, 1838 – 2006, Bill

Rice, Sr.9 wrote:

A committee was formed to carve Troy into five

districts, and this process was observed by the
federal government. Initially, one totally black
district and one majority black district was decided
upon. Johnnie Mae Money . . . who was on the
committee, objected to this and pointed out that
blacks could not be elected without a substantial
majority in both of its districts, and that two black
representatives had been agreed upon in the
settlement. There was an awkward pause in
negotiations until [the] Mayor . . . stepped forward
and said the district would have to be formed along
historical black and white neighborhood patterns in
Troy in order to achieve the two black
representatives. Consequently, the biracial
committee constructed two almost totally black
districts, and everybody approved it. (180)10

9 J. Treadwell’s The Messenger news article on Bill Rice, Sr. available at

http://www.troy messenger.com/2010/09/27/troy-loses-man-of-character-with-
rices-death/. Rice was laid to rest in 2010.
10 Rice, Bill. Troy, 1838-2006. Montgomery, AL: The Donnell Group. ISBN 0-

9653313-4-2.
 xv

I was a girl then, but I learned early on this valuable lesson

that remains in my knowledge base: Change rarely occurs without
some drama and resistance. Phone calls cued the start of our drama.
Our home phone began ringing more often during this time of
profound social and political change in Troy. I also remember my
mother, Johnnie Mae, receiving death threats. Of course, as a child,
I was afraid to stay inside our family home, believing that the call
about a bomb under our house was true. I remember hurrying
outside the day the bomb threat came in, and I remember rushing
about the outer perimeter of the house, shoving in vents and peering
through grates, searching for explosives.

Now in my 40s, I still recall the atmosphere of Troy in the

‘80s. A tinge of excitement hovered in the tense air -- a possible
signal that sleeping or sleepwalking residents of Troy were waking
with a new courage and new voices to speak up for their rights. Troy
leaders back then struck an intimidating gaze that tried to stare down
anyone expressing a desire to equalize people of all races, especially
through legal threats. Troy was therefore a difficult and
troublesome place in which to live. Certain people were subjected
to revenge-seeking tactics. Those tactics scared me when I was a
child; today, they agitate me with their ungodly persistence in my
memory.

Change has occurred in small measures in Troy. However,

as indicated, even small changes have brought with them
 xvi

considerable drama and stress to my family, and possibly to other

local families. Specifically, my mother was targeted on more than
one occasion by people who did not like her for speaking up in the
face of error or injustice. In particular, she was falsely accused of
mishandling absentee ballots many years ago, and she was thereafter
arrested. I was a child, but I was also a listener and I knew she was
mistreated. My father explained that the person who made the
accusation against Momma had confused her with another person.
Momma, knowing she was not guilty, remained silent. She did not
want to see the other person get in trouble.

Though finances were tight, my mother had to secure legal

representation to face her false accusers’ false accusations.
According to my father, Momma was represented by two
outstanding attorneys, both of whom later became prominent and
respected federal judges. Also, a well-known, but anonymous
person in Troy contributed significantly to her defense fund.

When Momma’s case came forward, the judge dismissed it,

possibly recognizing that my mother had been a victim of mistaken
identity. The person who made the claim admitted that he had made
a mistake and he apologized wholeheartedly to my mother who
forgave him and acknowledged his honest mistake.

Though Momma was legally cleared, she was deeply hurt

by the way some local people gloated as others tried to railroad her
 xvii

life into a ditch and remove her from her family. She lost interest in
Troy politics after that. Later, when my father unsuccessfully ran
for the council seat in our district, Momma came out of the shadows
just long enough to support him as her husband; after that, she
retreated. She stopped carpooling voters to the polls and actively
supporting local candidates. However, she continued vocally to
encourage people to exercise their right to vote; still, she left it up to
individual voters to research the candidates themselves to decide for
whom they should cast their votes.

Eventually Momma was cleared of any charges; however,

the recurring issue of her life became clear. People were willing to
misrepresent who she was or what she stood in support of whenever
they wanted to shut “Mrs. Money’s” mouth or sit her down. Even a
few years before her death, she dealt with a situation in which
someone for whom she had considerable respect openly asserted
that Momma and two of her daughters were planning to facilitate
criminal activity by attempting to open a children’s daycare on
private property Momma had purchased. In essence, someone
attempted to denigrate her name and that of her daughters, and
possibly blackball11 them from achieving certain professional goals
in the community. The wrongness and unkindness of this
misrepresentation and accusation wounded Momma deeply, and its
unjustified nature should become clearer to patient readers. §

11 Ruin opportunities or try to exclude

 PART I: HER RECOVERED VOICE12

12 SECTION NOTE and Special Disclosures: Some names have been changed
or omitted for personal reasons. The information presented hereafter is in no way
intended to defame anyone. Footnotes have been added to supplement reading
and were not a part of the original journal notes. Journal notes were revised into
complete sentences or thoughts, as needed. The author (R. Money Rembert) took
license in using first person. Clarifying information is added to support reader
comprehension, not to distort any facts. – The Author
 1

CHAPTER 1: MY HISTORY

I am Johnnie Mae Money; my maiden name is Wilson and my

mother was born a Thornton. I pay tribute to my heritage as a
member of the Thornton / Wilson family. This is a true and accurate
account of my family history to the best of my knowledge and as
much as I can remember.

First, I come from a place some people might think of as

backward and country. Other people probably think I was spoiled
and came up pretty blessed. Depending on who you talk to is how
you can describe where I come from. Whatever people think, I
know I am from a place where I learned about pillars.13 I learned
how to be a pillar by looking at other people, especially women who
had to stand up in some rough situations, otherwise they and their
children would have died and been forgotten.

Like the pillar of a grand house, sometimes I have been very

strong and sometimes I have felt so weak. Even when folks have
talked about me and tried to do me wrong, I have had to trust God
and look to the Lord for help and strength. You know, sometimes
people just disappoint you so much and they won’t always be there
for you, but God is always “closer than a brother,” father or friend.
God has been there for me, too, and helped me to stand up for

13 a source of support and strength; someone on whom others can depend or lean
 2

myself, for my children, and for other folks not even any kin to me;
I have stood up a lot.

So this is a true and accurate account of my family whose

God-given name I love. Even though I am married, I still use my
family name when I need to remind some folks of exactly who they
are dealing with, and note that some people I shouldn’t have to
remind who I am, I sometimes do have to remind.

In this little journal, I will share as much as I can remember.

I am not ashamed of my life, even though I have made some
mistakes along the journey. However in my heart, I believe I have
done some good and blessed somebody.
§
 3

CHAPTER 2: MY FIRST HOME

At the age of approximately four years old, when I was a very young
girl living in the “clay hills”14 of Russell County, Alabama, my
family’s first home was at Rural Route 1, right near the Russell
County / Barbour County line. I remember that first old rambling,
three-room house with its large shady yard, no indoor plumbing and
not even an outhouse where you could go handle your serious
business in private. Instead, we would at night just use a pee bucket
or what some folks called a “slop jar,” and during the day, the woods
and brush were our “relief station,” if you know what I mean.

We all lived with Papa and Big Mama who ruled the whole
house. There were a bunch of family living in this big house,
including my uncles -- Toy, Limb, and Slim, and my aunts – Honey
and Adele -- and my mama (known as “Sister”) whose actual name
was Annie Lee.

My Aunt Princess also lived there for a while. Then, there

were my cousins – Lou and Sarah – and myself, Johnnie Mae
(though Uncle Toy always called me “Sam”). Uncle Toy called
Sarah “Bucket,” and he called Lou “Tongue.” I was “Sam” or “Fat
Sam” because I was the largest of the three of us, but not the oldest.
Sarah was bucket or “Pee Bucket” because she wet the bed when

14 Quoted-enclosed phrase is presented just as it appears in the original journal.

 4

she was little, and Lou was “Tongue” because she always got in
trouble for sucking her tongue, at least that’s what the old folks said
she did.

My cousins and I would often walk down the path from the
family house to the 431 Highway, and we would look at the pretty
cars and claim that they were ours. We would look with envy at the
rich-looking white women and announce, “That’s me!” while
knowing all the time that we were not rich, white women. We were
little black girls in south Alabama, in the Deep South15, and we were
the exact opposite of what we had the nerve to be jealous of or
pretend to be.

My biggest wish as a girl was to someday marry a handsome

man, a “prince” with plenty of money and a nice car – A man who
would take me away from this dreary place known as Foster
Plantation. Well, I did leave that old rambling house, but I didn’t
leave with my “prince;” I was only nine years old, and too young to
marry a prince or a pauper. Instead, I left with a queen named Annie
Lee.

~ Papa ~

15 A reference to the original Confederate states of the United States that

attempted to separate permanently from the U. S. prior to the U. S. Civil War.
These states have a racially-charged history as places of racial injustice and
segregation, as well as of profound advancements in civil rights.
 5

Papa Nathan was a small-framed man who drank lots of

moon shine16. I sometimes wondered if he brewed his own, but I
could never be sure of this. He was a sharecropper for Mr. Foster,
the rich white man who lived in a huge pretty house on the
property. Well, the house might not be so pretty by today’s
standards, but it was a nice house. I never was invited through the
front door of the Foster house; black people were only allowed at
the backdoor, in the kitchen. Mrs. Foster always met us at the
backdoor when Aunt Honey was too busy to meet us there.

Papa had his vice and his pros. For one, he would always
stretch out on the floor after he came in from the fields and after he
drank his moonshine. Lou, Sarah and I would race to lie next to
him on the big pillow left over from an old discarded sofa chair.
Papa would toss the pillow on the floor in the same spot every day,
and that is where he rested until time to eat. We loved our Papa
very much, and even though he drank, he never became violent.
He was always protective and kind to his family.

One day, Papa became very ill and it seemed that nothing
could cure him. Uncle Roger, who had moved away from the
Foster Plantation by then and married a lady named Evelyn, drove
all the way back down South from Indiana to take Papa back North
to see a better doctor. The truth was that back then the health of

16 Various names exist; illegally made and sold liquor (Grabianowski)

 6

“negroes” (as we were called didn’t matter that much to doctors in

the South.

I was very young at this time, and the old folks didn’t
believe in letting children see or hear very much in those days, so I
can’t be sure what Papa’s illness was; however, remembering the
symptoms I observed, I now believe he either had some form of
cancer or tuberculosis, though I did overhear Big Mama mention the
word “pneumonia” one time.

Anyway, Papa never made it to Indiana, to see the good

doctors. Apparently on the way there, in the back seat of Uncle
Roger’s car, Papa died with his head in Aunt Evelyn’s lap. I
remember overhearing mention of a “death rattle” which is
supposedly the last breath a person takes before dying. I also
remember hearing someone say Papa pointed his right index finger
up, twirled it one complete revolution, and that was the last thing he
did.

Papa’s death really did not shock me much because when

my uncles loaded Papa into the car to leave for Indiana, I had a really
eerie feeling that I would not see him alive again. He had a terrible
cough that smelled like rotten puke, and he moaned and groaned as
the pain racked his body. Papa is buried at the cemetery of the
church our family attended in Fort Mitchell, Alabama.
~ Ma, Big Ma, Big Mama ~
 7

Annie Lou, Big Mama or Ma, as she was known, was a

pillar of strength, especially after Papa died. Even though Papa was
no longer with us, we continued to live in the Big House with Ma.
Uncle Toy became the head of the household in the sense that he
took over the farm work and he and Ma made all of the decisions
after Papa’s passing.

I have to tell you, Ma was not an easygoing person like Papa

was, and even though I loved her deeply, I was always fearful of her.
She would smack you without notice, and the whippings she dished
out with her switches were never to be forgotten. Ma would whip
us for any and everything, but especially if we wet the bed.
Whenever we would wet the bed, we would get up early and try to
hurry and remake the bed with clean, dry sheets. If we couldn’t
remake the bed, then we would try to stay in the bed until it was dry.
This never worked, however, because the pee odor would fill the
room. It was impossible to fool Ma, and a waste of time really.

Sundays with Ma
Ma always made the whole family go to Sunday school and
church. We all would have to walk across a big, huge pasture full
of cows and bulls to get to church. Needless to say, we children
were very frightened to pass the animals, but we were more
frightened to not pass them, because we did not want to tangle with
Ma. Fortunate for us is that most of the time, we walked with an
elderly lady named Mrs. Ella. She wasn’t afraid of the cows and she
 8

always kept her a stick. However, when she was sick and could not
go to church, we would have to cross the pasture alone. We mostly
ran all the way to church – and back – unless we had Mrs. Ella with
us.

Every fourth Sunday, Ma would cook for the preacher and

his wife. Honestly, I didn’t like it much when the preacher and his
wife came to Sunday dinner because the grown-ups would get all
the best pieces of meat and we children were left with the chicken
feet, necks and backs. One fourth Sunday, my mama, Annie, helped
Ma cook while the preacher and his wife waited in the front room.
All of a sudden, my mama called all of us children to the kitchen to
sit at the table. She then fixed each of us a plate and sat with us
while we ate. I recall the funny expressions on all of the grown
folks’ faces; it was just unheard of at Ma’s house for children to eat
first. Mama, noticing their faces, ignored them and told us children
to eat and then go outside. I don’t know what happened inside, but
I learned something that day that I practice to this day: Whenever I
have guests for dinner, I always feed the children first.
 9

CHAPTER 3: MY UNCLES
Toy
I grew up mainly around my Uncle Toy, though I had
several uncles. Uncle Toy was the youngest boy in the family. He
was very energetic and hardworking all the time. In addition to
being a farmer, he also worked as a “shade tree mechanic,” and he
would spend most of his Saturday’s working on his 1936 Model T
Ford. Also for miles around, he was everybody’s mechanic. If
Uncle Toy couldn’t fix it, then it couldn’t be fixed!

Uncle Toy had two animals: Preacher (his mule) and Pet
(his horse). Preacher once kicked Uncle Toy in the leg. Aside from
Preacher and Pet, the family had hogs, cows and chickens. Big
Mama and Toy also kept a garden full of vegetables and a small
orchard full of fruit trees. Peaches, pears, apples, pecans, and
blackberries were plentiful (and also plums).

The Accident
One day during the off season from sharecropping farming,
Uncle Toy and Uncle Limb took a job working on a bridge in
Columbus, Georgia. Late one evening, someone I don’t recall
informed us that the bridge had collapsed, trapping my two uncles
underneath it and killing a nearby neighbor also working on the
bridge. Both of my uncles were able to be dug out of the debris.
Uncle Limb barely suffered a scratch, but Uncle Toy had to stay in
a Columbus hospital for a long time. When he was eventually
 10

released, he was crippled. One leg was shorter than the other, and
he wore a pin in his knee.

The story told to the family was that after the accident, the
company leader had gotten all of the men to sign papers agreeing
not to sue as long as all of their medical bills were paid. Being
uneducated, my uncles knew nothing about hiring lawyers.
Therefore, they were never compensated after the accident. Uncle
Toy walked with a limp for the rest of his life.

After his accident, Uncle Toy eventually met and married

his first wife. He then closed down the farm and moved to Orlando,
Florida, leaving Ma, Sarah and Lou alone in the Big House. The
Big House was not the same one mentioned earlier, at Route 1. It
was the old Foster House on the Highway that we next moved into.
The Foster family actually had built a nice new home near the black
Baptist church not far from the county line.

The old Taylor house that my family moved into was a

decent house, but it was nothing fancy. The rooms were large and
there were plenty of them for everyone to have some privacy.
However, there was no inside bathroom. Funny – I never thought
of white people using out-houses until now.

At the Taylor house, we had a huge yard with lots of shade

trees and a big brown barn that matched the color of the house.
 11

Funny, too -- I was a little disappointed because I expected more of

the Taylor’s house. I expected something magical, fairytale-like, to
justify us never being allowed to come in the front door when the
Taylors lived there, as I imagined other visitors did.

Oh . . . I was talking about Uncle Toy. Uncle Toy died in

the Orlando area, and he is buried there. He died of heart failure
after having open heart surgery. I did not realize it then, but heart
disease would be the curse of our family.

I did not go to Uncle Toy’s funeral for many reasons. All I

can say in terms of that matter is that as I grew older, I did not remain
as close to any of my uncles as I wanted. I grew up in the same house
with them, but I never thought I would be estranged from them.

I suppose that lack of relationship with the men in my family

hurt my spirit. As an adult, I believe a hurt spirit does not recover
quickly enough in this quick life. It’s rare to see people experience
that bible type of restoration -- the restoring of the years that the
warring locusts feed on17.

Anyway, Uncle Toy and his first wife split up after some
years. I did get to know Uncle Toy’s first wife a bit. One summer
(I believe it was in 1978 or 1979), I took my family to Orlando, to

17
Joel 2:25, KJV Bible
 12

visit Disney World. We also stopped in Silver Springs to ride the

glass bottom boat. We stayed with my uncle and his first wife
during that trip. I enjoyed the visit and so did my children, my step
son Greg and one of my nephews on my husband’s side of the
family. I remember two other young children being there at Uncle
Toy and his wife’s house – a cute little girl and little boy. It was a
memorable trip and time well spent.

My uncle remarried after his divorce. I did not get to know

his second wife or her children, and she did not get to know me.
Uncle Toy died in 1998, if I’m not mistaken.

This obituary is an added, information-redacted note:

TOY ______, 67, Maitland, FL died Friday, June

12, of congestive heart failure. He was a concrete
pavement specialist. Born in Eufaula, Ala., he
moved to Central Florida in 1967. He was Jehovah's
Witness. Survivors: wife; stepdaughters; sister [in]
Cleveland; brothers [in] Chicago [and]
Jacksonville; and two grandchildren. Morales and
Starks Multinational Funeral Home . . . 18

18 Added in: "Obituaries." Orlando Sentinel. Web. 14 May 2012.

 13

I do wonder if my uncle’s wife at the time of his death knew

my name. I wonder if Uncle Toy remembered his nieces and
nephews, since the obituary writer seemed not to have known of us.
I wonder if Uncle Toy had lifelong friends. I wonder about so much
when it comes to my Uncle Toy.

Roger
I did not grow up around Uncle Roger; however, he stayed
in contact with the family and I saw him several times in my life.
He and a few of my other relatives migrated up North before I was
even a thought in my mother’s mind.

Uncle Roger had a very sophisticated way about him, and

he spoke with authority. He was quite active and respected in his
church in East Chicago, too. I stayed with him briefly after I
finished high school, and was made welcome there with him, his
wife and children. While staying with him, I worked briefly at Rand
McNally publishing.

News from Indiana

My cousin, Doris, of Indiana, called to let us know that
Uncle Roger’s wife, Evelyn, passed. They were married 62 years.
I was surprised to hear of her passing, and I believe she died
suddenly. I regret not being able to attend her funeral in Indiana.
With Aunt Evelyn’s death, something has become clear to me: My
family and I wired a peace lily plant. Sarah reported that the plant
 14

looked “very crispy nice, like new money.” It seems that Uncle
Roger is in the hospital now and has also been diagnosed with a
serious illness. I am learning what many people have already said:
“It’s not always the weakest who die first, but it’s who’s next on the
roll, according to God’s will.”

Added Note: Uncle Roger passed a few months after his

wife died.
ROGER ______ East Chicago, Indiana Age 80,
passed away on Wednesday, September 14, 2005 at
Methodist Hospital Southlake Campus . . .
Survivors [include] two daughters; three
grandchildren; one sister . . . and many nieces,
nephews, other relatives and friends. He was
preceded in death by his wife and son. Funeral
services will be held on Tuesday, September 20,
2005 at 11 a.m. . . . Friends may call on Monday,
September 19, 2005 at the Church from 6-8 p.m.
with Masonic Rites at [7:00] p.m. He was retired . .
. and was a 50-year member of the Lakeside Lodge.
Hinton & Williams Funeral Home, East Chicago,
in charge of arrangements.19

Limb
I grew up around Uncle Limb and was in contact with him
pretty much his whole life. Uncle Limb, the oldest of Papa and Ma’s
ten children, was much like his father as far as drinking moonshine
was concerned. Uncle Limb was very tall and very skinny, and he

19 Added in: "Obituary." Chicago Sun-Times Post Tribune. Web. 14 May 2012.
 15

resembled Papa in his face. He was thin like Papa, too, but much
taller than Papa. A regular clown/comedian, Uncle Limb was all of
that and more. He and Uncle Toy were always arguing about Uncle
Limb’s drinking. Uncle Toy never abused alcohol, and I never saw
him drink anything, not even a beer. I know one thing that Uncle
Toy did not try to hide – He despised “drunks,” as he sometimes
referred to people who consumed too much of the spirits.

Uncle Limb was Lou’s father. He worked in the fields only

when he wanted to work because he said, “I ain’t going to let those
white folks kill me.” After his and Uncle Toy’s accident at the
bridge, Uncle Limb took a bus and somehow ended up in Bay
County, Florida, where he met a good lady, Ms. Maddie.

Ms. Maddie became Uncle Limb’s girlfriend and a family

ally. This relationship between Uncle Limb and Ms. Maddie led to
the migration of almost our entire family to Bay County. He and
Ms. Maddie never did get married, however, because of Uncle
Limb’s life style of chasing women and getting drunk.

Uncle Limb died in Bay County, from a combination of

illnesses. He was diagnosed with liver cancer and cirrhosis of the
liver. He is buried in St. Andrews.

Don
 16

I did not grow up in the house with Uncle Don. However,

I can attest to the fact that he was a loudmouthed, perverted alcoholic
who I did not much respect. He went to jail once for raping his step-
daughter. Needless to say, I would not allow him to put his hands
on me or my children for any reason. I actually threatened to jump
on Uncle Don after Uncle Limb’s funeral because I felt that he was
getting too close to my girls and of course, I did not trust him.

After the funeral that day, the family met at Sarah’s house
for a little repass, and the den in Sarah’s house was full of people,
relatives mostly, that afternoon. When I entered the room, I saw
Uncle Don standing near my little girls, just running his mouth at
them and grinning. I immediately felt enraged and I threatened to
jump him. I don’t know if I was angrier that he was talking to my
girls or that no one in the family tried to pull them away from him,
since everybody in there knew his ways.

When I confronted Uncle Don that day, I know that no one

in the family tried to intervene then either, probably because all of
them knew his story. Also, not only was he near my children, but
he had shown himself to be disloyal to the family in other ways. In
particular, I was very angry with him because he became a buddy to
R. B. who I believed at the time was regularly abusing my cousin,
Lou, to whom R. B. was married. I believe that most people in the
family knew that R. B. was not good to Lou, though no one I know
 17

ever interfered in their marriage. [Purple Journal contains no

further information about what happened to Uncle Don.]

Slim
I did not grow up in the house with Uncle Slim. In fact,
Uncle Slim was always a mystery to me. The story was that he
simply came in from the fields one day, took a bath, walked down
the path to Highway 431, caught the Greyhound bus and left
Alabama. Whatever his story was, the fact is that at some point, he
ended up in far northeast Florida, not far from the Georgia line.

Uncle Slim never came home just to visit; he would not

come home unless he was coming for a funeral. Immediately after
a funeral, he would leave town. He also did not visit Big Ma in all
of the years she remained ill. I personally never set eyes on his wife
or children. My Mama and Sarah once went to visit Uncle Slim and
that’s the way they met his family and confirmed for the rest of us
that he actually had one.

Though he was a mysterious person, Uncle Slim had a way

about him that commanded respect from others. I just liked him; I
can’t really explain why. Maybe I liked him because of his quiet,
easygoing manner. Maybe, to me, those characteristics signaled
goodness in a person, since the scripture made mention that a meek
 18

and quiet spirit was a sign of God’s presence20. [Purple Journal

contains no further information about what happened to Uncle
Slim.]

20 1 Thessalonians 4:11, KJV Bible

 19

CHAPTER 4: MY AUNTS

Princess
Princess, Sarah’s mother, died from complications
following childbirth. She contracted pneumonia just after Sarah was
born at the house on Route 1. Sarah was only three weeks old when
her mother died at the same house at Route 1. I remember that Lou
and I were hiding behind the door, peeping into the room, when
Princess passed. I must have been about five years old at the time;
Sarah was an infant, and I am five years older than she is. After
Princess died and was laid to rest, Princess’s husband, JT,
disappeared. Big Ma therefore raised Sarah and Lou.

Adele
Adele was the youngest of Ma and Pa’s children. I don’t
know much about her except that she skipped town with Aunt
Honey’s first husband, Gary, many years ago. Adele and Gary went
up North, and the family was outraged. Adele was about 17 years
old when this happened.

An attractive girl, Adele always seemed wildly unsettled. I

remember that she and Aunt Honey never had a trusting relationship
after Adele’s betrayal with Gary. Though the relationship between
Gary and Adele did not last, the hostility between Adele and Aunt
Honey continued.
 20

Later in life, Adele met and married Randolph, and they

conceived three children. Randolph eventually left Adele for a
young girl barely out of high school. Adele then met and married a
man from Alabama. I believe they separated after several years of
marriage, but they remained friends.

Sarah and I went to visit Aunt Adele at her home in Ohio

late one spring, I believe in 1979. With my two daughters and
Sarah, I boarded the Trailways bus and began the voyage that
seemed to take forever. On the trip, I encountered flirts,
panhandlers, pimps, and big coat salesmen21. I remember a
particularly unpleasant bus change and layover in Louisville,
Kentucky. After what seemed an endless wait, the bus finally pulled
out. The bus driver then began to take the highway curves on what
seemed like two wheels (?). Passengers were being thrown all over
the bus, and I know that people were scared.

I remember ordering the bus driver to either slow it down or

let my children and me off that ride. When I said that, the rest of the
bus riders got on the bandwagon with me. The bus driver was
annoyed with us for complaining about his driving, but he slowed
down. We finally reached Ohio, and one of my cousins picked us
up from the bus station.

21 A hustler who makes money by selling whatever he can acquire, even if he

steals his merchandise and hides it in his coat or anywhere on his person in order
to sell it later.
 21

During that time, Aunt Adele was caring for Big Ma. I
remember the weather being chilly even though it was late spring. I
had to go buy sweaters for my girls and me, because we had dressed
according to Alabama weather, which is hot and muggy even in
springtime. I also remember on that trip meeting a distant or
extended family member, Eldorado, who drove a fancy Cadillac and
claimed to own another one.

One day, when Eldorado came to visit at Aunt Adele’s

house, he showed definite signs of nervousness. He stayed for hours
at the house, telling story after story about his colorful life,
obviously afraid to go outside and get in his car. About midnight,
we were all exhausted and ready to go to bed, though it was
interesting to hear Eldorado and another distant, female relative talk
about their firsthand knowledge of the famous Eddie Levert of the
equally famous singing group, the O’Jays. It was also interesting to
debate with them the appropriate term for soda: drink (which is the
term we southerners used) or pop (which is the term the northerners
used).

Eventually, everyone figured out that some gangsters were

after Eldorado, which is why he didn’t want to go outside.
Apparently, he owed some serious money and they were planning
to take it out of his flesh if he didn’t pay them back. Eldorado
begged Sarah and me to walk him to his car, so we did. As he drove
 22

off, we could hear Anita Ward’s disco hit “Ring My Bell” thumping
through his speakers. I never saw him again.

Adele Moves Ma
I was upset when Aunt Adele moved Ma to Ohio with her.
Ma had developed sugar diabetes and one of her legs had been
amputated. She had lived with Sarah for many years and Sarah had
taken very good care of Ma, and I could visit quite a bit. However
when Ma went to live with Adele, I could not visit her as I had been
able to when Ma lived with Sarah in Florida.

Aunt Adele took good care of Ma, too; however, Ma died

while living up north with Adele. During this time, I was eight
months pregnant with my last child and youngest daughter, Shea.
Besides being afraid of airplanes, I was just too large, just too
pregnant, to ride a bus that far, and Aunt Adele and Uncle Roger had
already decided to bury Ma in Cleveland.

I do not think I will ever have peace at the thought that I

never paid my last respects to Ma. She meant so much to me,
especially during my early childhood. I think that the reason Ma’s
northern children chose to bury her in Ohio is that they did not want
to travel South again because it was such a great distance. However,
the South was Big Ma’s home and she and Papa should have been
buried near each other.
 23

Honey
Aunt Honey had three husbands during her lifetime. As
stated, the first one ran away with Aunt Honey’s youngest sister.
Aunt Honey’s second marriage, to Herman, did not last long either,
but I never knew the reason. One day, Herman was there, and then
bang, he was gone. Herman was a very tall, slender, easygoing man.
I wish Aunt Honey could have stayed with him, but here was another
failed relationship for her.

Mr. Joe was Aunt Honey’s third and last husband. She
stayed with him for the duration of his life. He seemed to be a decent
man, and Mr. Joe and Aunt Honey lived in a very neat home with
nice fruit trees and flowers in the yard.

Aunt Honey was a decent lady, too. She was also a chain
smoker who spoke with a deep voice with a raspy undertone. She
often licked her thin lips in between words and her eyes darted left
and right as she spoke. She always had some nervous energy that
she did not appear to know how to control. Maybe that is why she
smoked so much and licked her lips; I don’t know. Eventually, Aunt
Honey developed that distinct smokers’ cough, and she lived with it
for quite some time.

In 1992, Aunt Honey was hospitalized because she was

having trouble breathing and because her kidney function was
rapidly failing. I remember going to her house just before she was
 24

admitted to the hospital. She let me know that she was having
trouble outputting urine. My logic then was to do what I had heard
others do: I took her into the bathroom and turned the sink faucet
on so that the water could run. I hoped hearing the water run would
motivate her kidneys to work. I even had her to put her hands under
the running water, thinking that the feel of the water might somehow
trigger or stimulate her kidney’s to respond. I tried, but my idea
failed. Aunt Honey died in June of 1992 at Bay Medical Center in
Florida. Her cause of death was respiratory and kidney failure.

Though she was married a few times, Aunt Honey never had
any children; therefore, Lou, Sarah and I became very close to her.
Also, we lived in the same house with her during our early years, so
we loved and trusted her as we did Big Ma. We all grew up with
Aunt Honey, but Sarah was clearly the favorite even after death
separated them. Aunt Honey would always buy gifts and necessities
for Sarah, but somehow she would forget that Lou and I were paying
attention to that. I think that deep within her heart, Aunt Honey
wanted Sarah to be her own daughter.

When Aunt Honey died, she willed her immaculately kept

home to Sarah. I believed that Sarah deserved to inherit the home
because she had dedicated so much of her life to helping Aunt
Honey, despite her occasional frustration at having so much
responsibility. Sarah had also dedicated much of her life to caring
for Big Ma following Big Ma’s leg amputation. Sarah was a
 25

dedicated caregiver and a faithful person, and for that, I will always
admire and appreciate her.

As stated, Aunt Honey married Mr. Joe in Bay County,

Florida. My own mother, Annie Lee, had moved Aunt Honey to
Bay County (Panama City) during the late 1950s, possibly 1958 or
1959. Aunt Honey’s moving left Ma, Lou and Sarah alone in the
Big House, and this was not safe for them. As stated, Uncle Toy
had deserted sharecropping by then and he had moved to Orlando
with his new wife in an effort to have a better life than what was
offered to him in Russell County.

What can I say about Mr. Joe that I haven’t said? Well, I
can say that my Mama and some of Aunt Honey’s siblings did not
like him. Big Ma almost despised him. He was very cranky and
judgmental and never wanted Aunt Honey to do anything for her
family. The tensions were apparent, and my mama and Mr. Joe
would not even step foot in one another’s homes. Mama also forbade
me to go to his house. (He actually owned that house before his
marriage to Aunt Honey). However, I was who I was, so I would
sneak and go visit Aunt Honey when I wanted to see her; she was
my closest aunt and I loved her. Besides, Mr. Joe had always made
me welcome there and he had been nice to me.

Aunt Honey was a great cook, too. She had worked as a

 26

maid, cook and babysitter for years. All of this work Aunt Honey
did in addition to working in the fields. She was also a sharp-
dressing lady with so many pretty clothes. Aunt Honey was also a
very neat housekeeper. When people visited her, she would watch
people like a hawk watches chickens to make sure that no one
moved anything out of place in her house. Once, she “called out”
one of my children because a tiny piece of dark red thread from my
daughter’s outfit fell onto her brown carpet. Who else would have
seen that, but Aunt Honey? I just chuckled and told my child to pick
up the string before Aunt Honey had a seizure.

Mat
I never grew up around Aunt Mat, as I called her. However,
I had contact enough with her to know her pretty well. Aunt Mat
always lived in Indiana, like Uncle Roger. I always thought that
Aunt Mat and Uncle Roger were very sophisticated, [and] they were
both nice to me in their own ways.

Aunt Mat had four children -- three daughters and one son.
Her children always called the ones of us who lived in Alabama and
Florida, “farmers from down South.” I didn’t like that at all.

When Aunt Mat died, Sarah and I went to Indiana, for her
funeral. I got very sick on the way up there. My blood pressure was
high and I experienced a lot of swelling. I spent much of my time
there [lying] on the floor with my feet elevated, trying to get the
 27

swelling down. I was glad to return to my home. I realized at that

point that traveling a long distance was not something I should try
again until my blood pressure was much better.

Great Aunt Bay-By

Here I think about Ma’s sister, my great aunt, Bay-By. I
was very fond of Aunt Bay-By and her three daughters. Aunt Bay-
By loved her daughters and taught them some great survival skills.
Each of her daughters was born with a disability, so they stuck close
to Aunt Bay-by.

Aunt Bay-by also had a son named Sampson. He was quite

popular with the ladies and the complete opposite of his sisters in
terms of his mental ability. Sampson developed cancer while he was
living in Ohio, and he died at Aunt Adele’s house. Since Adele was
the closest family he had there, she took him into her home. As far
as Aunt Bay-By’s daughters go, I have not seen or heard from them
since Aunt Bay-By died in April of 2000, in Barbour County,
Alabama.

Sarah and Gate went with me to the funeral site. We were

very late that day because we got lost trying to find the church.
However, we were able to pay our respects to Aunt Bay-By.
 29

CHAPTER 5: MY SISTER-COUSINS

I love Sarah and Lou as sisters, even though technically they are my
first cousins. We always remained close, and my children grew up
calling them “Aunt Sarah” and “Aunt Lou;” likewise, their children
called me “Aunt Johnnie Mae.” I don’t know of any blood sisters
who were any closer than we were.

Sarah
Born at the Big House at Route 1, Sarah was the youngest
one of us children living with Big Ma, and Sarah was the only child
of Aunt Princess. Lou and I always kept secrets from Sarah because
Sarah would tell our secrets to Big Ma and cause us to get
whippings. She was definitely our little sister in every sense of the
word – the little sister we would protect at all cost, as well as the one
who could get us in trouble by talking too much.

One time our school held a dance and well, Lou just loved
to dance! When we got off the school bus that evening, Sarah rushed
ahead of Lou and me and went straight to tell Big Ma that Lou was
“dancing those shoes out” at school. Since it was common
knowledge that if Sarah knew anything, she was going to tell Big
Ma, it was very unwise of us to let Sarah know or see what we
thought should be kept secret.
 30

Also, like I stated, Sarah was nicknamed “Bucket” or “Pee

Bucket” because she wet the bed. The fact that Sarah would get
whippings for wetting the bed was the only vindication that Lou and
I got. I know that’s wrong. Really, I never believed in the idea of
spanking children for bedwetting.

One thing that really bothers me and nags at my heart is that

Sarah has not (at least not to my knowledge) confessed Christ and
received baptism. This is something that I have encouraged her to
do many times over the years. However, I always say that Sarah is
too good of a person to not be in the church.

Sarah is married to Tommy; she met him when they were

both very young. Actually, Tommy was a childhood friend of
Sarah’s, so he was well-known to the family. They have two
children, April and Tommy, Jr.

Sarah and I are very close and I love her very much. She
has a way of making me laugh that no one else does. However, I
feel that she keeps secrets from me sometimes. I think that may be
the way she deals with stress. Plus, I think she tries to spare my
feelings by keeping quiet on some subjects.

Lou
One night, in 1978, Lou’s husband, R. B., murdered her, as
well as her close friend/neighbor who let Lou and her children stay
 31

with her. Lou is buried in Bay County, Florida. She left behind
seven children to survive the rest of their lives possibly wondering
“Why did he kill my mama?” I think I know the answer; whether
or not it is my place to answer the question, I’m not sure . . .

Lou was a person of mild manner who put up with much

pain and suffering in her short life. I think she tolerated
mistreatment because she had a low self-esteem. This low self-
esteem may have been the result of having not known her mother
and not being the center of her father’s attention. Like my own
father, Lou’s father seemed more interested in chasing women than
knowing her. Unlike my father, Lou’s father was an alcoholic. Also,
Lou’s mother literally handed her over to Big Ma when Lou was just
an infant. Older family members told me that Lou’s body was
covered with impetigo,22 and her mother thought Lou was going to
die. Big Ma asked if she could have Lou, and Ma assured Lou’s
mother, Priscilla (a. k. a. “Pig”), that she could cure Lou and take
care of her. Priscilla agreed, and Ma did just what she promised.
She cured Louise and raised her.

Lou was very sweet, and I believe that her sweetness and
low self-esteem led her to accept men’s behaviors that were
inappropriate and abusive. She had a passivity with men, and the

22
According to JoAnna Longstaffe’s article at thefreelibrary.com, impetigo is a
contagious disease of the skin that generally occurs in children and presents as
pus-oozing “bumps” that turn red and scar.
 32

men in her life seemed to recognize this weakness and exploit it.
Lou’s acceptance of certain men and their abuse disturbed me. I was
especially worried when she married R. B. I believed Lou was naïve
in many ways and just not prepared to deal with him.

Lou and R. B. conceived four children: three girls and one

boy. Lou already had three children from her previous marriage.
With R. B., Lou was always struggling in deep poverty and she did
not seem to know how to lift herself out of it. Many times, when I
would visit her, she would not have enough food in the household
to feed her children and herself. Sometimes, she would have only
water and a few scraps of food that the neighbors had given her, so
Sarah and I would go to the grocery store to buy food for Lou and
the children. When we brought the food to her, Lou would quickly
gather it up (mostly nonperishables) and hide it under the bed or
where R. B. would not find it and eat it up.

The electricity for the house was almost always

disconnected, too. Lou and her children would sit in the dark house
at night, and even during the cold weather seasons, they had no
utilities.

One night, I drove in with my kids from Alabama to Florida

to visit Lou. All I could see in the way of light in R. B.’s house was
a single illuminated bulb, and a long extension cord that he had run
from his mother’s house to “his” house. It was “his house” after all,
 33

because he held the freedom and power there, and his house was
dark and oppressive. I refer to it as just “his house,” because it could
not have felt like a home to anyone living there, other than R. B.

Anyway, that night that I came to Florida, Lou and her

children were all in one room of R. B.’s old, wood-frame house [The
brick house had not been built yet.]. Standing at a hot plate, stirring
a tiny pan of food, was Lou’s oldest daughter – a pretty girl with
deep-set eyes. One of my daughters, too young to see the obvious,
blurted out the question of whether or not there was anything else to
eat. Lou’s daughter quickly answered “no” as she kept stirring the
pan.

What I most remember about R.B. was that he was really

into himself. He would buy possessions and “toys” for himself, but
he would not provide for his family. He even had a nice brick house
built not long before he killed Lou. He also had his prized yellow
Cadillac that he worshipped and parked under the carport, and of
course, he didn’t want Lou to drive it. Today, when I see a yellow
Cadillac, I feel disgusted because I am reminded of R. B.

R. B. was musically inclined, too, so he had a nice guitar

that he liked to pull out and pluck on in front of company. However,
I never saw anything of value or from a place of real love or care
that he gave Lou. I believe Lou must have come to feel what many
 34

women who bare children while in abusive marriages come to feel:

That the only good that came out of that situation was her children.

I know that Lou adored her children. In fact, she was kind
to people in general, which is why my children probably liked her
so much. She also didn’t talk that ugly way to children that some
grown folk like to talk -- you know to insult children or make one
feel less than or better than the other.

I later learned that not only was R. B. neglectful to Lou and

the children, but he was also physically abusive or worse to at least
one of the children. I was sick at the thought of what that child had
suffered; however, hearing about it gave me a better understanding
of the child’s behavior. I wish I had known at the time that the abuse
was happening, but I did not know this horrible secret until after
Lou’s murder; I also don’t know if Lou knew.

In hindsight, I think about the suffering of my cousin and

her children. I thank God that before her murder, Lou’s children
from her previous marriage left R. B.’s house. I believe that decision
saved their lives.

Lou’s death left a major void in my life. I have shed many

tears of despair and grief when remembering her. Call me psychic,
but I had told my husband that R. B. would end up murdering Lou.
 35

I’d had the death dream that very week, and that dream never failed
to come true.

My family has heard me speak of the death dream many

times. Before Lou died, I dreamt that my mother, Annie, dressed all
in white, came to me. She was in a casket, and then she rose up and
looked sadly at me; then she laid back down. My Mama had by this
time already passed on. Whenever a death was about to happen in
my family, I always dreamed about my Mama.

Another thing is that I definitely believe that if Sarah and I

had been with Lou on the scene, R. B. would have committed a
quadruple murder that night; we would be dead, too. God knows I
was trying to get to Florida, but I was having so many problems with
transportation that week; plus, my husband did not want me to go,
so he was not trying to help me get there. Right before Lou was
murdered, I pure started cursing at Bob. I was so desperate to try to
get to Lou, but Bob just would not budge.

The night of the murder, Sarah phoned. She said that Lou
was gone. My heart dropped and broke, though I knew it was bound
to happen. From what I got, Sarah had heard about the shooting on
the late news. She and her husband went to where Lou was staying,
next door to R. B.’s house. When she saw the coroner’s wagon,
Sarah went into shock.
 36

Just before Lou’s funeral, a sympathy card arrived at the

funeral home. Handwritten in the card was “May you all rest in
peace.” While my sweet cousin and her good friend were lying dead
in caskets with multiple bullet holes in their bodies, and with two
families of children traumatized after seeing the murders of their
mothers, a demon took the time to write a hate message: “May you
all rest in peace.”

It was a devastating time for the family. Lou’s children

were uprooted, with some living in another city, some living in
foster care, and some with R. B.’s family. At the murder trial that
followed, the crime reporter for the local paper headlined a news
story with “I saw daddy shoot my mama in the head.”23

Like I said, I foresaw Lou’s death. I also had intuition about

her being in danger before the dream. I believe she had gotten fed
up with R. B.’s abuse and neglect and therefore, she had filed for
divorce, custody of the children, child support, the house and one of
his cars. Before she filed for the divorce, Lou began to go against
his orders, and she started sneaking out to attend church. Then, she
sneaked out of the house to go find a job, which was absolutely
against R. B.’s orders. Lou was blessed to get employment with an
attorney, and she seemed to be finding her way to freedom.

23 Exact wording is questionable, but close. Article could not be located.

 37

The power of God, his farsightedness, and his ways amaze

me. I believe it was God’s will that Lou and her children be set free
in spite of her fate. Because of her relationship with the lawyer who
hired her, Lou was able to get divorced from R. B. I also think she
met that lawyer at the church she began to attend against R. B.’s
orders. Peace and freedom had to have been Lou’s prayer; it sure
was my prayer for her. It also had to be God’s will that she know
some freedom in this life before her death.

In the divorce decree, Lou was granted everything she asked

for: the divorce, the new brick home R. B. had built, R. B.’s car that
he worshipped (that big yellow Cadillac), and child support.

God could have let Lou die in bondage to R. B., but he

didn’t. Lou won her case on a Wednesday (I believe it was), and a
week or so later, she was dead. [That was September 20, 1978.]
 39

CHAPTER 6: MY MAMA

People swear that I am the spitting image of my Mama. I look at

pictures of her and I definitely see myself in her face, in her piercing
eyes, and even in her skinny legs.

My mother’s name was Annie Lee. The family called her

“Sister.” Sister was a mighty rock, one of those pillars of strength,
and the most unique and generous person I ever knew. She was born
in 1925 and she died June of 1972; she was only 46 years old.

My mother died of a massive coronary at Bay Memorial

Hospital in Bay County, Florida. The day she died is scratched in
my heart and head. I get sad and then mad when I think about that
day. I was at the hospital with her when suddenly she began seizing,
and I could tell she could not breathe. Seeing that my mother was
in distress, I ran to the nurses’ station and shouted to the nurse to
please come see about my mama.

The nurse, sitting at the desk and sipping on her soda, told
me that she would be there when she got through with her drink. I
remember that I lost my mind quick and began screaming, “If you
don’t get off your ass and come see about my mama, I will kill you,
woman!” I then grabbed for the nurse who suddenly jumped up and
ran to my mother’s room; however, it was too late. My mother was
gone, her eyes open and her gaze fixed. I collapsed on the floor.
 40

Mama’s Funeral
I have never seen more flowers at anyone’s funeral than I
saw at Mama’s funeral. I also never saw so many white people in
the same room with so many black people as I saw that day at Old
Mt. Moriah (not the new one) in Bay County. I have some photos
of my Mama lying in state, but I don’t really look at them.

Mama’s Daughters
My mother had three daughters: Earline, who died at the
age of three, I was told, from pneumonia; me, Johnnie Mae; and my
baby sister, Gatery, who my mother and stepfather, Mr. Charley,
adopted when Gatery was just a week old.

I remember that when I was born, Big Mama took it upon

herself to go against my mama’s wishes and had the nurse to record
my name as “Carla” on my first birth certificate. When Mama found
out, she had a duck fit. As soon as she left the hospital, she went to
work on changing my name to “Johnnie Mae.” I don’t know why
Mama wanted to name me Johnnie Mae, but she had to have had a
good reason.

Gatery / Gate
It is interesting that family called my mother “Sister” and
Gatery, from the time she could talk, has always called me “Sister.”
 41

I have spent the last several years trying to help Gatery find
her birth mother. Gatery’s oldest daughter, Andrena (Miss “Rabi”),
has helped a lot with this challenge. We have found out bits and
pieces of information over the years about Gatery’s birth mother.
However, I believe that the missing part of her life, if found, could
help Gatery understand so much about herself. Not knowing has
been a source of great pain for her and a source of never-ending
questions, I believe. Who does not want to know who birthed them?
Also, finding her mother would no doubt help Gatery find her
biological father.

Regardless [of the circumstances of her birth], Gatery was

loved and is loved; my mother and step-father loved and adored her,
and I do, too. Gate was a pretty little girl who did some funny things.
I especially remember how she would repeat little comments she had
heard our mother say, and she would come across as sounding like
a little “Annie Lee.”

One time that I especially remember is when I took Gatery

with me to the corner store. Everyone in the neighborhood knew
the owner, as we lived in a very closely-knit neighborhood in Bay
County. Gatery had heard our Momma talking about the expensive
prices that the storeowner set in the store, so obviously Momma’s
comments were stuck in her mind when we went in the store that
day. As soon as she went in the store, Gatery walked up to the owner
and said, “Mr. H., my Momma said you should be ashamed of
 42

selling those high-ass watermelons. “Now you know ain’t nobody

gone buy those high-ass watermelons.” I thought I was going to die.
I hurried up and got Gatery out of that store. When I went home, I
told Momma what Gatery had said, and mama said, “Well, they are
high-ass watermelons.” I still laugh about that all the time.
Everybody who heard about it, which was most of the
neighborhood, laughed.

Today, Gatery is a nursing professional. Old people just

love her, probably because she is very kindhearted toward them. I
was so glad when she and her children came to live in Troy. Gatery
has three kids now: two daughters (Andrena and Monique), and a
son (Charles). I love them, and it is good to have my sister and her
kids close by.

Annie Lee Didn’t Play

For as far back as I can remember, even when she was
unmarried and drinking too much, my Momma was three things: (1)
She was smart; (2) she was a dependable, hard worker; and (3) she
loved her family, especially the children in the family. I know
without a doubt that my Mama loved my sister and me and wanted
us to have what we needed in order to live and be independent in
life. She didn’t want us having to rely on strangers or hateful folk
for anything, which is probably why she made many of the decisions
she did. I also think that because she wanted to be a good mother to
 43

us, Mama made up her mind to stop drinking, and she became very
involved in church.

Not all people can say that they truly have known a mother’s
love; however, I can say it with a lot of confidence. I experienced
that bond of love between a mother and child. I guess that is why I
am the way I am about my children. Nobody messes with mine.

Mama’s Hard Work

My mother worked on the Bay County Beach, cooking in
hot, busy kitchens and cleaning wealthy white people’s homes from
light to dark. She would get up early to catch her bus to work, until
she and Mr. Charley were able to afford a car. My mother taught me
the importance, too, of being an early riser and of being independent
enough to get up and do what a person needs to do to survive in life.
I didn’t wait for somebody to get me up in the mornings either.
Actually, you didn’t really want Annie Lee to have to get you up
when she had already told you what she expected. My mother was
good, but she did not play. She was tenderhearted to children, but
never weak to their devices.

Though wages were hard to come by during my childhood,

my mother and Mr. Charley both earned good money; therefore, as
a school-aged child, I wore nice clothes, I had food to eat, lived in a
nice, clean home, and was often envied, especially by other girls.
 44

My mother was also highly sought after as an employee

because she was so obsessive about her work and she was one of the
best, cleanest cooks anywhere. Her peach cobbler and banana
pudding, potato salad, and her dressing were so delicious, and
everybody would rave over her cooking. I made sure that I learned
as many of Mama’s recipes as I could. My children swear I am the
best cook, I guess because I cook like my Mama taught me.

Mama was trustworthy, too, and very responsible. I believe

people really counted on her a lot, even though she was a young
woman when she had me. Still, when a problem arose, Sister was
always the one called on. However, my mother was not always
respected, even though she always worked hard and helped people.
People tried to take advantage of her at times, and sometimes she let
them and sometimes she didn’t. However, she seemed to always
know what was going on, and she always seemed to have money
when the need came.

Mama and the KKK

Even though people tried to take advantage of my mother,
she was not the one to mess with physically. During my early
childhood, mama was generally referred to as a “drunk,” and though
I was not exactly afraid of her, I tried to keep my distance from her
when she was drinking. She never tried to hurt me, not even when
she was drunk out of her head. However, a few people met the wrath
of a drunk Annie Lee.
 45

I remember an incident that involved Mr. M., a rich old or

not so old (as in age) white man who owned the next farm on
Highway 431, heading south, in Russell County, Alabama. Mr. M.
came to our house and kicked Papa one day because Papa had not
paid him some money owed to Mr. M.’s store. Mama saw the kick
and without thinking, attacked Mr. M. right there in the front yard.
After that, it was rumored that the Ku Klux Klan was going to kill
mama, so Uncle Limb’s girlfriend, Miss Maddie, to Alabama and
took Mama to Bay County, Florida, to live with them.

A Pattern
This move to Bay County marked a new life of respect and
prosperity for Mama and for me. I continued living with Big Ma at
the Big House for a while after Mama left, but Mama would often
send Lou, Sarah and me nice things in the mail. Finally, the day
came when Mama made me move to Florida with her and her new
husband, Mr. Charley. That day that I left, I cried my heart to pieces,
not because I did not want to go to Florida or be with Mama, but
because I was leaving behind my Lou, Sarah and Big Ma.
In hindsight, I see that a pattern was started early in my life.
That pattern was that I would experience heartache, a sad feeling of
loss, maybe depression, whenever I was separated from anybody I
loved.
 46

CHAPTER 7: ME, JOHNNIE MAE

I have a lot of memories of Russell County, Alabama, though as I

said, I left there when I was just nine years old. Some of the
memories are pleasant and some of them are not so pleasant.
However, whose life is 100% pleasant and whose childhood is 100%
child-like?

~ My Memories ~
Memory of the School Fight
After witnessing Aunt Princess’s death, my next most
memorable event in Russell County was my experience in first
grade. My first grade teacher was horribly mean. A particular
incident stands out in my mind. We children at the school had to go
to an outhouse when we needed to use the bathroom. One day I
asked my teacher several times if I could go to the bathroom;
however, she refused to let me go. Then, she sent me to the
chalkboard to solve a math problem. Well, I crossed my legs and
shifted my body, trying to control my bladder, but I could not hold
my urine any longer. Besides the embarrassment of wetting my
pants in front of everyone, the teacher whipped me with three
switches and left welts and scratches all over my legs and back.

When my mother discovered this atrocity, she did not say a

word to me about it. She just waited until there was a Parent Teacher
 47

Association meeting at Glenview High School. At the meeting, my

mother met my teacher, and it was not a pretty sight. Mama charged
at the teacher like a ram charges and she whipped that woman in
front of everyone at the PTA meeting. People talked a while about
that event. I never got another whipping at school.

Now that I have my own children, I realize that a mother’s

rage against someone who bothers her children can be too much to
hold back. It can takes over a mother’s entire body and tell her who
to challenge, when to challenge them and how to challenge them. I
will say that sometimes violence seems necessary to get some
people’s attention and to get some folks to quit slamming doors on
you, throwing their elbows at you, and stepping on the toes of other
folk, especially when the other folks are helpless children, sick
people and old people.

The bottom line is I can’t stand bullies. I never could stand

them, so I would fight them, usually with my words and sometimes
with my fists. I encourage other people not to be bullied either. I
probably got that attitude from my Mama.

I think this is a good place for me to repent for one fight that
I had. I regret that I fought in the church house, but my child was
targeted by a grown woman who didn’t like me; so please forgive
me, Lord.
Memory of a Shooting
 48

Another clear memory is of when my Mama moved out of

Big Ma’s house and down the road into a small shack. Very late
one night Mama came screaming and banging at the door of Big
Ma’s house. In a frenzy, she announced that she had shot Doc, her
boyfriend. Apparently Doc had tried to crawl through a window and
into her house. Mama had panicked and shot him with a rifle. We
learned later that one of his arms had to be amputated because of the
shooting.

Doc never forgave Mama for shooting him and causing his
arm to have to be cut off. As revenge, Doc poisoned some whisky
that Mama drank. He did not succeed in killing her, but he came
very close. I recall the horrible scene of seeing Mama suffering as
she did. She writhed in pain, screaming for “Water! Water!
Water!” as family members rushed to and from the well to bring
buckets of water to her. Mama consumed what seemed like gallons
of water that night.

Finally, Mama started throwing up a black-colored

substance. Then, and I do not exaggerate, she began throwing up
what looked like black bugs about the size of little grasshoppers. It
was terrifying to me to see that, something so disgusting and strange
happening to my own Mama. I was so afraid that my Mama was
going to die that night, but it was not her time though.

Memory of Misplaced Motives

 49

I really enjoyed high school. I was voted Miss Radio Guild

Society before I graduated, and I met several lifelong friends at
school. I probably had some enemies, too, but I didn’t care.

In 1960, I graduated from Rosenwald High School in Bay

County (Panama City), Florida. I think Rosenwald eventually
became a middle school. After graduating high school, I enrolled
at Florida A. & M. University (FAMU as it is popularly known) in
Tallahassee. I was glad to leave home and go to college in
Tallahassee. My motivation for leaving home was more about
getting away from my mother and stepfather’s house than it was
about getting a college education.

Even though my stepfather was a good provider, I never

really liked being around him. I always felt as if there was a silent
war going on between him and me. I think I developed a dislike for
him because I believed he never liked me. I think he just tolerated
me, because he had to in order to satisfy my mother who I believe
he cherished. Let me clarify now that Mr. Charley never not once
bothered me. However, I always had an uneasy feeling when I was
around him.

I was excited to go to college and live in the dorm and for

the first time in my life make my own decisions. I now know that
leaving home at such a young age was not the wisest decision for
 50

me. I was not settled enough or focused on the right goals, and my
motives for going away to college were not so great.

Remembering FAMU and Those Rattlers

FAMU was an exciting campus and I fell right in tune with
many of the activities at FAMU. I loved the sororities and
fraternities. I loved playing intramural sports. I loved the band and
football activities. I loved the entire FAMU “Rattler” experience.
However, I was also the product of a strict upbringing with strong
values. Therefore, I was always afraid to take too many risks though
I was also a fun-loving person who enjoyed socializing with my
peers. Even though I had strong values, I was social and popular
enough to gain a nickname on campus; I became the “Panama City
Flame,” but not because I was “hot in the tail” fast by anyone’s
standard. I was just a little feisty and bold. I never met a “stranger,”
and I could strike up a conversation with most anyone.

I remember a particular dorm mother at FAMU. She was

very watchful and quite strict all the time. She watched us girls
relentlessly. She also required that we come in at a decent hour,
which to us as college students too early, and in fact the very hour
when it seemed that the parties were really cranking up and the fun
was really getting started. I remember all of the tactics that my dorm
friends and I pulled to try to fool the dorm mother into thinking we
were keeping to the curfew when we really were not.
 51

Once, when one of my friend girls was late coming in, I

threw a roll of toilet paper past the dorm mother’s desk at the front
of the building. That was my way of distracting her so that my friend
could sign in quickly and hurry up to her room. It worked, but
barely.

As a high school student, I learned some tricks to try to

outsmart my own mother and make her think I was keeping to my
curfew, when really I wasn’t. Once, when my mother was asleep, I
set her clock back an hour before I left to go out with my friends. I
thought that she might wake up, see the time and assume that I had
another hour before I was to be in. My plan was then to sneak in the
house an hour late and behave as if I was being obedient. However,
my mama was a fox through and through. She always seemed to
know what I was up to. I never was able to sucker her. When I
came in that night, mama was waiting for me in the living room with
the clock in her hand. Let’s just say that I was punished in a way I
never forgot, and I stopped trying to fool Annie Lee.

FAMU was a time of fond memories for me, and without

question, the time I spent at FAMU marked the transition period
between my teen years and my early adulthood. I always was able
to make friends easily because I have never been afraid to talk to
anyone. I made fast friends with my roommates at FAMU; In fact,
I will always remember my great friend and roommate from FAMU,
Novella, as well as several others. I particularly remember Novella
 52

was very athletic, as I was at that time. Our dorm, Diamond Hall,
won the 1961-1962 FAMU Volleyball Trophy and Outstanding
Players recognition24. She eventually became a physical education
teacher. She and I still talk on the phone from time to time, and my
family went to visit with her family some years ago.

In Memory of a FAMU Legend

At FAMU, I recall taking classes with several popular
individuals on the campus. One such person was FAMU’s star track
and football player “Bullet Bob” Hayes. Bob Hayes was one of the
most outstanding athletes of our time, and he was once considered
the fastest human in the world. How I became acquainted with him
is no coincidence. Hayes was in the same class as I was. I was
always a good typist and I always loved to write, so I was glad to
help him with his typing and writing assignments. Hayes, however,
was better at math than I was, so he helped me with my math
assignments. Hayes went on to win gold medals at the Olympics
and he broke world records in track; he was very successful. I am
very sad to learn of his passing.25

As I reminisce on FAMU, I am proud to say that I was a

“Rattler” in my heart. However, I regret that I did not pledge a
sorority. I regret further that I did not study a little harder at FAMU.

24
Dean, Joyce, Ed. FAMU Women’s Intramural News; Tallahassee, AL; Vol. I, Issue I, May 28, 1962.
25
See http://www.profootballhof.com /hof/member.as px?PLAYER_ID=276); Bob Hayes
died in September of 2002.
 53

I really regret that I have never returned to visit FAMU or to take

my children there, though I talk a lot about the campus and people.

Memory of My Move North

After completing two years at FAMU, I was on shaky
academic ground. I realized that I was not ready for college, so I
quit school and took a job at Rand McNally book factory in
Hammond, Indiana. I lived with Uncle Roger’s family while I
worked there. When I got to Indiana, Uncle Roger took me to fill
out the application at Rand McNally. After two months, I left that
job and I left Uncle Roger’s house, too. For one, I did not like the
cold northern weather, and two, I did not like living in Uncle
Roger’s house. He and Aunt Evelyn were nice, but I was just not
used to that northern environment, and I did not think I ever would
get used to it.

People’s titles didn’t matter to me the way they did to the

people I encountered in Indiana. It was expensive living there, too.
Spending money like it grew on trees was not how I was raised.
While I was blessed in many ways, I was not spoiled. I knew what
it meant to do without some “wants” and to be grateful to have
“needs” met. I just felt so out of place and homesick in Indiana; so,
I came home.
Memory of Coming Home (Back South)
After migrating back to Bay County, Florida, for a while, I
decided to go to Troy, Alabama; I was not quite twenty years old
 54

then. I was absolutely miserable in Florida, mainly because

everywhere I went, I had so many restrictions that it was hard for
me to enjoy myself. Also, because my mother worked so much, I
was always at home doing chores.

Another thing bothered me, too. My mother was too

meticulous about her house. Everything had to be spotless and
wrinkle free. So I washed clothes by hand constantly. Washing bed
sheets on a scrub board was already hard work. Washing bed sheets
on a scrub board and for Annie Lee was doubly hard work and near
impossible work at times. Ironing sheets was also a requirement,
not an option.

Annie Lee’s standards of living were strict to the point of

knit-picky26 at times, and she did not care how long it took me as
long as I did what she told me to do and to her standard. Also, I
would be at home a lot with Mr. Charley. I felt like I was going up
the walls living with a stepfather I believed disliked me, and living
with a mama who kept me occupied with hard, boring tasks.

26
Obsessively compulsively critical, demanding, fussy, annoying
 57

CHAPTER 8: MY FAMILY IN TROY

I never mentioned my daddy much and I didn’t know much about

him until he and I both were much older. My not mentioning him is
a clue about our relationship.

After my brief, unbearable return to Bay County, Florida,

after withdrawing from FAMU, and after leaving Indiana, I came to
Troy, Alabama; I was just 19 years old. I decided to come to Troy
because I knew that is where my father, Emmett, lived. I had not
seen him in 14 years, and I figured it was past time.

Emmett
My daddy, Emmett, was a unique person and a ladies’ man.
I am sure that is a main reason his marriage to Mama did not work.
I am not sure how the two met, but I can see how at first, a woman
would like my father. He was a very strong man with muscles, a
neat build, a handsome face and a witty personality. He worked
hard, too, mostly outside, and he made good money for that time.
Women seemed to be drawn to him, and he to them.

However, my daddy talked too loud. Even though he talked

loud enough for the neighborhood to hear him, it was still very hard
 58

to understand what he said because his Ebonics27 was so thick. As

he grew older, he had some missing teeth, which didn’t help matters
either.

My Brothers
Getting to know my daddy helped me to get to know other
members of my family. In Troy, I became personally acquainted
with two of my brothers: Andrew and Henry. Andrew and I became
quite close, and he used to come visit me often. (I think he is in
Maryland now.) Not long after I met Henry, he left for the military
and got married. I also became closely acquainted with my cousin,
Edward, when I came to Troy. Besides Andrew and Henry, I gained
two younger brothers: Emmett, Jr. and Lamar.

My Step-Mother
In addition to getting to know my brothers, I developed a
close relationship with my step-mother, Kat. She was not that much
older than I was, so we had a lot in common. Also, she was really
kind to me. Kat was a petite woman with a very down-to-earth
personality and good sense of humor. She and I are friends even to
this day. Eventually, she and my daddy separated, and she
remarried. All these years later, I still go talk to her or she will stop
by to talk to me. I love Kat; she will always be family to me.

27John Rickford (n. d.) explains that Ebonics is a term created in 1973 to identify
aspects of “black speech,” particularly related to word pronunciations that do
not follow Standard American English pronunciation norms.
 59

A Future in Troy
As stated, I had never really been around my father while I
was growing up, and I wanted to get to know him and also get
away from my perceived place of bondage. It just so happened
that not only was Troy where I would find and develop a
relationship with my father, but Troy was also where I would meet
the man who would become my one and only husband, and the
father of my children.
 61

CHAPTER 9: MY ADULT LIFE

Bobby Jacob
In the summer of 1963, I met Bobby Jacob Money, known
as “Bob” and “Fat” to family and friends; I sometimes call him B. J.
I am glad I met Bob. I think that it was a blessing in my life, though
marriage is not easy.

I admit that if my life had not felt so empty, I probably

would never have left Florida, come to Troy, or married so young.
I also made a serious error -- I did not get to know my in-laws before
I married Bob, so getting along with them caused me a lot of stress.
My husband had seven sisters and four brothers, for a total of twelve
siblings. There were so many people living in his family’s very
small house, that I don’t know how they could stand it or each other.
Also in Troy in the 1960s, black people had a difficult time earning
money, so the financial struggles of the family were obvious, at least
to me.

I had a chance to see up close who each person in Bob’s

family was as I ended up living right next door to the house home 28
for a while. Physically, I was living too close to the tensions and

28 A colloquial (possibly regional) expression for the home where many members
of a family have grown up in; it may be the first home in which a family resided
or that a family owned in a particular area, thus it has great sentimental value and
attachment value for many heirs.
 62

disagreements that happened on the family property and among

family members. Some of my husband’s siblings, I got along well
with; a few, I did not. His two younger sisters, however, became
especially dear to me, as I pretty much watched them grow up. They
were young girls -- one of them was maybe seven years old -- when
I met and married Bob.

Had I taken my time before getting married, I may have left

Troy and never looked back. However, I am grateful for my
marriage and my husband. Out of my marriage came my four
children – a boy and three girls. I also would not have my
grandchildren, if I had not come to Troy and met and married Bob.
So I have more to be grateful for than to regret.

I am first to admit that my husband is a decent man. He is a

hard worker and provides for the family. He was certainly very
committed to his siblings and his parents. Actually, Bob’s
commitment to his siblings was a source of some of our early marital
issues. I believed some of his siblings did not like me and rejected
my children. Bob also spent too much time across town at the house
home, and I spent a lot of time alone with our kids.

The Encounter
The summer of ‘63 when I met Bob was a difficult time. I
had lost my direction in life and I had also ended a relationship with
another guy that I cared very much for, but who chose another
 63

woman to marry. I was heartbroken, maybe for the very first time
in my life. Generally, my confidence level had always been high,
so I usually believed that I could have whatever or whoever I
wanted. However, that was not the case this time, and I felt so
rejected. Maybe that was also part of the reason I had such a fit to
leave Panama City -- to get a new start.

Anyway, how I met Bob is a story I have told many times.

I met Bob as I tagged along with my daddy’s wife, Kat; she and I
ended up at the post office in Troy one day. As we walked toward
the steps, I saw a tall, handsome young man with beautiful teeth and
skin. I did not hesitate to walk over to him and introduce myself.
He told me his name and asked mine. I told him my name and asked
him who he was waiting for. He let me know that he was waiting
for his lady friend who went into the post office. That, however,
didn’t deter me from continuing our conversation.

From talking to Bob, I learned that he was a soldier about to

be stationed in Killeen, Texas. Also, by the time the lady came out
of the post office, Bob and I had already made plans to see one
another again. That first meeting at the Post Office was in May of
1963. By September 6, Bob and I were married in a simple, but
beautiful wedding ceremony at my home church in Bay County.

My mama and Mr. Charley lived two doors down from the
 64

church where Bob and I got married. Mama did everything in her
power to give us a beautiful wedding, and it was beautiful. Our
colors were mint green and ivory, and several of my Florida friends
were there.

None of Bob’s family came to the wedding. However,

Bob’s good friend, George, serves as the best man. George was the
only person at the wedding that Bob knew personally, though
everybody there was very nice to him. Bob and George also stayed
with Ms. Maddie before the wedding, and Bob said that she treated
him and George like family from way back.

I know that my mama adored Bob from the first time they
met, and she was very glad when we got married. She liked Bob
because he was quiet and a bit laid back in his manners. He was
also very respectful toward Mama and Mr. Charley. I am glad that
I didn’t tell Mama that Bob had said he and I were moving to
Bessemer to live in a house that one of his uncle’s had left him,
because that never happened. Mama would have been too mad at
Bob, and he would not have had peace, is she thought he’d lied.

My First Child
The following March 13, on a Friday, at the hospital in
Panama City, Florida, I birthed my first child, Bobby. I was a very
proud mama. My son was beautiful and weighed over 7 pounds,
though he was born with a hernia that required him to have surgery
 65

not long after his birth. The surgery went just fine and Toby began
to thrive, growing into a busy little boy who loved to flip through
encyclopedias, catch honey bees in jars, poke snakes with sticks,
burn leaves and trash (without permission) and generally do what
little boys do -- plunder. He also loved to steal his granddaddy’s
tobacco and empty out his aunts’ perfume bottles.

My Brief Life as a Military Wife

Not long after Toby was born, Bob and I moved to Killeen,
Texas, where Bob was stationed. I hated living in Killeen. It was
extremely hot there in the summer (even hotter than in Alabama in
summer). You really could fry an egg on the sidewalk in Killeen, in
summer. Plus Bob, Toby and I lived in a little mobile home in a
trailer park. That little trailer was like an oven; it was so hot and
cramped, but I tried to keep it neat and homey.

While I made friends easily with the other military wives, I

did have a rough encounter with one woman living in the trailer
park. She came to the door of our place one day and knocked. When
I asked her what she wanted, she made the mistake of saying “none
of your business. Where’s Bobby?” I assumed that she was there
to try to move in on my husband. Needless to say, I did not take
kindly to her, so she and I ended up in a bit of a “tussle,” I guess you
could call it. Bob broke it up, and that woman never knocked on our
door again.
 66

I was so glad when Bob finished his duty in Texas.

However, where we ended up next was not much better.

To Mississippi
After we left Texas, Bob and I, with Toby who was just a
toddler, moved to southern Mississippi to stay with one of his
sisters, her husband, and their three children. By then, Bob had
served out his tour of duty and had gotten hired at the Shipyard in
Mississippi. I appreciated that Bob’s sister and brother-in law let us
stay with them until we could find our own place. Here, however, I
remember what the wise Ben Franklin wrote about fish and house
guests starting to smell bad in three days29. We stayed with Bob’s
sister and husband longer than three days, because we were planning
to have a house built in the area.

While in Mississippi, I constantly felt stressed. I was glad

when we left even though we left there without seeing our house
built. However, where we ended up next was not my idea of a better
living situation.

Back to Troy
After we left Mississippi, we returned to Troy. We at first
moved into a house that Bob’s daddy Joseph owned. That was the
house right next door and too close to Bob’s parent’s house.

29
From Benjamin Franklin’s Poor Richard’s Almanac (1736)
 67

When we came to live permanently in Troy, several of

Bob’s siblings were still living at the house home there. One of his
sisters in particular made it clear from the get-go that she did not
like or welcome us. I believe she had a dislike for my dark brown
skin. She also did not show any respect to Bob as her brother,
though he tried to help his family whenever he could. This particular
sister was, for lack of a better term, a “hellion”30 who constantly
cleaned and constantly complained about cleaning.

Once when Bob went to visit at his parent’s house, this

particular sister locked the screened porch so that he could not get
in and she refused to unlock it, despite Bob’s mama telling her to
open it. Bob became so angry that he ended up breaking down the
screened door. It was a very stressful situation and even better that
she ran.
< Ends of the purple journal notes>
§

“A person (especially a child) who behaves badly,” according to Merriam-

30

Webster online dictionary.

 PART II: HER STORY CONTINUED31

31
SECTION NOTE: In Part II: HER STORY CONTINUED, I conclude
Momma’s biography in my own words, filling in details that either I recall or that
I collected from others with firsthand knowledge based on their personal
observations or interactions with her, or based on conversations with her.
 69

PART II: HER STORY CONTINUED

Half asleep. That is often how I felt. Still, that did not discourage
my mother, Johnnie Mae, from sitting on the edge of my bed and
talking up late-night storms or early-morning sunrays.

When she really wanted me to stay awake, Momma would

say, "Ah come on, girl, get up and let's talk." Often that comment
worked, but just as often, I would give Momma a sleepy chuckle
and ask her if we could please talk in the morning. I regret not tuning
in to her every time she requested that I listen.

One of my sisters, Faye, remarked that it is almost as if

Momma began reverting to “a teenage spirit,” the way she began to
behave the last year of her life. She became much more talkative
that last year, especially about her past. I would also hear her on the
phone late many nights conversing with my sisters or with my
brother, just talking and laughing away. Actually, I felt quite
relieved to hear her on the phone late at night because then I could
settle my nerves, knowing that she was communicating with people
who treasured her as much as I did and who would keep her awake
and, in a sense, monitor her while I slept.

During those times when Momma was preoccupied with her

phone conversations, I would think to myself, “Okay, this is my
 70

chance to rest for a little bit, because the day will probably come
when I will wish for a moment like this, when Momma seems okay
and nothing dramatic is happening.”

I guess I was foreseeing the coming drama and dreaded days

my family would face in the too near future. I guess her mortality
was becoming more evident to me.

§
 71

CHAPTER 10: MOMMA AND HER DADDY

Momma’s daddy, Emmett, died in 2001 at the hospital in Troy, from

complications associated with Alzheimer’s32. Granddaddy had
begun wandering off from home and showing signs of dementia
some years before his passing. Once, when he was supposed to be
on a bus headed to a relative’s funeral in Florida, he was
unexpectedly returned home by a kind stranger who reported finding
Granddaddy wandering barefoot and confused on the side of the
highway, carrying an empty suitcase. Apparently he had not even
ridden the bus out of Pike County. That was a strong first sign that
something was very wrong with Granddaddy.

Before that major sign, however, there were other problems

with which Momma had to contend. For example, people would
come into Granddaddy’s house and take all of his groceries as soon
as Momma, Faye, LaShea, or I would bring him back from the
grocery store. The next day when Momma or any of us would go to
visit him, his fridge and cabinets would be empty and he would not
remember what happened to his food. An attentive neighbor finally
pulled Momma aside one day and revealed that certain individuals
familiar to the neighborhood, and one individual in particular who
Momma knew, would come take the groceries out of the house as

32 A disease that presents memory loss and motor function, usually in people over
the age of 65; a form of dementia with no known cure. (http://www.alz.org
/alzheimers_disease_what_is_alzheimers.asp)
 72

soon as he saw one of us drive off. Momma, therefore, had to make

some other arrangements to make sure Granddaddy had food. She
also warned the thief and his accomplices to quit stealing her
daddy’s groceries or “get ready to go to jail.”

A Quick Story about Shopping with Granddaddy: Faye reminded me

of the time she took Granddaddy shopping. While in the store, he
kept reminding Faye that he needed to get his tobacco. Faye said,
“Okay, Granddaddy; do you need some more tooth paste, too?” She
said that Granddaddy suddenly looked at her and stretched his eyes
extra wide. Then he opened his mouth extra wide and with a jerky
motion pointed to his toothless gums and said, “Tooth paste for
what, guh33?” Faye said that all she could do was laugh and say,
“Oh Lord, Granddaddy!” She said Granddaddy just laughed, too;
he obviously knew he was funny. Granddaddy’s humor was so
honest and spontaneous. I think that even though she did not grow
up with Granddaddy, Momma was born with much of his humor in
her DNA.

~ Once Again Reconnected ~

Fortunately, before Granddaddy’s physical condition
declined severely, Momma had reconnected with him. Once again,
after not communicating with him for a long time, Momma set out
to find her daddy. Once again, I am sure she had to cope with his

33
girl
 73

pattern of leaving her, especially when he was with a new woman

or when he disliked some opinion Momma expressed, or for just
whatever reason acceptable to him. Though he lived in the same
town as Momma, she would often go months, sometimes a year, and
sometimes even longer without seeing her father. That is not to say
Momma ever stopped caring or inquiring about his well-being; she
regularly talked to people she knew who also knew him, and they
would keep her informed about his condition. Not seeing him upset
her though and she would mention it sometimes.

Momma’s Blues
Occasionally Momma showed signs of the blues34. I think
her sadness had much to do with her daddy not generally being
present in her life, and especially when her mother’s death left such
an empty hole in her heart. Nearly every Mother’s Day, Momma
would lock herself in the bathroom. Obviously she was crying,
because when she would finally come out, her eyes would be red,
and they would be puffy underneath.

Momma discretely grieved the loss of her mother; she did

not sit among others and openly sob. Undoubtedly her mourning
was complicated and intensified because she also did not have a
close or comforting relationship with her father. One time, Momma
made a very telling statement. She said, “I don’t really like Mother’s

34 sadness; mild depression; a somberness in mood

 74

Day.” I asked her why, and without looking directly at me or

showing any real emotion, she said, “Because I don’t have a
mother.” It shocked me to hear Momma say that, because I know
how much she valued Annie Lee; you don’t talk about a person as
much as Momma talked about her mother and not treasure that
person. All I could think to say right then was, “Yes you do have a
momma; she is just in heaven, but you will always have a mother.”
Her simple reply sounded almost hopeless: “Yeah, right,” she said,
and then nothing more.

Momma Rescues Granddaddy

I estimate that it was in 1995 when a person who knew
Granddaddy informed Momma that he was not in good health and
was having some personal issues that had dragged him way down
and set him way back. With only his last known address in mind,
Momma got in her car, daughters in tow, determined to locate her
father. When we arrived at his last known residence, Granddaddy
no longer lived there. Apparently he had either given up his home
or been put out of it.

After questioning others in town to find out where he could

be, Momma located Granddaddy. She found him barely existing in
a dilapidated shack near the West End railroad tracks. By then,
Granddaddy had split from his last wife who was quite a bit younger
than he was. Momma would not let us go in to the shack with her;
 75

however, when she came out, she was just shaking her head in
disgust and frustration.

Momma rescued Granddaddy’s life that day, and apparently

he knew this. He was seriously ill and in need of medical attention;
he also had no electricity or edible food. She therefore got him out
of that shack and to a doctor. Momma also talked with Uncle Henry
about Granddaddy’s future.

Without Momma’s intervention, Granddaddy would have

perished. Finally after years of hard living, he awakened to his
daughter’s voice and wisdom. He agreed to let her find decent
housing for him, and he stayed with her until suitable housing was
available.

Every time there was a reestablished relationship with her

father, Momma initiated it. She was as a child reaching out to her
father; however, she couldn’t rely on him to take care of her. The
opposite was true: Momma reached out to her daddy just in time to
take care of him, before diseases and an infested lifestyle completely
overtook him.

Tough Decisions
Interestingly or oddly, Granddaddy had dementia, yet he
always recognized Momma when she would come around him or
talk to him on the phone. He always greeted her by her name, which
 76

he pronounced fast, skipping a syllable: “John-Mae.” Usually if she

and he were in a room with others, Granddaddy would say to
someone else, but not directly to Momma, “I love that guh right
there; that’s my daughter, John-Mae.”

I estimate it was 1998 when Granddaddy began showing

serious signs of the neurological entanglement Alzheimer’s causes
in the brain. Momma herself was not in great health, so she placed
him in a local nursing facility. She just could not keep up with
Granddaddy who would wander off, even in bad weather, and
always barefoot; he seemed to hate shoes.

Granddaddy was extremely stubborn, too, and he would

sometimes act as if he physically wanted to hit Momma. One time,
on his porch, Momma reached to pull his sweater up on his shoulder;
suddenly, he frowned, clinched his fist and jerked at her. I snapped,
“Granddaddy, you better not hit my Momma!” With his peculiar
gray eyes glaring at me, he loudly and clearly replied, “I wouldn’t
‘never’ hit that guh. I’d die and go to hell first.” Momma, with eyes
like her daddy’s, sighed, shook her head, and just sat down. I
understood them both in that instance.

For a while, Granddaddy did “okay” in the nursing home,

but when he kept wandering into other patients’ rooms, the staff
moved him to the Alzheimer’s unit. Shortly before he suffered a
health downturn and went in to the hospital, Momma, my sister
 77

LaShea, and I visited him at the nursing home. The moment he saw
Momma, he began teasing her, saying something she apparently
understood; I sure didn’t. Granddaddy then made a silly face and
stuck his tongue out at Momma. She said, “Ooh, I’m gone get you
for that one, Emmett Wilson.” The two of them then took off out
the patio door. Momma was chasing Granddaddy as he giggled up
a storm, with his head thrown back and his arms waving. They made
one full lap around the courtyard and ended up back inside.
Everyone who witnessed it had a great laugh. The pair were out of
breath when they came in, but their smiles and laughter were worth
the effort they put into it. Inside, Momma hugged Granddaddy, and
Granddaddy kissed Momma’s cheek.

Today whenever I see two lively birds or two playful

butterflies whirling about each other, I see Momma and
Granddaddy, alive and jovial. Despite both of their serious health
issues, they shared a glorious moment. LaShea remarked, however,
that “both of their health declined quickly after that; I agree. I also
think, “It is better late than never that Momma had the chance to
enjoy a parent-child moment like that with her father.”

February 19, 2001

Granddaddy died the night of February 19, 2001, not two
hours after Momma and I had left the hospital. I’d stayed with him
most of that day, and he didn’t speak a word. Momma came that
evening to the hospital. After we left, a nurse phoned Uncle Henry
 78

who then phoned Momma, telling her to return to the hospital. As

soon as he saw Momma, Uncle Henry said, “he’s gone; daddy’s
gone.” Momma cried. It was sad, but no tears came to my eyes.

Homegoing
Granddaddy’s funeral service was at the local Church of
Christ behind the bank. Mr. Terry, a local baritone, sang “I’ll Fly
Away,” and lifted the Spirit. The local University Gospel choir sang
“The Lord is My Shepherd” and “When I Am Alone,” and blessed
us with their harmony. Uncle Henry thereafter preached a message
that captivated attendees, for he truly showed us “Emmett Wilson”
and “God who created ‘Emmett Wilson’.” At one point during the
service, one of Granddaddy’s younger sons became upset and left;
however, the homegoing35, including the repast, went on and was
grace-filled. Granddaddy’s obituary36 follows:

Emmett Lamar Wilson, 80, of Troy died Monday, Feb. 19, 2001 at
Edge Regional Medical Center. Services will be at 11 a.m.,
Saturday, Feb. 24 at . . . [the] Church of Christ . . . . Burial will be .
. . in Troy . . . Mr. Wilson was born Nov. 14, 1920 in Russell
County to Jim and Sarah Wilson. He was a retired concrete finisher
. . . Survivors include two daughters and [a] son-in-law . . . all of
Troy; four sons and [a] daughters-in-law . . . ; one sister . . . ; four
grandchildren . . . all of Troy; a host of nieces, nephews, other family
members and friends. Friends of the family will serve as pallbearers
and floral bearers. Visitation will be 10-11 a.m., Saturday at . . . [the]
Church.

35 Termed used instead of “funeral.”

36 Available at http://www.troymessenger.com.
 79

CHAPTER 11: ANNIE LEE AND LEGACIES

While she was alive, Grandmother Annie Lee gave her daughter,
Johnnie Mae, what can now be termed a marriage dowry37.
Grandmother Annie would probably not have called her gift to
Momma a dowry, but it was just that. Momma, a wise steward of
her gift, shared the money with her husband who used it to buy
building materials and supplies. He and his brothers then built our
family a home of rebar concrete. Aesthetically, the home may not
have looked as Momma wanted, but that home survived tornadoes
and hurricanes. It “weathered the storms” of life repeatedly, and yet
remained standing.

Annie Lee’s gift of a few thousand dollars was also enough

to finance an official title search to locate the rightful heirs to the
property on which the house still stands. Momma said that it took
maybe two years and much patience to locate the “rightful heirs” to
the property and make the purchase. Finally, Momma was able to
see her family moved out of Granddaddy Joe’s house and away from
some of the turmoil. By the time the new house was built, Momma
and Daddy had three children. Years later, their last child was born
and came to live in their own house home.

With remnants of that same dowry, Momma and Daddy

37 Inheritance a mother passes down to a daughter as a marriage gift

 80

were also able to purchase a plot of commercial property in Troy.

That property became the location of the first black-owned private
kindergarten in Troy. Though it is not clear if Grandmother Annie
Lee ever traveled to Troy, what is clear is that she helped establish
a legacy38 in Troy that derived from a gift from her heart that was
multiplied by the Lord.

Johnnie Pearl Evans

Momma always had a fondness for working with youth and
youth groups. Even as a high school student, she was president of
the youth department at her church in Florida, and she often
represented the youth of her church at various church meetings and
conventions. Therefore, her desire and efforts to see the youth of
Troy educated came as a natural progression in her life and really
should not have surprised anyone.

In the 1970s, maybe 1973 or thereabout, Momma with the

help of other devoted ladies opened a private kindergarten in
memory of a woman who had a glowing reputation for caring for
children, Mrs. Johnnie Pearl Evans. Momma came to recognize and
respect Mrs. Evans as a matriarch of the community, and as an
individual Momma often described as a very “sweet and gracious
lady.”

38 A gift left from someone in the past and that is still evident in the present
 81

Mrs. Evans provided childcare for my brother, Bobby,

when Momma first started living in Troy, and while Momma
worked prior to opening the kindergarten. Had it not been for Mrs.
Evans, Momma would not have been able to accept her first Troy
job, because she needed someone she could trust to keep her baby.

When Momma’s job at the shirt factory ended, she worked

for a while as a daycare teacher. She then decided to open the
kindergarten in Troy. Her goals was to perpetuate Mrs. Evans’
legacy of kindness toward children. Therefore, it made sense that
Momma would open a kindergarten and named it after Mrs. Evans.

Many of Troy’s outstanding black youth are alumni of the

Johnnie Pearl Evans Memorial Kindergarten. Whether or not they
remember, in the 1970s, Momma said that her students were Troy’s
first black youth to play at one of the city’s unlawfully segregated
public parks. Also, her students learned about famous writers and
historical figures of various races, in addition to receiving their
introduction to the 3 basic R’s -- reading, writing and arithmetic. In
other words, these children received a first-rate, culturally-inclusive
and diverse real-world education.

As the school owner and teacher, Momma went the extra

mile. She organized and presented kindergarten graduations for her
students prior to their going to first grade. For the programs, she
had colorful robes made for the graduates to wear and she often
 82

reserved the local “Rock Building” for the popular graduations.

Usually the graduation programs were so much more than
graduations; they were also sources of community entertainment
and variety as she included in the programs oratorical presentations,
fashion shows, and local talent showcases. Many people in the town
enjoyed attending these cultural events.

Students graduating from the kindergarten were generally

well-prepared for grade school and tended to progress and behave
very well. They were a diverse group of young people who grew to
become healthcare professionals, skilled laborers, trade specialists,
television personalities, professional educators, legal professionals,
entrepreneurs, community activists, church leaders, military leaders,
etc.

Before embarking on her last profession, Momma worked

other jobs that prepared her for her future work. For a while, she
worked as a public school secretary which allowed her to meet many
people in the community and improve her skill set. Much later, she
began working with the Summer Food Program for Children, then
sponsored by the City of Troy. Momma worked for that seasonal
program for 20 years or more, and she eventually became the
program coordinator39. Then one long, hot summer after most of
the program work was done, Momma resigned.

39 She started as a site worker.

 83

Troy’s mayor at that time began to create what Momma

considered a harassing work situation for her (and others related to
her) who also worked the program. While that mayor implied he
was concerned that nepotism40 claims might arise, I believe he was
just mad because some in our family did not support his re-election.
Surely staffing those low-paying jobs in the nasty summer heat did
not really upset that mayor’s moral compass. Surely that mayor
would never hire or help his friends, church members, etc., get jobs
either. To end the madness, Momma quietly resigned.

Momma’s Growing Reputation as a Leader

Momma developed an undeniable reputation in the
community as one with strong leadership abilities, especially the
ability to speak with confidence in public, regardless of the issue at
hand or the presence of opposition. As indicated, her confident
speech lead to the integration of one of Troy’s public parks. Her
confident speech helped cool temperaments and prevent at least one
race riot at a local school. Her confident speech helped change local
government. Her confident speech helped her function as a policy
council member for the local Head Start/OCAP program. Her
confident speech helped to improve the immediate and long-term

40
Nepotism is showing favoritism in hiring members of specific families. She did
not hire family members; they went through the entire hiring process. The jobs
paid so low most people did not want the headache of working them.
 84

futures of many people, especially young people, and I could go on

and on and on listing the impact of her confident speech.
Perhaps it was Momma’s ability to speak and achieve clear
results that lead her to be elected president of Troy’s Oakland
Heights Elementary School Parent-Teacher Organization (PTO), a
position in which she served faithfully for approximately seven
years. Having served with grace and effectiveness, she encouraged
new leaders to emerge. She simply did not want to become a fixture
in that position, because she never was a status quo41 promoter.

A Promise Kept
In 1979, Momma found out that she was pregnant with her
“late-in-life baby,” as she referred to her youngest and last child,
LaShea. In 1980, Momma gave birth to “Sugar,” as everyone started
calling the new baby after Daddy’s brother, John, started her
nickname. The family was very excited to have a new baby in the
house.

Momma remained a stay-at-home mom until LaShea was

three years old, in 1983. Then, Momma enrolled LaShea in pre-
school. Bored and not sure what her next step in life would be,
Momma said that God “set the ball in motion” to help her keep a
promise she had made to her mother. Thus one day, Momma was
just sitting on the sofa at home when she heard a knock at the front

41 resistant to change
 85

door. When she went to answer the door, she was surprised to see
that it was Principal Thomas. He was there specifically to offer
Momma job as an instructional aide at the local middle school. I
believe her reputation in the community sparked her hiring.

As a middle school staffer, Momma was visible and active.

She coordinated black history programs that brought to the school
well-known figures such as Civil Rights Movement icon and U. S.
Representative John Lewis, a native of Pike County, Alabama. She
also produced a literary magazine for her students after seeking
community resources to assist in the publication. Momma made it
a point, too, to stir up students during pep rallies, and challenge them
to show school spirit and respectable character through their daily
conduct.

After a few years working at the middle school, Momma

began to feel that familiar tug in her spirit to fulfill the promise she
had made to her mother about finishing college. Momma thus
decided to enroll at Troy University to complete her undergraduate
degree. At the university, she met Trio program staff who helped
her register for classes each semester and provided her the
undergirding of encouragement and resources that she needed.

Keeping her promise, Momma finally completed her college

degree Summer Quarter 1991. For four years, she had faithfully
attended classes after work. My sister, Faye, and I helped with
 86

LaShea who was in elementary school by then. Momma even

attended some classes with Faye and I who were both enrolled at
Troy University at the same time she was.

Momma may not have been a traditional student, but she

was certainly an ideal student, one who studied so hard and was so
determined to earn her degree. Certainly, some people criticized
her, saying she was too old to attend college. Others accused of her
of trying to be “uppity.” Regardless, she did not let critics stop her
from fulfilling her personal goal and her promise to her mother.

The day Momma crossed the stage to receive her college

degree, she shed tears of joy; she had worked so hard to earn the
Bachelor of Science in Human Services, with minors in Corrections
and Psychology. Years after graduating, she spoke seriously of her
college experiences at Troy, including the quarter she had former
Alabama governor and former segregationist John Patterson42 as one
of her professors. She described former Governor Patterson as
extremely knowledgeable. She said that some of the students
rebelled a bit against him when they learned of his political past as
a segregationist governor. However, she maintained a good rapport
with him and benefited greatly from his instruction.
Momma’s graduation was a proud achievement for her and
her family. Granddaddy Emmett was present at the ceremony, and

42Alabama’s 44th governor, 1959-1963; elected because he supported

segregation; taught at Troy University from the late 1970s thru the late 1980s.
 87

it meant the world to Momma to have him there. He smiled with

pride and shed a few tears with her that day. The local newspaper
also ran a brief article about her fulfilling her academic dream as a
non-traditional age college student. Moreover, as a college grad,
one of Momma’s favorite expressions became, “With my degree, I
can help put you in jail or help get you out; it’s up to you, buddy.”
Then she would smile, wink, and knowingly nod her head.

A New Position
After Momma earned her degree, her teacher’s aide position
changed to a full teaching position. Momma became the first STAR
(Success through Accepting Responsibility) Class teacher for the
city schools. As STAR Class teacher, she made great strides with
her students. After a few years in that position, she was moved to
another position. At first, she was very upset about the change, as
she loved being the STAR Class teacher and fulfilling her “calling”
to teach. However, as the Social Worker for the school system, she
excelled, and yet still found a way to teach groups of students in her
new position.

Momma’s new office was at the local Alternative Learning

Center (ALC), walking distance from her house. There, she worked
with a diverse group of students and had a tremendous impact.
While at the ALC, Momma started two volunteer groups:
Alternative Fathers and Alternative Mothers. These volunteers
engaged ALC students in socialization and character-building
 88

activities. The Alternative Fathers, for example, taught the students

to play chess, and Momma then used chess concepts to teach
students to think critically and calmly under pressure. The
Alternative Mothers hosted monthly activities geared toward
teaching self-esteem, communication tips, goal setting and critical
thinking skills. Participating students responded well to these
mentors, and the programs lasted until Momma’s retirement.

The Retirement Speech

In 2007, Momma retired from Troy City Schools after 23
years of service. Approximately a year before retiring, she learned
from doctors that she was in advanced kidney failure and would
soon have to begin dialysis. Since dialysis is notoriously taxing on
the body, the doctors encouraged Momma to retire. Therefore, the
morning of May 25, 2007, wearing a light blue suit and what she
called her “sophisticated hair,” Momma entered the
cafeteria/auditorium of Troy Elementary School for the retirement
program. As she arrived at the auditorium, she began to fellowship
with the many friends and family who came to support her.
Someone told her that she looked really nice that day. Her reply was
classic Johnnie Mae: “Thank you. Eat your heart out, darling.’”
She then chuckled and gave a little modeling twirl.
When Momma’s name was called to come forward and receive her
plaque, she moved slowly, but gracefully to the podium. Looking
at her audience confidently, she gave a speech that was short, sweet
and sassy, just like its author and presenter.
 89

CHAPTER 12: JOHNNIE MAE’S LEGACY

As stated, Johnnie Mae Wilson Money during her marriage to

Bobby Jacob Money birthed four children: Bobby T., Rebecca,
Faye and LaShea. She was a devoted mother with one inflexible
rule with her children: “Let her deal with mean grown folks.” She
did not want us trying to set grown people straight, especially in
formal, social institutions such as church and school.

Momma’s Children ~
Bobby (Toby)
As stated, Bobby (nicknamed “Toby” or “Tobo”),
Momma’s first born, arrived in 1964. Despite having hernia surgery
shortly after birth, he thrived into a healthy child. As a boy, Toby
was reliable, efficient and quite helpful to Momma. He would ride
his bike to town to pay bills and get groceries, and he kept the yards
mowed and clean. He always showed initiative.

In elementary school, Toby performed well above average;

he would finish his class work quickly and then want to play. His
teachers, especially his second grade teacher, Mrs. Hoffman, really
worked to keep him occupied. One way she did this was to let him
assist her with various chores. He likely left an indelible impression
on the minds of all of his teachers.
 90

In his pre-teen, teen and young adult years, Toby achieved

many feats. He excelled in the areas of math and science in middle
school and high school. He played varsity football and basketball.
He served as president of his high school senior class, was inducted
into the National Honor Society, and graduated in the top ten percent
of his class. In college, he pledged a black Greek fraternity, was an
honor student, and worked part-time.

Momma, realizing Toby’s potential for success, as well as

potential distractions he could face, often sat on the stairs leading to
his bedroom until he finished his homework. She also insisted that
Toby leave Troy as soon as he graduated Troy University with his
B. S. in Math, though she moped sadly when he left. Momma truly
knew best in that situation. Toby quickly gained employment as an
engineer and has been working in his field career since 1986.
Momma was very proud of his accomplishments and work ethic.

Momma and Toby were very close. They talked daily, even
after he moved. Therefore, it does not surprise me that when she
went into the hospital the last time, Toby practically moved into the
hospital, too. He brought his work with him, and that is where he
set up camp for 28 days.

Like Momma, Toby appears to never meet a stranger. He

is also confident and an effective speaker. Momma said more than
once, “God definitely has his hand on my son’s life” and “I know an
 91

angel is on my son’s shoulder.” She clearly saw his gifts, as well as

his need for prayers of protection.

Toby has worked for the same organization since 1986, and
gained promotions. He has an adult daughter, Camille, who has a
baby girl named Cayleigh. Momma certainly would have loved to
have known her first and only great grandchild.

On Momma’s funeral program, this quote from Toby appears:

“Mama, you will always be my hero. I told you this just before you
went to be with our Lord. I know you heard more than my words.
I know you heard my heart. Your son, Bobby . . .”

Rebecca (Becky)
In the summer of 1968, Momma discovered that she was
pregnant with me, her second child. I was born in March of 1969.
I weighed 9 lbs. 6 oz. at birth, and apparently my arrival stirred a
few passions.

First according to Momma, I was born in a Troy that was

still segregated in some of its facilities despite the outlawing of Jim
Crowism43. I was also born at the Beard Hospital44, that to my
understanding was the only hospital in Troy then, and it was
privately-owned. Moreover, Momma said that black babies were

43 legally permitted segregation in public facilities

44 Rice Sr., Bill (2006; 1998)
 92

not born upstairs in Beard when she moved to Troy in the 1960s.
Therefore, when my mother showed up at the hospital, in labor, she
said the staff tried to escort her down to the basement area
designated for black patients. My mother said that she “raised holy
cane” and refused to allow them to deliver her baby in what she
termed that “basement boiler room with hot steam pipes running
overhead.”

Apparently Momma created such a raucous that Daddy’s

momma, Mozell, became nervous and started to plead with my
mother to hush and go downstairs. Momma continued to refuse until
the staff put her in an upstairs room. Therefore, she said I was likely
the first black baby born upstairs in Troy’s hospital. Ironically, not
long after I was born, Beard Hospital closed.

Like my mother, I have a Bachelor of Science in Human

Services from Troy University. In 1995, I earned the Master of Arts
in English Literature from The University of Alabama in Huntsville.
Here I must pause to present an ironic example of Momma’s
aforementioned rule put into action, this time at the public school:

In fourth grade, a teacher attempted to track me into a remedial

English and reading group, until I told Momma. Momma listened
to my complaints about having to go sit in the hallway where the
reading class was conducted. Not saying much to me, Momma
nodded and told me to go to bed. The next day, Momma went to see
 93

the teacher. From what I understand, Momma told my teacher,

“Don’t start my child off at the bottom; if you aren’t sure what she
can do, start her at the top and then work your way down, if
necessary.” That was the end of that issue.

I now have several years of college teaching experience, and

for the last 9 years, I have worked for Trio-Student Support Services
(SSS), as an English/reading specialist. Trio-SSS is the same
program that helped Momma as a college student in pursuit of her
academic dreams. Is that not all so very ironic?

Socially, I am quite the opposite of my mother; I am more

of an introvert and I do meet strangers sometimes. Also, unlike my
mother, I waited until much later in my life to get married, and I
have no children. When I was 40 years old, I met Joseph Rembert,
Jr.; he became my best friend, and six months later, he became my
husband. Joseph is a minister and he has a son. My husband greatly
encouraged me to finish this book, and critically read multiple drafts
of it.

Lastly, just like my mother, I enjoy writing. Also, I bow

only to God, I make my own choices, and I do not tolerate bullies.

On Momma’s funeral program, I wrote, “Mama, you applied the

science of love, one element at a time, using a measure so exact
and appropriate that no one will be able to duplicate your formula
 94

exactly. No human can take credit for what you were able to
accomplish. Indeed, I was divinely favored to have you as my
mother.”

Faye (Miss Ann)

Not long after I was born, Momma learned that she was
expecting again. In February of 1970, she birthed her third child, a
baby girl that she named Faye and frequently called “Miss Ann.”
Beard Hospital in Troy had closed by the time Faye was born, and
Edge Memorial, the new hospital on the highway, had opened.
Faye, therefore, was born at Edge.

Though Faye weighed 9 lbs. 7 oz. at birth, she was born with
an iron deficiency. Momma said that for the first few months of life,
Faye was very frail and had many doctors’ appointments.
Eventually, however, Faye’s health improved.

At a very young age, Faye exhibited an exceptional singing

talent. Momma and many of our church family in Troy especially
loved to hear Faye sing the song “There’s a Bright Side
Somewhere.”45 Whenever Faye would sing the line, “But the devil
is trying to turn me around/ he don’t want me to have peace of
mind,” Momma and some of our other wonderful church mothers,
especially Mrs. Louise and Mrs. Mae Darby -- would catch the Spirit

45Uncertain about composer, but possibly Rev. James Cleveland; the accuracy of
lyrics here is not claimed.
 95

and the church would just go up in high praise. You could hear the
church mothers saying, “Sing it, baby, sing it!” Something about
that line and the way Faye sang it touched our mother’s heart and
other church mothers’ hearts.

This is a good place to explain how that rule that Momma had was
again demonstrated, this time at the church: One Sunday, when
Faye, who may have been 8 years old at the time, attempted to enter
the sanctuary of our church, a female usher who apparently had
some personal or church-related issue with Momma, slammed the
door on Faye’s hand; the lady didn’t apologize either. Momma was
almost calm when the woman finally opened the door to allow
worshippers to enter. As Momma entered the sanctuary, she pointed
at that usher and softly promised, “I’ll see you after church,” and
that is just what Momma did. After sending all of the children out
of the church, Momma approached the woman and there was a fight
in the pews. Years later, Momma said she regretted losing control
in church, and she said she promised God she would leave a church
before she ever “showed out” that way again. She kept that promise,
too. She eventually moved her membership to another church.

Faye has many qualities comparable to our mother. She was

always like a little grown-up in the spirit, hence her nickname “Miss
Faye.” She has natural leadership ability, like Momma. In high
school, she was the marching band color guard co-captain her junior
year, and color guard captain her senior year. Furthermore, she was
 96

a sought after youth speaker at church events in the community, and

she and her singing partner, Chris, won school talent competitions.
Like Momma, Faye also never appears to meet any strangers, and
she will talk to virtually anyone. Moreover, she is creative and
talented, and like Momma, she is a born teacher and youth mentor.

Momma encouraged Faye to pursue education as a career,

even when Faye was just a high school student; I believe she saw
the “teaching call” on Faye’s life. Before Momma’s passing, Faye
had enrolled in graduate school to pursue her teaching certificate. A
few months after Momma’s passing, Faye graduate from Troy
University with her Masters in Education and a 4.0 average.

Faye is married and has three daughters: Raydiance (her

oldest), Romaria (her middle daughter) and baby RaElle (who
underwent heart surgery shortly after she was born). Momma did
not get to meet RaElle. However, Raydiance and Romaria speak
often of “Granny,” with whom they had a close bond. When I see
Faye and her girls together, I remember all of the time Momma spent
with us.

Faye wrote this statement for Momma’s funeral program: “A great

mother is God’s priceless gift to His children. I love and appreciate
you for being your unique self and for all of your sacrifices to help
me and my girls. Thank you, Mama. Love, Faye . . .”
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LaShea (Shea; Sugar)

Momma birthed her fourth and last child, LaShea (a. k. a.
“Sugar” and “Shea”), in May of 1980. As stated, she referred to
Shea as her “late-in-life baby” because Momma was in her late 30s
when Shea arrived. Because of blood pressure issues, Momma had
a tough time birthing Shea; she nearly died in labor and had to
undergo a caesarian. Fortunately, Momma pulled through, and Shea
was born weighing 8lbs. 12 oz., in Troy, at Edge.

Like Momma, Shea likes to talk to people. Shea is also a

talented writer. As a newly ordained minister, she is active in the
African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church. Additionally, Shea is
a uniquely gifted and willing singer who is frequently called upon
to perform. Her rich mezzo soprano voice reaped promising reviews
when she auditioned for the Metropolitan Opera years ago. Shea
received formal music training at Troy University and was a
frequent soloist in the University’s Gospel choir.

Momma was very proud and supportive of LaShea’s music

career aspirations. Therefore, she was the executive producer of
LaShea’s 2005 CD, A Spiritual Thing. Even when Momma was
undergoing dialysis treatments and not feeling well, she still
attended LaShea’s singing performances. The day Momma died,
she tried to sit up in bed as LaShea sang “The Prayer of Jabez.”
Momma also began pointing vigorously toward something no one
 98

but she could see. I perceive that God and his angels were present
and acknowledged that very instant.

LaShea has four children, three boys and one girl: Eliakem
(her oldest son); Micah (who underwent heart surgery shortly after
he was born); Skyy (Shea’s only girl); and baby Loyal.
Unfortunately, Momma never met Micah, Skyy or Loyal. However,
Eliakem remembers “Granny” well and had a very close relationship
with her. LaShea wrote this statement that appeared on Momma’s
funeral program:

In Memory of My Momma - I love you always. You have been my

light in the dark. You have been my eyes when I could not see and
my voice when I couldn’t speak. You have been the wisdom spoken
in my ear. You have been my bridge over many troubled waters.
You have given [me] messages from God when I was too stubborn
to listen to Him myself. You are a legacy who will forever be
remembered. You are the heart of our family and now you are one
of God’s angels. I love you, and your footsteps will never be erased.
God bless you and I love you forever. – Sugar . . .

Momma and Her “Girls”

The last few years of Momma’s life, Momma, Faye,
LaShea and I spent a vast amount of time together. Those times
were never boring. Here is a story that shows Momma’s humor:
 99

One evening, we “girls” (Momma, Faye, LaShea and I) decided to

go to a local restaurant for dinner. As soon as we got there, we
started getting unwanted attention from a man known in town for
being overly flirtation with any woman he saw. Momma, the natural
comic that she was, snapped into character as soon as the man
opened his mouth to say something to us. She gave us her very
telling and slightly mischievous46 smile and wink, and softly said,
“I’m about to get this aggravating joker today.” Not hearing what
she had just said, the man continued introducing himself to us and
asking our names. Momma said, “Oh, you know me. I’m Mrs. Jane
Pittman. You know, I live down there by Mrs. Harriet Tubman, near
the Underground Railroad. I know you know Mr. Nat Turner and
Mr. Frederick Douglass, my uncles . . .”

By then, my sisters and I, and a few strangers in the restaurant, were

chuckling hard. Only then did the overly flirtatious man realize that
he had been duped. He stuck out his lips, stood with his tray in his
hands, and quietly strolled off. Then, we really enjoyed our dinner.

46 naughty, yet playful

 123

CHAPTER 13: THE LAST YEAR

The last year of her earthly life, I was usually with Momma. I would
leave work and come straight to her house, or go pick her up from
dialysis. Sometimes she would be so exhausted from dialysis, so
weak and nauseated, that she would not talk much. Other times, she
would want to take the scenic route home, pass the university
football stadium, especially if there was a game going on. She didn’t
seem to care about the traffic either.

Dialysis Mistreatment
When I think about all that Momma experienced daily, I still
get overwhelmed. How she handled her day-to-day stress, as well
as the various personalities she faced three days a week at dialysis,
is a mystery. Some of the medical staff she encountered
behaved downright rudely, impatiently and uncaringly toward her
and other dialysis patients. This is not to say that all of the medical
personnel were bad; my mother actually had great respect and much
confidence in several of them who really cared and tried to help
others. However, others showed a nasty nature and disposition
toward patients and toward their work responsibilities.

A specific incident needs to be recounted here. During one

of her early dialysis treatments, Momma was left bleeding profusely
for over an hour one night while the nurse in charge of her just left
without saying a word to anyone. Other staff members had to work
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to stop the bleeding, and Momma was very weak afterwards.

Because Momma complained in writing about the negligence, she
was apparently labeled as a “trouble maker” by that nurse and others
on staff. Not long thereafter, Momma had to return to the hospital
to have the dialysis port in her arm unclogged. I don’t know if those
occurrences are related, so I won’t make any claim. However, the
same day Momma had to have her port unclogged, several other
patients from the same dialysis center were at the same hospital for
the same procedure.

A Silent Protest
Dialysis can exhaust the patient’s spirit as much as it can
exhaust the patient’s body. Frequently, Momma was forced to
wait for hours in the treatment center for her name to be called
though she was told to come in at a particular time for treatment.
Sometimes other patients would walk in and get called back
immediately for treatment when Momma knew she was there long
before they arrived. It seemed that some people knew exactly
when to come in and others had to come in and just wait
indefinitely, or until the staff felt like calling them back.

Momma believed she was being retaliated against and

therefore, she waged her own passive-resistance protest. One day,
she decided to do everything she wanted to do first and take her
sweet time coming in for dialysis. It is my understanding that
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Momma purposely slept late, did some light shopping, went to

lunch with my sisters, and then dragged in to her appointment a
couple of hours later than usual.

That day, the nurse in charge suddenly became concerned

about keeping to an appointment schedule. When my mother
arrived, Momma said the nurse said that she had a problem with
Momma being late. That woman, who in my opinion was a bully
of the dim-witted brand, began to reprimand my mother for being
late. That inappropriate reprimand of course required that I step in
and deal with what was clearly a bully spirit.

Apparently Momma didn’t give the bully nurse much of a

reply or explanation for being late; she simply phoned me when
the mess started. I in turn phoned the bully nurse, and I
specifically told her that if she had any problem with anything my
mother said or did, she was to “take it up with me and not with my
mother.” I informed her, too, that she was never again to chastise
my mother because it was not her place to do so. Apparently some
of my mother’s ways had rubbed off on me and stuck at that point.

It has since dawned on me that sometimes parents’ roles

and children’s roles must reverse sometimes, especially as parents
get older and sicker, and as children become adults. Based on
firsthand experiences, I can suggest to anyone with an ailing parent
or loved to never leave the loved one alone in a medical facility, if
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at all possible. Families need to work together to develop shared

schedules for monitoring loved ones so that (1) loved ones are
never alone and vulnerable to ungodly strangers, and so that (2)
primary caregivers or companions will not keel over from mental,
emotional or physical stress and exhaustion.

Patients Have Rights

As I knew she eventually would, Momma directly spoke to
the dialysis center physicians regarding the routine way that some
personnel mistreated certain patients, many of whom were elderly,
poor, passive, very sick, and completely unaware of “patient
rights.”47 Knowing that my mother could be mistreated because of
her outspokenness, I became super vigilant. I began to
spontaneously call the facility to check on her during her 4-hour
treatments. Sometimes, I would just pop in to see if she was okay.
I had already bought her a little cell phone so she could call me
during dialysis; that’s the phone she used to call me when the bully
nurse started with her that day. Other family members checked on
Momma often, too. These efforts helped a little, but not enough.

Momma called me a few times from dialysis when she was

very frustrated with the staff or anxious about the treatment. Once,
she phoned me crying. Immediately, I left work and I, too, cried

47 A patient’s rights to receive quality, “legal” and “ethical” medical treatment

from their provider; legal rights or guidelines related to the “patient-provider
relationship” (http://www.surgeryencyclopedia.com/Pa-St/Patient-Rights.html)
 127

on my way to the dialysis center. Before I got out of my car, I

dried my tears and put on my “game-on” face. When the nurse
saw me approaching, she beckoned for me to bypass the waiting
area and come into the treatment room. When I walked into the
room, Momma burst into tears. I sat next to her and just held her
hand until she pulled herself together. When I asked her what was
wrong, she said, “I’m so tired of living like this, tired of feeling
like this. I’m tired of this place.” The staff instantly began
swearing that they had done nothing and had tried to comfort
Momma. It still upset me to see Momma’s emotional struggles. I
realized then that brave people get scared, too, even as they forge
ahead.

When I went out into the lobby that day, I sat there reflecting
on how stressful this situation was for my mother and for all who
loved her; then, I felt helpless. All I knew to do was sit, wait, and
try not to cry in front of all of those strangers.

~ In Retrospect ~
Slowing Down
After retiring, Momma noticeably started slowing down.
She began getting out of bed later and later, which unnerved family
because she had always been an early riser, one to get up at 4:00 or
5:00 a.m., to write or watch television or do chores. However, she
began getting up at 9:00, then 10:00, then 10:30, etc. All of us were
concerned at how much she had begun sleeping.
 128

This might be a good place to share some learned wisdom.

First of all, God knows what people can handle. Finding Momma
alone and not breathing would have been too much for any one of
us in the family to bear, so God made sure Momma did not spend
much time alone. I prayed, too, that if Momma had to die, loved
ones would be present with her. She was far too available to all of
us to ever have to feel alone, especially as she took her last breath.

Now I reconsider my initial remarks in Part II of this book,

and recognize that the enemy to my soul has tried repeatedly to
infiltrate my thoughts, trying to make me strike inwardly against
myself and beat myself into a useless pulp for not being able to stay
up talking to my mother whenever she wanted to talk. However
Jesus Christ, lovingly reminds me that though I am a human with
flaws and faults, I loved my mother. Sometimes, he reminds me that
I behaved as if I loved her more than I loved him, which is ill-
advised, but understandably human. Mother is our first human
connection in this world. Mothers are our pillars of strength and we
lean on them until we can stand on our own feet. Remember, Jesus
loved his own mother with a passion, too; he did all he could to
secure her future. Even as he suffered on the cross, Christ made
provisions for his mother’s care48. In his image, we are created to
behave likewise.

48 John 19: 26, Holy Bible

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Momma’s “Thank You”

As stated, my brother, Momma’s eldest child, practically
moved into the hospital in January of 2008. He, other family
members and I kept the vow to her that she would never be left
alone and that one of us would always be just steps away, if she
needed us. Every visiting hour, someone was there to talk to her,
pray with her, brush her hair, and do whatever we could to make
her more comfortable. Every night, someone stayed at that
hospital, and let the medical staff know that she was not alone. I
believe that God was especially pleased with the manner in which
my brother attended to Momma that last time she went to the
hospital. He clearly was on a mission to stick by her side through
this entire storm. I’m not boasting on him; that’s just the truth.

Momma thanked me a day or two before her last health

downturn and before the medical team determined to put her back
on life support in the CVICU. I was sitting alone in the room with
her when she broke the silence with a simple statement: “Becky,
thank you for all you have done for me.” Her words scared me,
made me nervous, because she sounded as if she was wrapping up a
phase of her life. I told Momma that she did not need to thank me,
and that I should be thanking her for all she had done. Then she said,
“Just tell everybody ‘thank you’.”
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Thereafter, I had the desperate notion to ask Momma if she

wanted to try to walk some. She said she would try. Therefore, I
walked over to her bed to help her to her feet. She tried her best to
stand, but she did not have the strength. As I tried to support her
physically, I felt her body going limp; I had to struggle to keep her
from falling. I managed to get her back in bed, but my heart was
about to crumble into a million pieces. My momma just wasn’t
looking right to me.

Momma pretty much slept the rest of that day and did not
try to get up to use the bathroom at all, nor did she try to talk. I
noticed, too, that she had developed a dry cough. That concerned
me, so I mentioned it to the nurse who brought her some
medications.

The next evening, the heart surgeon came into the room to
check on Momma. He had a serious expression on his face. He
asked her how she was feeling, and she used her hand to gesture “so-
so.” In a soft voice, half looking at her and half looking at me, the
surgeon said, “Do as much as you feel you can, Mrs. Money. You
don’t have to try to walk today.”

A few hours later, the nurse came into the room and
beckoned for me to step into the hall. She then said, “The doctor
wants to return your mother to the CVICU.” My mother’s intestines
had started to fail; dialysis was not working to keep up with all of
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the fluid collecting in her body; her blood-sugar level was high; and
she was getting sicker and weaker by the hour.

Right then, I felt my tears coming to the surface, and

apparently the nurse saw my distress. She took me by my hand and
looking me square in my face, said, “Listen, love. I know you don’t
want to hear this, but I am going to be straight with you for
‘Momma’s’ sake. She is not doing well. It may be time to let her
go. I know that is not what you want to hear, but she is probably not
going to hang on much longer.” I had absolutely no idea what to
think or say, so I said nothing. God was clearly preparing me to lose
Momma, so I couldn’t make that claim again to Him. In a few
minutes, Momma was back in the CVICU.

I phoned Daddy and Toby to tell them what was going on.
Toby had left the hospital the day before to take a break, but when I
called, he came right back to stay with Momma, and he told me to
leave the hospital for a while. Maybe he saw that the up-and-down
nature of Momma’s physical health was taking its toll on my mental
health. I hesitated to leave and I felt some guilt about leaving the
hospital. However, if I had not gotten out of there soon, I was going
to fall apart. Before I left, Momma was able to tell the nurse to tell
me she was “tired.” I already knew this and I was trying to accept
the inevitable – that she might not survive this downturn.
~ Death Visits Twice in ‘07 ~
 132

Doctors told Momma in December of 2007 that she would

have to undergo a triple heart bypass to unblock major arteries to
her heart. She had gone to her cardiac doctor for an EKG, and the
doctor immediately sent her on a gurney to the hospital next door.
The doctor at the hospital told her that she would have to have the
surgery soon. She told the doctor she would have it after the
holidays because she was not spending another holiday in the
hospital.

In 2000 or 2001, Momma had spent almost a month in the

hospital; she had been there during Christmas and beyond New
Year’s Day. That was a terrible experience for her, and she longed
to be at home. New Year’s eve of that same visit, I had to stop the
same nurse twice from giving Momma the wrong medications.
Finally, the nurse was so negligent that I reported him to the charge
nurse who asked me to report him to the hospital administrator,
which I did. I never saw that nurse again.

Anyway, not long after arriving home from the hospital in

December of 2007, Momma informed me of two disturbing
experiences. As indicated in Part I of this book, Momma had the
prophetic ability to foresee the deaths of family members. Usually,
she would dream or envision her deceased mother before someone
would die. However in 2007, Momma told me that she dreamt of
her deceased mother, her deceased father, and her deceased step-
father, all dressed in white, and all standing together.
 133

When Momma asked me what I thought that her dream of

her parents meant, I did not really respond. She, however, knew
exactly what it meant. She told me without mincing any words, "It
didn't scare me. I saw death and it didn't scare me."

A few days later, Momma again approached me. This time,

she told me that early that morning, she had seen an extremely tall,
dark figure standing in her bedroom doorway, silently looking at
her. Again she said, the sign didn’t scare her and she was not afraid.

I did not want to deal with that image mentally or

emotionally, so I tried not to think about it. I suggested it was
daddy, to which she responded "No, it wasn't. I got up to check
and he was asleep on the couch. Quit treating me like I'm crazy
now.” My reply was, "I know you aren’t crazy, Momma."

That dream and vision she told me about never left the
forefront of my mind, no matter how busy I tried to keep myself
that December. I tried to push it back into a deep mental recess,
but instead it kept ebbing up foremost in my spirit; it still does
after all of these years. Even during our Christmas Eve gathering
at LaShea’s home, even while Momma prayed the most striking
and touching prayer that Christmas Eve, even while Momma
insisted on cooking Christmas Dinner, and even all Christmas Day,
the thought kept coming to my mind: “Momma saw death.”
 134

Admittedly, I was angry a few days in December of 2007

because I thought my mother was taking her life too lightly and not
acting overly concerned about dying. I also was angry at the kidney
specialist because I felt she was trying to push Momma into a
dangerous surgery, and I felt she had baited Momma into having the
surgery by telling Momma might be a good candidate for a kidney
transplant, if they got her heart strong enough first. I know, however,
that Momma did not even want to discuss a kidney donation with
her children. She flat out said that she would not accept a kidney
from any of us. Momma had already had sharp words with one of
her friends who one day brought up the subject in the middle of the
grocery store aisle. Momma flat out told the woman to “hush and
stay out of that!”

Another matter that stirred my anger, and possibly that of

others who loved Momma, was how unfair it seemed that some
devilish folks were getting to live a long time, tormenting others
regularly, while a good lady such as Momma was struggling daily
to live.

After my anger subsided a bit, I discussed with my siblings,

and with Daddy, Momma’s dream and vision of death. We all
expressed concern about her undergoing surgery; however, Momma
appeared not to be at all alarmed and seemed determined to go
 135

through with the surgery, after the holidays, regardless of the risks
and regardless of anyone else’s fears.
 136

CONCLUSION
CHAPTER 14: “ONE MORE TIME . . .”

My mother loved God all of her life, and she was always singing
church songs. That is not to say that she would not use a few choice
“Sunday school” words on occasion, because, well, she was human.
However, a few years before her death, she rarely used a bad word.
She also increased her habit of humming and singing songs while
she was washing dishes, cooking or driving. Many songs that she
sang come to mind, but this one stands out in this moment:
If my mother was here today,
These are the words my mother would say,
Lord I’m glad to be in your service
One more time . . .49 (unknown composer)

I did not go with Momma to church the Sunday before she

went into the hospital for open heart surgery. I also did not stay at
the house the day some of her female friends came to the house for
Bible study and prayer. However, daddy told me about the
awesome time in the Lord that Momma had on both occasions.
During the bible study and prayer at the house, Daddy said he felt
an electricity in the air. He said a sense of peace fell over the house
and over him as he heard the ladies in the living room praising God,

49 I tried to find this song, but failed. I believe it may be a variation of the
traditional Gospel song “Glad to be in the Service,” with differently arranged
lyrics.
 137

singing and praying in faith. Daddy also said that he could feel the
spirit of the Lord come in and take over.

Daddy further said that Sunday (possibly December 30,

2007), Momma set the church on fire with her praise and everybody
there rejoiced and wept in the spirit as the freedom of the Lord
spread through the building and congregation. He said such
“genuine and pure worship” he had never witnessed before, and the
Spirit of the Lord came into the sanctuary and blessed everyone. He
then told me I should have been there; I agree.

~ The “Successful” Surgery ~

Surely the excellent time in the presence of God that
Momma experienced that Sunday helped Momma march (not walk)
into the hospital January 3, 2008, with the courage of Daniel and
Deborah, and with the lionhearted demeanor of King David. In her
brown and pale blue jogging suit she had received as a Christmas
present, and in her athletic shoes, Momma got out of her van and
like the vanguard she was, she bravely lead her family into the
hospital.

Daddy, Toby, and I accompanied Momma to the hospital

that morning. She was there and checked in at about 6:00 or so. We
talked generally with Momma while she waited to go back for
surgery; she was in good spirits. Then, before the surgical assistant
rolled her back on the gurney, she kissed Daddy and Toby on the
 138

cheek. I was so scared, I just stood back staring at her. Noticing me

and almost as if she was reading signs of my fear, Momma spoke to
me with a smile on her face: “Come on, Miss Becky, give your
Momma a hug.”

I hugged my momma. She looked at me sideways and then

she gave me her trademark wink and smile. She then said to me,
“Come on now, Miss Becky.” Translation: “Hold it together, girl.”
Momma then told the patient young man that she was ready to “get
this show on the road.”

As the young man rolled Momma down the long hall to

the surgical area, she was actually joking with him and making
small talk. Every few seconds, I would hear the young man say,
“yes ma’am.” As I turned away from the scene, I heard that same
young man laugh hard and say, “Mrs. Money, you are just a mess.”
Momma chuckled, too.

I don’t know what Momma said, but the young man’s reply
was such a familiar one. She often made people laugh and people
generally felt comfortable talking to her. Her ability to find comedy
in this situation amazes me as I now recollect on that day.

A few minutes after noon, I heard “Beep. Beep. Beep. Code

blue CVICU. Code blue CVICU.”
 139

Daddy, Toby and I had just talked to the hospital chaplain

who reassured us that Momma’s surgery had been very “successful”
and had taken less than three hours to complete when it was
expected to take twice that long. Then suddenly we heard over the
hospital intercom, “Code blue CVICU. Code blue CVICU.”
Immediately, I looked at Toby and said, “We need to call the
CVICU.” My brother at first said, “Everyone just told us that she
was okay and the surgery went perfectly.” By then, I could feel my
blood rushing through my veins; it seemed that time was slowing
down but my heart rate was picking up. I said, “Just call.” I can’t
recall if Toby called back or if the chaplain did, but a few seconds
later, someone (Toby, I think) said, “They said for us to come back
to the CVICU (Cardiovascular Intensive Care Unit), immediate
waiting area.

No one had to tell me that code blue was for my mother. I

just had that sinking feeling. When we went to the CVICU
immediate waiting area, we were told by somebody that when the
medical team removed Momma from the bypass machine, she went
into cardiac arrest.

When I heard this, I dropped to my knees and I raised my

voice to God. I told God that He had not prepared me to lose my
mother that day and I needed Him to bring my Momma back. I
remember that the chaplain was sitting by my side trying to comfort
me, but I was so overwhelmed I could not even hear him. I did,
 140

however, hear the nurse say, “She’s okay. We got her stable. She’s
okay. You all can come see her in just a minute. Only then could I
pull myself together and up off that floor.

When we went back to the CVICU where Momma was, she

was awake. She looked at us as if to let us know that she was okay.
All I could do was just hold her hand and thank God in my own
heart.

Momma pulled through that first code blue. For a while,

she seemed to rebound. However, I think simply entered a euphoric
or energy “burst” phase I had heard others mention. Apparently,
severely sick people sometimes appear to improve tremendously for
a while before they relapse. During that euphoric period, appetite
may resume and normal personality may be noticed in the patient.
That happened with Momma. She began eating, walking a little
(with assistance), cracking a joke now and then, and conversing with
hospital staff members.

However, 28 days after the code blue, Mama went home to

be with ". . . the King of Glory . . . the Lord mighty in battle”50 She
died at 6:42 p.m., in the CVICU of Baptist South Hospital in
Montgomery, Alabama, January 31, 2008. Momma fought death,
and I believe she fought because she did not want to leave her

50 Psalms 24:8, KJV Bible

 141

family. Momma did not die until just after my brother finished this
statement that spoke for all of us: “You are my hero, Momma.”
That seemed to be the last word she needed to hear before she let go
of this life and before the “silver cord51” was broken.

The Worst Storms

I had always heard, even from Momma, that when a good
person dies, rain comes as a sign from heaven that the soul of the
person is being received into eternal glory though the earth mourns
the loss. Well, that night, just after Momma died, the “bottom”
seemed to fall out of the sky. It stormed torrentially all the way
home, and the road ahead was barely visible. Daddy accompanied
me in my vehicle, and behind us, Toby drove his car. It rained so
hard, I asked Daddy if I should pull over. He said, “No, you’re doing
fine; just take your time like you’re doing.” We finally arrived home
to break the news to Faye, LaShea and the children. Fortunately,
they had left the hospital with the children not even an hour before
Momma’s passing.

I truly believe that like the song lyrics inform, Momma

is "singing up there," though we miss her here and have shed enough
tears to flood a nation.

If You Miss Me52

If you miss me from singin’ down here

51 Ecclesiastes 12: 6 KJV Bible

52 Unknown composer; traditional gospel song; possibly rearranged lyrics
 142

And you can’t find me nowhere

Come on up to bright glory
I’ll be singin’ up there
I’ll be singin’ up there
I’ll be singin’ up there
Come on up to bright glory
I’ll be singin’ up there.

~ Momma’s Homegoing ~
Memories of the days after Momma’s death are very foggy.
However, what I generally recall is working on the funeral
arrangements with my father and brother, going to purchase funeral
attire for Momma with my sisters, and contacting individuals to
participate on the funeral program.

The immediate family decided not to prolong Momma’s

funeral or burial. She was therefore laid to rest Tuesday, February
6, 2008, at 11:00 a.m., at the Outreach Church, in Troy. Again, like
the night she passed, torrential rainstorms came the morning of her
homegoing. It stormed so intensely that our family began receiving
calls from out-of-town friends and family letting us know they could
not travel because of the bad weather. Just before the service was
to start, the storm lightened, and the church filled with family and
friends. Momma’s brother from Indiana arrived.

That day, Momma was dressed in a beautiful pale pink suit,

with silver accessories. Toby had a rose-tinted and cherry wood
plaque created that was included in her coffin. Her long-time friend,
 143

Ms. Pearl, was in charge of grooming Momma, and she did so

impeccably well.

Momma’s pastor, Pastor A. Townsend, officiated and

Bishop W. C. Scott assisted. Uncle Henry brought the prayer of
invocation and St. Peter Baptist Church’s youth choir uplifted the
service through song. LaShea sang a special musical tribute to
Momma, as did other family members and friends. Mrs. Jennetta
graciously orated the City and County Proclamations listing some
of Momma’s contributions to local society. Former co-workers and
family friends brought words of reflection and encouragement, and
other stirring musical tributes.

Pastor Townsend delivered a rousing message that day and

set the hearts of those present ablaze. The message focused on the
general subject of loving others. His was a most appropriate
message, because at its core was the character of sacrificial, agape
love, and its ability to lift the downtrodden while bringing eternal
life to their souls.

The interment followed at a local cemetery, and the repast

was held at Bethel Baptist Church, two doors up from the house
home. Family members and family friends hosted the repast.
Momma was laid to rest next to her father, in Troy. Her homegoing
was dignified and spirited, and celebrated her heroic heart.
 144

Momma’s husband, our Daddy, wrote these words that

appeared on Momma’s funeral program:

My dear wife, as you look down from heaven, I hope you

see me as the man you wanted me to be – one who will
respect your name and your wishes, as you have departed
this earth to go where I pray to go at my appointed time.
When we meet again, I hope to renew our vows of love. –
Your husband, Bobby J. Money

As I close, I envision Momma singing in her soft, melodic

voice:
May the life I live speak for me.
May the life I live speak for me.
When I’m resting in my grave,
There is nothing more to be said.
May the life I live speak for me.53

Indeed, no person is just what other people see. So much more

lives within each one of us and so much more fleshes out our
stories than what is visible to human eyes. Remember, too, that

53Gospel song, “May the Work I’ve Done Speak for Me” as performed by The
Consolers in the 1950s or 60s
 145

with every glimpse that we are blessed to see into someone’s heart,
a thousand more glimpses are yet to be seen, a thousand more
glimpses are yet to be revealed, and even after all that appears in
this story, we have only glimpsed a fraction of Johnnie Mae
Wilson Money’s heroic heart. Rest in peace, Momma. §

< THE END >

 146

APPENDIX

~ A Partial List of Johnnie Mae Wilson Money’s Major

Accomplishments ~

 First person in her family to graduate college; a member of

Troy University Trio-Student Support Services
 Started the first black-owned and private Kindergarten in
Troy, AL (Johnnie Pearl Evans Memorial Kindergarten)
 Long-time president of Oakland Heights Elementary
School's PTO (Parent-Teacher Organization).
 OCAP/Head Start Policy Council Member
 A Founding Member and the first Secretary of the Troy
Chapter NAACP.
 Served as Church secretary, Usher, Youth Leader, Sunday
School Teacher and Missionary for over 35 years. Member of
Morning Star Baptist Church of Troy; youth director at Christian
Life Church of Troy, and baptized member of Old Mt. Moriah
Baptist Church in Panama City, FL
 Member of Troy’s Citizens Redistricting Committee that
change Troy’s form of government
 Served as the first STAR Class teacher for the Troy City
Schools
 Served as the first School Social Worker for the Troy City
Schools
 Integrated Troy's public park, Murphree Park when she took
her Kindergartners there to play in the 1970s. She refused to
leave under threat of arrest
 Served as the first chapter mother for Alpha Phi Alpha
Fraternity at Troy University (Xi Beta chapter)
 Coordinated the first black history programs at the Alternative
Learning Center (Troy)
 147

 Coordinated the first Career Week at the Alternative

Learning Center (Troy).
 Founded the Alternative Mothers and Alternative
Fathers mentoring program
 Coordinated the first Black History Program at the Charles
Henderson Middle School (Featured high profile speakers such
as Congressman/ Civil Rights Icon John Lewis.)
 Co- founded the Charms Club for Girls, with Juliet Crawford.
 Founded/managed the teen singing group Ladies First (Troy)
 Executive Producer of LaShea V. Money's CD: "It's a Spiritual
Thing" (Gospel Music featuring the VOICE singers)
 Reporter for Troy’s black news publication, The Voice (?),
produced by McMillion & Sons Photography group
 Started the First Community Youth Oratorical Society in
Troy54
~ Poem Dedication 1 ~
The poem "Remember How She Praised Him" that I wrote
in memory of Momma is based on an oral testimony about
Momma's last praise experiences and based on the prayers I heard
her speak many times. This poem is a modified adaptation of the
one printed on her funeral program in 2008.

Remember How She Praised Him

By Rebecca C. Money

Remember how she praised Him last time.

Remember or we might soon disremember
How she lifted her eyes and hands,
And from her palms, fruit fell gracefully and survived.
Everyone was fed that last time, because she praised Him.

54
List originally recorded at virtual-memorials.com
 148

Remember how our beloved praised Him last time,

And do not be a guilty bystander, bypassing ready fruit,
dangling strangely from a too heavy bough.
Let no life die in vain heaps -- trampled under calloused feet --
Bruised, pressed, and repressed repeatedly.

Remember how our beloved praised Him last time,

How she grabbed His glorious garment in both her fists,
pressed them up, drew them together,
into and out of her heart.

Remember how she praised Him last time

while her soul grew tired down here.
Remember how she praised him,
in her own way, in God's anointed season,
in time and until she replenished
her future survivors.

Our beloved knew how to praise Him and

Oh, how she blessed us with her praise. ~

~ Special Acknowledgement~
Special thanks are extended to Virtual-Memorials friend
Alicia (Grandmother of Angel Cody) who generously paid for
Momma’s site to remain permanently established. Joining Virtual-
Memorials and constructing the site provided tremendous catharsis
and new friends during the grieving process.

~ Poem Dedication 2 ~
The following poem by LaShea Money appears at the
virtual-memorial site established in memory of Johnnie Mae
Wilson Money.
 149

In Her Last Days

By LaShea V. Money

In her last days, she kept a smile on her face.

In her last days, she continued to seek his face.
In her last days, she continued in the race.
In her last days, she walked in God's grace.

In her last days, she never complained of her pain.

For she knew God's will would reign over all.
In her last days, she accepted her call
For she knew, God was involved in it all.

In her last days, she was never afraid.

In her last days, she prayed and prayed.
In her last days, she saw God's face.
She fought no more, for she knew it was God's grace.

In her last days, Mama's battle was won,

so she went with God, above and beyond the sun.
In heaven now is where she is bond.
In heaven now is where Mama belongs. ~55

55Money, LaShea V. "Virtual Memorials." Poetics. Virtual Memorials. Accessed

July 1, 2014. http://www.virtual-memorials.com/main.php?action=
view&mem_id=12597&page_no=3.
 150

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