My family has roots in Tennessee and Illinois. Stories were told and songs were sung while sitting on Ma and Pa Coats’ front porch, or sweeping the kitchen floor with Great Aunt Suzie. I didn’t realize how much my childhood would influence my life, until I became a parent, preschool teacher, grandmother and great grandmother.
After twenty-five years of teaching, my husband and I retired and moved to Florida, where I took classes on writing, poetry, and became involved in Storytelling Circle. I found them interesting (especially since there was no grading) and challenging, but never dreamed them, my roots, and being a freelance storyteller would lead to actually self-publishing CDs and books.
Belinda has no voice in her parent’s divorce. using her creativity, she shows everyone in her family: the real, the step, and the half how she feels. Although this is a children’s book, it is a must read for adults.
This book has four interactive stories to read while snuggling with your child, or teaching in a classroom.
This was my first attempt at writing and publishing an adult book, My goal was to write one consisting of my original stories, songs, and poems I wrote as I believed it would be my last.
In this book, you may find yourself playing with a childhood friend, cooking along with your grandmother, praising God, doubting God, the joys and trials of parenting, or sitting along the bedside of an aging parent.
As a preschool teacher, I wrote songs and re-told tales to go along with our units, which I shared with those in my workshops at Early Childhood Conferences. Many attendees requested audio of these, which led to the publication of my first CD.
It didn’t take long to discover a second CD was needed. Like the first one, one side features stories, and the other side contains songs.
These CDs are no longer available for purchase, but you can listen to them for free on SoundCloud.
At a family reunion, Katherine receives a book detailing her family’s heritage. As she reads through it, she uncovers stories of resilient women spanning generations, from the pre-Civil War era to Vietnam. Each woman played a vital role in shaping her family’s legacy of spies, fighting for social injustice, single parenting, diseases, learning difficulties, wars and even murder. Despite their diverse backgrounds, these women shared a common purpose: an unwavering commitment to provide for and protect the ones they loved, no matter the cost.
My cover designer/formatter is getting closer to having my book, “The Women from Mockingbird Hill” available for publication in both paperback and ebook formats. In the meantime, enjoy reading the first section.
THE REUNION
The Gracious Host
January 2000
The first person Louise contacted regarding her decision to host the family reunion this coming June was her niece Katherine, who greeted the news with great excitement. Katherine loved her aunt’s carefree approach to life. Louise would not be grouped into the little sit-and-smile Southern ladies. In search of adventures, she traveled the world. Her husband, Willie, not only supported her, but also encouraged her to follow her own path. She let nothing deter her, pursuing her goals, even to the disapproval from some family members.
Although Louise had no children of her own, she was a motherly figure to many. But her niece, Katherine, held a special place in her heart. Louise recognized her struggle, trying to fit into the family, as she once did. She knew firsthand of their cruel comments and took it upon herself to be Katherine’s protector.
When June arrived, Katherine drove to her Aunt Louise’s home in Columbia, Tennessee, singing songs and playing “I Spy” with her daughter Lizzie. When they arrived, she parked her car in the sparse grassy area behind the weathered barn that once held tobacco for drying, along with the others who drove from Tennessee, Alabama, North Carolina, and Illinois.
The adults unpacked their covered dishes, placing them onto one of the twelve tables made from plywood, laying on top of sawhorses. Bed sheets of various colors and prints served as tablecloths. Enticing smells of fried chicken, okra, corn, navy beans, green beans, black-eyed peas, cornbread, biscuits, pies, and cakes filled the air.
The children eagerly searched for Uncle Roy, the maker of the homemade ice cream. Discovering him was an effortless task, for he always sang, “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean,” while preparing his ingredients. Once discovering his location, the children joined him in song, standing in line, waiting their turn to crank the handle on the wooden churner. Even though Uncle Roy knew their names, he stroked his wiry, coarse, gray beard that looked like the hair on the chin of a goat and asked, ““Whut’s yer name, young’un?”
Upon approaching their turn, each one yelled their name to Uncle Roy making sure he heard it because of his rule: No tern’n. No deezert. They didn’t want to be without ice cream.
Entertainment was a big part of the reunion. When Uncle Ollie picked up his fiddle to play “Turkey in the Straw,” those who brought instruments joined in while others sang along or danced.
Thirty minutes into the festivities, Louise stood on top of a chair with the dinner bell, hitting the three sides. The clanging of it indicated it was time to head to the tables.
The oldest family members sat on unmatched wooden chairs. Everyone else found a seat on the two-by-ten pieces of wood placed on concrete blocks. As soon as everyone had taken their seats, Louise’s husband and his two cousins carried the hog they’d been roasting since early morning to the table. Seeing Uncle Pat stand up, everyone became silent. They all held hands, bowing their heads as he blessed the meal. Each person mumbled under their breath that he remembered he wasn’t preaching, and that his prayer be a short one.
Once hearing Uncle Pat say, “Amen,” passing of the food began. Louise observed most had finished their meals, when she heard some men say, “I ate too much. I’m ’bout ta pop,” while rubbing their bellies, she took this opportunity to carry out her surprise. Not wanting anyone to fall asleep, she stood up, announcing that everyone needed to follow her to the barn. No one questioned Louis when she gave directions.
With a gesture of her hand, she guided each kin group to sit on their assigned bales of hay as they entered the barn. Louise thought this atmosphere added ambiance to the revealing of her project. She then walked to the front of the barn, standing tall and confident, as though holding the position of headteacher and everyone else her students.
“Since our last reunion, I have done some intensive research into our heritage, which I compiled into a book. I have one for each family.”
Many smiled and nodded their heads at each other, giving their approval.
Not being able to contain her eagerness while handing them a book, Louise shared little tidbits of her findings with each kin group. Her research put a different light on the stories told throughout the years. The older family members stopped smiling. They believed certain stories should stay a secret and not tarnish the family name—a sentiment Louise did not share.
Louise approached Katherine, handing her a book. On the front in bold, golden letters, she read the title:
Willis – Thornton – Stanford – Shaw
A Quick Peek
Katherine expected Aunt Louise to give a slight insight of her family, as she had done for others. She did not. Instead, she winked at her and with a little devious smile said, “Hey, darlin, you’re going to love the story of Elizabeth in the section under Henry Parker Shaw.”
“Thank you, Aunt Louise. I can’t wait to read it.”
“When you get done with the book, you and I must talk.”
“I look forward to that, but it may take a while. I don’t get a lot of time to myself, taking care of Lizzie.”
“Take as much time as you need,” said Louise, continuing to hand out books to the others who dared to stay.
Katherine skimmed through the section on Elizabeth. She paused when something caught her eye: the words “out of wedlock” and “adoption.”
The Discovery
After returning to North Carolina, Katherine gave herself a few days before setting aside time to read with no distraction, mainly Lizzie, who was at the park with Mason. She poured herself a cup of coffee, then headed to the front porch. Sitting on the red and beige striped cushion on the oversized, light brown wicker rocker, she opened the book to find the section entitled: Elizabeth.
What she discovered was shocking and amazing. Her sixth great grandmother, Elizabeth Jane Piller had a daughter, Clara Rose. Written in the space for the father’s name was: Unknown. She and Elizabeth had something in common. Neither of them was married when they had their daughters.
Upon further reading, she discovered Elizabeth married a man named Henry Parker Shaw who adopted Clara Rose. No legal adoption documents existed, except for a page that appeared to be a part of a bible, dated in the 1800s. Multiple reproductions made it difficult to read, but for Katherine, it served as enough proof that the stories of the family’s pure heritage were embellished. She couldn’t help but laugh, imagining the expression on the faces of the relatives who looked down on her, with their secrets being revealed.
Katherine’s thoughts turned back to Elizabeth, wondering how she survived living in a time when proper people did not openly discuss adoption or children being born out of wedlock. How did she survive the looks, the whispers, finger pointing, the name calling not only of her but that of her daughter?
“After all these years, some views remain unchanged,” Katherine snickered out loud.
Wanting to learn more about her heritage, Katherine continued reading, this time starting at the beginning of the book. On the first page, she saw a picture of two women. Under the picture of the woman on the left side was written Caroline Marie Thornton. Written underneath the picture of the woman on the right was Annie Stanford-Thornton.
Caroline was white. Annie was not.