Tag: roots

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The Shoulders We Stand On

This past Sunday, I made the familiar drive home to Conway County, and I am so very glad I did….

The first Sunday in May is always Decoration Day at Old Hickory Cemetery. For me, it’s more than just a cemetery – It is a landscape of my history as well as many blessed memories.

When I was a little girl, graves were built up for Decoration Days. Daddy would haul in dirt to put on top of his father’s (my grandfather’s) grave and use a shovel to carefully mound it up, then a rake to make it smooth and neat before we placed the flowers to decorate the grave. Today, the modern convenience of riding mowers requires flat surfaces, so the mounds are gone—but the love that shaped them remains. That kind of love never really dies; it just waits for us to come back and remember it. That’s part of what Decoration Days are about…..remembering.

It’s a beautiful, time-honored pattern. Family members and friends arrive on Saturday or early Sunday to clean and tend the graves. Then, on Sunday afternoon, everyone returns to walk the grounds, admire the colorful silk arrangements, and share stories. Eventually, we all gather under the shade trees to talk and laugh and connect and catch up. Decoration Days are also about building and maintaining connections.

This past weekend, the weather was a rare gift—temperatures were pleasant and a cool breeze was blowing instead of the May heat and humidity that is typical. It was a wonderful weekend for the event….but as I looked around, I noticed there were fewer in attendance than ever before. There were two children walking through the cemetery with their grandmother and listening eagerly as she pointed out names and shared her memories of long ago. I was glad to see it – and thankful that my family had walked me through this same cemetery so many times sharing our stories and history as well. They gave me a gift.

I feel sad to see these traditions wane, because I believe these ties to our past are so important. It’s our history. Our history gives us some of our “why.” When we know and understand the grit and the joy of those who came before us – we find a compass for our own lives…..and it can change our trajectory.

In a way, it is a privilege—one I don’t take for granted—to have so many direct ancestors in one spot. One of my friends recently told me that she doesn’t know who her ancestors were, much less where they are buried. Over 30 of mine are within a 25-mile radius of where I grew up. To have 14 direct ancestors buried within 50 yards of where I will one day lie, many many years from now… it is a priceless kind of heritage. I am grateful to my parents and family for sharing the stories with me and blessing me with the memories.

On the drive home, I turned off to head down the winding little dirt road toward the little community of Lost Corner, Arkansas to decorate the graves of my great-grandparents, Mama and Papa Scroggins, and my great-great-grandmother, Ida.

The first thing you see as you wind down the road is a neat little old building (now used as a church) that stands quiet in front of the cemetery. It serves as a church building now, but a long time ago it was a school. I have a picture of my Mam-ma, my great aunt Sylvia, and my great aunt Ethel – along with their classmates standing outside the school as children. When I’m there, I love to imagine the sights and sounds of them running and playing and wondering and growing up here.

Mama and Papa and their girls had a hard life – but also good. They worked hard – picking cotton to make a living. My Mam-ma and her sisters ran and played with the other children while their parents picked – until they were about seven years old…then they joined their parents in fields. It’s hard work. Pickers slung a cotton bag over their shoulder to drag behind them and fill with cotton as they moved down the row. My great-aunt Verna said that when she was a little girl she would pick and drag that bag until it was too heavy for her to move. Then, she would leave that row for Mama or Papa to finish while she started on a new one.

Even with all the hard work, Mama Scroggins found time for art and beauty. She was naturally clever and artistic, often cleverly repurposing things instead of throwing them away. I have two small candleholders on the piano in my living room that she made from used metal cans. She even created her own wedding ring out of a solid silver quarter. Pretty talented!

My great-aunt Verna told me that Mama Scroggins would save scraps of paper all year long. Every spring, neighbors would come asking her to make paper flowers to decorate family graves – and she would work to get them made for everyone. Think of that—in a time of such hard manual labor, she found time to be an artist. After the day’s work was done, she spent her evenings folding, twisting, and cutting “scraps” into flowers to decorate the graves at the little cemetery where she now lies. The flowers I had bought to place on her grave were silk—but maybe next year I will learn to make paper flowers just for her. I would like that. She left a legacy that I want to remember and carry with me.

We are always moving forward in this life – and that’s good – but taking the time to look back—to learn and remember and honor the people who came before us—is how we realize whose shoulders we are standing on. We didn’t get here on our own. The progress, every comfort, and the joys we enjoy today was provided to us, to some degree, by the hard work of those who picked the sharp bolls of cotton until their fingers bled, by the resourcefulness of silver-quarter rings, and the quiet beauty of paper-flower bouquets of yesterday. When we remember them, we ensure that their contributions continue to live through us.

Does your family have a “Decoration Day” tradition? Or perhaps you have a “Mama Scroggins” in your history who made something beautiful out of nothing? I would love to hear about the shoulders you stand on in the comments today.

#ThinkOnGoodThings #OldHickory #LostCorner #ConwayCounty #ArkansasHistory #DecorationDay #FamilyLegacy #MamaScroggins #Roots #BlessedMemories #StandingOnShoulders

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Decoration Days – Honoring Our Roots

In the American South, springtime means jonquils, hyacinths, lilacs, and roses; baby birds hatching, frogs croaking on the ponds, gardens being planted, Easter Sunrise Services, and Decoration Days at community cemeteries. Decoration Days have always been a part of my life. As a little girl, I would go to the cemetery with my Daddy the day before a Decoration Day. He would rake and clean the graves and then carry in soil to shovel and build them up. When he finished, each one would be raked free of grass, mounded up with fresh dirt, and carefully smoothed. Gravestones would be washed and gleaming and bright flower arrangements would be placed to adorn the headstones or the grave itself. It was hot work, but there were always others present carefully tending the graves of their own families, so it was a bit of a community social event as everyone worked to prepare the cemetery. It always looked so pretty when we left – everything mowed, and raked, and clean, and beautiful with flowers of all colors and shapes.

The next day (always a Sunday), we would go back after church, this time dressed up in our Sunday best. There was always a crowd – old friends, family members, and schoolmates my parents hadn’t seen since the last Decoration Day the year before. People traveled home from other towns and even other states. Everyone would walk around and look at the different graves, remembering those who were buried there and telling stories about the old days. Children would play (quietly – and outside the cemetery fence because it wasn’t respectful to run and play around the graves) and adults would eventually gather under the trees where the shade helped cool things down a bit. They would continue to talk and reminisce – and I always loved to listen to the stories they told and people they remembered.

There would be a short “Decoration Day” church service at 2:00. Some of the people gathered would go inside to attend and others would stay outdoors laughing and telling stories. I always heard that “back in the day” (before my time) there would be a potluck – a “dinner on the ground” where everyone brought food to share and picnic together. I’m sure people who were not raised with this tradition could think it strange to hold an annual community/family reunion in a cemetery – but to me it is a perfectly natural thing to do. After all, I was raised with it – and I think it’s a lovely tradition that celebrates our heritage….our roots.

I say often that we all stand on the shoulders of the people who came before us – and I mean that sincerely. Without the hard work and innovations of others from years past, we would not have our many modern conveniences and practices. Without them, we would not be able to live the lives we are living or accomplish the things that we do. Because of that, I love the days when I am able to pause, take some time, and look back at those who came before, learn from the memories and stories of others, and honor family members and friends who have left us.

The old tradition still continues. Today I traveled south with my mother to attend the Decoration Day at the cemetery where my Daddy is buried. Unlike those days in the past, we did not arrive a day early to clean and prepare the grave. The tradition of bringing in dirt to “mound up” the graves is gone. (It makes it so much harder for caretakers to mow that way.) Instead, we went out early this morning to clean and decorate the grave, then left to freshen up, have lunch, and return to visit with old friends and family. I still look forward to it every year. There are still so many stories to hear and so many wonderful memories to revisit.

I walked around the cemetery this afternoon admiring the flower arrangements and studying the names on the headstones. The ground was soft and uneven making walking slightly difficult, and the weather was hot and humid. Even more important, you have to carefully watch where you step to avoid the numerous small, almost hidden mounds of fire ants. Still, it’s pleasant to take time to pay respect and remember. Every year, I think about counting how many family members I have buried in that old cemetery. I always start this task and somehow never seem to finish. Today I counted 46 relatives and many more old neighbors or friends. I didn’t cover the entire cemetery so there are undoubtedly several I missed. Perhaps next year! I am who I am partly because of these people (even the ancestors I have never met), and I am grateful that I can take the time to honor them.

As I said earlier, Decoration Days may seem silly or strange to some, and I can understand that……but I am so thankful for this connection to my roots. This wonderful tradition links me to my past, strengthens bonds of family and friends here today, and impacts the future because of the firm foundations it provides.