I was only seven when Mom died. I don't have a lot of memories of her. I do remember her being sick. She asked me to go get her a lump of coal for the stove and told me she would give me a piece of candy. I was just little and I really wanted that candy. I went outside and brough the coal in for her. She put it in the stove and didn't give me the candy. I said, "Can I have my candy now, Mommy?" She gave me the candy. Then she turned to me and said, "I bet the little boy down the street does things for his mommy without taking her candy away from her."
I have a picture of my mom sitting in a chair on the front porch holding a baby. For years I thought it was one of my older brothers. One day I was sitting looking at that picture and my mom's voice came back to me. I could hear her saying, "Christine, that's you in this picture." I'm sure it is. Daddy was in prison when I was born and I think she had the picture made to send to him so he could see me. I love looking at that picture and thinking of her.
Mom was born May 25, 1900, in Damascus, Virginia, right on the Tennessee boarder. She was the daughter of William Franklin Ford and Molly or Mary Sells. The story is told that Molly was a young Indian girl given to a white family to raise during the Trail of Tears. So many women and children were killed during that time. We've never been able to prove that. Her hair was so long she could sit on it. I remember her sitting on a chair and letting me brush it. I loved to brush her hair. Mom always braided her hair and twisted it into a bun in the back of her head. She said that is the way women in her Native American family wore their hair. Mom was a beautiful woman. I'll never understand why she married Daddy. He was 31 years older than her. Her family hated him with a passion. I never knew why.
I have a picture of my mom sitting in a chair on the front porch holding a baby. For years I thought it was one of my older brothers. One day I was sitting looking at that picture and my mom's voice came back to me. I could hear her saying, "Christine, that's you in this picture." I'm sure it is. Daddy was in prison when I was born and I think she had the picture made to send to him so he could see me. I love looking at that picture and thinking of her.
Mom was born May 25, 1900, in Damascus, Virginia, right on the Tennessee boarder. She was the daughter of William Franklin Ford and Molly or Mary Sells. The story is told that Molly was a young Indian girl given to a white family to raise during the Trail of Tears. So many women and children were killed during that time. We've never been able to prove that. Her hair was so long she could sit on it. I remember her sitting on a chair and letting me brush it. I loved to brush her hair. Mom always braided her hair and twisted it into a bun in the back of her head. She said that is the way women in her Native American family wore their hair. Mom was a beautiful woman. I'll never understand why she married Daddy. He was 31 years older than her. Her family hated him with a passion. I never knew why.
I remember Mommy stirring a cake up and me standing on a chair beside her. After she dumped it into the pan, she let me take my finger and clean the rest of the cake batter out of the bowl. One Sunday at dinner time, a friend of the boys, Lee Powers, was eating with us. He told Mommy, "Ms. Lackey, these are awful good green beans." Mommy was a good cook.
Mom died in 1937, in January or February. She was thirty-seven (37) years old. She died of pneumonia. Looking back I'm sure she had heart problems. Maybe congestive heart failure. The doctors thought she had tuberculosis and made all of us get shots for it. They did the shot on the bottom of our arm and we had to get tested for it. None of us had it. Molley says that is why she doesn't think Mommy had it.
The day she died, Water and James didn't want to go to school because she was worse. Nettie and Frank were to little to go to school. The lady, Myrtle, staying with us taking care of Mommy gave me a milk bottle to take to school to buy my lunch with. You got a dime for a bottle back then. I bought a cake and a pop for my lunch. James and Walter came to school later in the day. Myrtle was a black woman and and we really loved her. She stayed with us for awhile after Mommy died. I have often wondered what happened to her. Old Dad Shannon (Myrtle's boyfriend) came to school and told the principal to send us home. We knew it was him because we saw him ahead of us walking down the railroad track ahead of us.
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