storytelling for truth lovers

  • Eloise Robinson Powell was a woman of substance

    Eloise Robinson Powell was a woman of substance


    “Eloise Powell was a very special person, she was successful in every aspect of life, and she was a Godly woman who loved her family with every ounce of her being.”  ——– from obituary September 06, 2022

    My daddy Glenn Morris’s favorite cousin was Eloise Robinson Powell who was born March 21, 1924 six months before his birth on October 6th. of the same year. Daddy’s mother Betha Day Robinson and Eloise’s father William T. – better known to us as Bud – were sister and brother; Daddy’s father George Morris and Eloise’s mother Hattie Jane were brother and sister. In rural southeast Walker County, Texas the children of such mixed families in the Roaring 20s were known as “double first” cousins.

    Although their parents came from large families, (George and Hattie were two of ten children, Betha and Bud two of seven) Eloise was an only child while Glenn had one older brother and sister. Glenn spent much of his summers growing up with Eloise at their grandmother’s home in the tiny community of Crabbs Prairie “out in the country” near Huntsville which was fewer than 30 miles from his house in the small town of Richards in neighboring Grimes County. The friendship they formed in those early years as double first cousins would last throughout their lifetimes, spilling over into the next generation when Eloise’s son Bill and I played outside Uncle Bud’s store in Crabbs Prairie as kids in the 1950s.

    Eloise remained in Huntsville after her marriage to Chester Powell, had a successful career for thirty years as the administrative secretary to three different presidents of Sam Houston State University and upon her retirement received the honor of being named an SHSU Distinguished Alumni, the highest recognition a graduate of the school receives. My dad took me to visit Eloise in her office at Sam Houston several times when he was working on his master’s degree in education at the college. I’m sure she was surprised when Daddy and his little daughter popped by without warning in the President’s office to say hello. (Think no cell phones.) I remember how sweetly she smiled, though, how genuinely happy they were to see each other.

    The vicissitudes of life took Bill and me away from our Crabbs Prairie/Richards roots which meant that we didn’t stay as close as Glenn and Eloise had been; yet, our paths crossed again when I had an unexpected four-year Texas sabbatical from 2010 – 2014. Bill and his wife Donna had moved back to Crabbs Prairie and were living in a lovely home next to the modern convenience store version of Uncle Bud’s store. Pretty and I lived in Montgomery, a growing small town 18 miles south of Richards. Donna and Bill were as gracious to us when we popped in on them as Eloise was to my dad and me. Think cell phones, but no phone numbers.

    One of the greatest gifts of my Texas sabbatical after forty years of living a thousand miles away in South Carolina was my reconnection to Eloise and our family. I visited with her in her Huntsville home several times where we shared memories, stories, looked at pictures, birth certificates, marriages licenses, death certificates. We talked, we laughed, we shed tears – but mostly we shared a love of family history which Eloise had preserved in detail worthy of the personal historian she was.

    She also guided me on field trips around the area. One of our mutual cousins on the Morris side of the family, Fay, lived close enough to Eloise that we walked to help celebrate Fay’s 100th birthday in 2012.

    Eloise in center with her Morris first cousin sisters Fay (r.) and Willie Jo

    Eloise confided privately afterwards on the walk back she was convinced Fay’s secret to longevity was her 5:00 o’clock cocktail with a friend every afternoon without fail. I nodded and said I couldn’t argue with that.

    On another field trip in 2012 Eloise guided our driver Frances and her husband Lee to explore county roads between Crabbs Prairie and Shiro to show us land that had been part of the original 320 acres received by Benjamin W. Robinson for his service in the Texas War for Independence from Mexico in 1836. Frances is Eloise’s first cousin on the Robinson side of the family – she and Lee were always up for a field trip. I promise I could never find this property again, but I did take a picture of this typical Texas vista which I then knew had belonged to my 3rd. great-grandfather.

    Eloise prepared refreshments after our field trip – wine a must

    Ending the trip with dinner at Mexican restaurant

    seated l. to r. Lee and Frances, Eloise – standing lucky me

    Pretty and I visited Eloise in February this year when we made a short trip to Texas after a five year absence. I talk about going home every year, but circumstances make the plane ride more difficult and, of course, there was the Covid epidemic. Regardless, it was a joy to see and talk to Eloise, her precious daughter-in-law Donna and her great-great-granddaughter Sophia who reminded us of our Molly. Eloise at nearly 98 years of age recognized us, interacted with us and turned the conversation to what we shared in common: family. She reminded me that our family had given us a good start in life, values to treasure, to always remember where we came from.

    Eloise had many challenges in her later years. She was predeceased by her husband Chester and son Bill but was loved with more than a love by Donna, her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. No one could have done more for her than Donna who was her primary caregiver and life preserver.

    To me, Eloise will remain a woman of substance, a woman who “loved her family with every ounce of her being.” No flags fly at half mast today for her funeral as they do for the Queen of England’s passing, but in my mind I see a flag of hope for future generations of cousins who will remember her spirit as a guide for moving forward.

    RIP, Eloise. I will miss you.

  • setting boundaries with Molly

    setting boundaries with Molly


    Family times on our screened porch this summer have been far and few between, as my cousin Martin used to say, but Labor Day weekend Number One Son Drew brought his two daughters almost 3 year old Ella and 7 months old Molly for a visit with their Nanas for a final pool fling. While Daddy Drew and Ella took a bathroom break, Pretty captured my efforts to teach Molly the importance of boundaries.

    Naynay, why are your eyes always watering?

    Maybe you have something in there

    Naynay, stop talking about my fingernails – not nice

    Ok, Naynay – is this better?

    Naynay, please stop talking about boundaries

    Can anyone help me keep Naynay from talking about boundaries?

    What’s a boundary?

    ***********************

    For the children. Slava Ukraini.

  • Serena Wins!

    Serena Wins!


    Jumping for joy following her win, Serena Williams flashes the multi-million dollar smile toward the stands overflowing with fans who are thrilled to have tickets to witness the historic match. US Open 2022 at Ashe Stadium in New York City?

    Ding, ding, ding. No, Serena tennis trivia fans. I watched the championship match between Williams and Li Na in the 2014 Sony Open a/k/a Miami Masters at the Tennis Center at Crandon Park in Key Biscayne, Florida this morning in my I can’t get enough of her greatness obsession by binging the Salute to Serena this week on The Tennis Channel (the unlucky loser in the battle with ESPN for live coverage of the US Open in 2022). If you can tear yourself away from the ESPN app, catch a few glimpses of Serena in her younger, more powerful years. She was, simply, amazing.

    The 2014 win was historic because it was her seventh title at the event – the number of wins she shared at that time with Chris Evert, Martina Navratilova and Steffi Graf. She won in straight sets by defeating the Chinese player Li Na – closing the second set with an awesome ace. Classic Serena shot that has been her trademark over the past 27 years. Interestingly, Li Na retired following this loss. Also interesting, Novak Djokovic won the men’s singles title in the same tournament that year.

    Last night as Serena began what she refers to as her “evolution” away from tennis, Pretty and I sat watching from our den comfy chairs while she sweated in the summer heat of New York on Ashe Stadium in a first round singles match of the 2022 US Open, the final major of the year. I was as nervous for her as a whistleblower testifying for the January 6th congressional committee against an ex-president. I could scarcely breathe until she won.

    The victory jump may not have been quite as high as the one in the 2014 Miami tournament, the tennis attire may have been more sparkly, but the powerful ferocity that is Serena, the passionate love of the game of tennis, and the flashes of brilliance in that game last night showed why she continues to play in this fourth decade of her life. Would I dearly love for Serena Williams to win her 24th. Major title before she leaves the game? Absolutely. 100%.

    But if she doesn’t, I am grateful to have watched this force of nature not only overcome obstacles to participate in the world of professional tennis but also help to change that world and the game forever. Rock on, Serena. Pretty and I are in your corner.

    2016 Olympics

  • 2022: the Year in Review (well, so far)

    2022: the Year in Review (well, so far)


    Let’s rap.

    Two thousand twenty-two, I’m worried now ’bout you.

    You’re two-thirds done and not too fun.

    so where the heck have you gone?

    (rhythm band in background doing their best to find one)

    A new war in Ukraine with Russia to blame.

    Killing children at will with no sense of shame.

    bombing nuclear plants without any aim.

    (rhythm band in background stops and says in unison Seriously?

    bombing nuclear plants?)

    Two thousand twenty-two, I’m worried now ’bout you.

    You’re burning, you’re flooding, we shy away from the sights

    you’ve allowed the Supremes to take away rights.

    (rhythm band in background shakes their heads and wags fingers)

    Two thousand twenty-two, I’m really worried now

    our minds are blown by what we’ve found

    An ex-pres has taken secrets you shouldn’t have allowed.

    (rhythm band in background shake tambourines furiously)

    Two thousand twenty-two, number of months remaining four.

    we’re sick and tired of Covid and of you we implore

    give us a break from chills and fevers and muscles that are sore.

    (rhythm band in background nod approvingly, clapping hands)

    And if you don’t mind, here’s the last ax to grind.

    Two thousand twenty-two, you’re moving way behind

    We’re watching, we’re rapping, to make sure you get in line.

    (rhythm band moves into foreground to take bow – why, Liz Cheney is leading the band)

    **********************

    Yikes – I’m clearly not a rapper. Please stay tuned – I’ll do better.

  • Dimples, Butch, Buttercup, Sissy… Sissy?

    Dimples, Butch, Buttercup, Sissy… Sissy?


    Whenever someone asks me what I’m writing, I feel a fleeting twinge of guilty laziness for saying I continue to blog – no new book of essays, no great American novel, no legacy book for my granddaughters. This is me self publishing using the same platform I’ve had for thirteen years. Never reaching 2,000 followers but loving my local and international friends who faithfully hang with me. Averaging 150 hits per post in 2022, sometimes more in other years, sometimes fewer. Somewhere along the way I found a voice, but the Boomer passion for individual achievement in the realm of literature that produced six books is mixed now with the seasoned settling of comforting routines that continue to produce my cyberspace conversations. If I ever changed my mind about publishing a new collection of my flash nonfiction, I promise the following post from the archives would be included.

    Pretty, the great Treasure Hunter, occasionally brings home items that fascinate. One such find  was two versions of a board game I played as a child growing up in rural Grimes County, Texas in the mid twentieth century. Before the television set took over as our main form of entertainment, my family played all kinds of games from dominoes to gin rummy to board games Santa Claus left for me under the tree at Christmas. One of our family favorite board games was Go to the Head of the Class which was supposedly “educational” as well as fun. With school teacher parents, I played tons of “educational” games.

    fifth series copyrighted in 1949 by Milton Bradley, publisher

    The game was originally played with tokens that were cardboard images of children attached to wooden bases. Each game had 8 tokens, and their pictures were on the book that contained the questions.

    (top row, l. to r.) Sissy, Dimples, Liz and Butch

    (bottom row, l. to r.) Sonny, Buttercup, Susie and Red

    Sissy

    I can’t find the edition when publisher Milton Bradley eliminated the unsmiling player named Sissy, but I can assure you it would have been the last token picked in my family. Buttercup would have run a close second to the last.

    Take a good look at Sissy, the little boy whose two obvious distinguishing features were that he wore glasses and parted his hair down the middle like the little girl tokens.

    I remembered Jim Blanton’s essay in Southern Perspectives on the Queer Movement: Committed to Home where he talked about growing up in Gaffney, South Carolina and being called “sissy” as a child and teenager by bullies in school. Words, labels that cause pain.

    I’m sure my parents were oblivious to the subtle cultural messages being sent to me in our educational games, but for me this game was one more nail in the coffin of internalized homophobia and intentional segregation in my childhood. Never any people of color as the tokens. No one wanted to be known as a “sissy,” and how could I explain to anyone why I always picked “Butch” first?

    This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is img_20220827_150432507_hdr.jpg

    not sure where this picture of me was taken or why – 

    did I already feel different?

    Be aware of bias and labels that hurt. Be kind to each other. Be safe this weekend.

    Stay tuned.