5 minute read
Capture Your Stories
Holidays are a great foundation for rich family tales. 2020 has provided enough material for years of sharing the good times, bad times and those that make you say, “What The Heck?” Hope you will join me in treasuring this special season and CAPTURE YOUR STORIES.
BY CHERIE BUCKNER-WEBB
First, I wanna tell you about my mother, Dorothy. Dorothy was the daughter of Pearl Emiline Johnson and Luther Elmore Johnson.
The sun shown longer the day she was born. The stars twinkled brighter the night she was born. My Grandfather was in love with that green-eyed colored girl. My Grandmother declared that Gramps brought half of Van Buren, Arkansas, home to see her that day … much to my grandmother’s great displeasure. You see, my grandfather was a very outgoing man. My grandmother, not so much. And after seven children, she really had a little attitude.
Dorothy was indeed a beautiful child, and my Grandfather talked about her all the time and her brothers and sisters just loved her like crazy and spoiled her rotten! Even when she was 70 years old, and would act up, they all just said in gentle, loving tones, “She’s the baby, we have to look after Dot.”
Dot was sent to live with her sister LeoDell Vivian in Minidoka, Idaho, not far from the internment camp. You know, I’m thinking my grandmother really had some attitude about my momma. I mean, she sent her baby girl to live with her older sister in Idaho! Nanny contended it was because Aunt Dell was lonely-- but really? Aunt Dell had moved to Idaho because she had been sweptoff-her-feet-happy-in-love and married a wonderful railroad man with a good job. Of course, she hadn’t been to Minidoka before she married him. So yes, indeed, that little green-eyed colored girl went to elementary school in Minidoka.
Before long, Aunt Dell ran across another handsome, single, Black man who also had a good job with the railroad based in Pocatello. She quickly wrote to her older sister, Florence Ellen Eugenia (I swear, I couldn’t make up these names), and told her to come quick! Aunt Ellen took the first train out of Van Buren. They met, fell in love, married and was soon spreading the gospel of Idaho to the rest of the family back home.
And so it was the Johnsons started their westward migration. Many of the children came across with family members who were pullman porters so they could ride the train for free. I tell you some of them really had to scrunch up and make themselves look small for that long, free ride.
Finally, most of the family had moved to Boise, except the patriarch, Grandpa Johnson, who by then was referred to Pistol Johnson, (another story), my uncle Thomas Russell Johnson, (one cool name in the family), who later became known as Tommy Johnson, later still, Kat Johnson, then just Cat, as in cat burglar. (Yep, another story.) They joined up with a couple of Gramps’s buddies to hop a freight train or two to Idaho, which wasn’t exactly legal or safe. But they did just fine. Until they hit Salt Lake City. That’s where the police discovered them and took them straight to jail.
There was a blessing, however, according to Gramps. That night was bitter cold and they surely would have frozen to death if the police hadn’t caught them. This blessing became the basis of a story embellished with each recitation for generations. Gramps just had a way of adding a little yeast to every telling and speaking of that night, as he told it, he was so humbled in his cell that he prayed mightily. He prayed and prayed and prayed some more. Just let me say, my grandfather could pray! The jailer was so touched by Gramp’s fervent prayers and genuine remorse that he called him, “Mister Johnson.” That caught my grandfather’s attention in a big way- a White man calling a Black man, “Mister.” The jailer said, “Mister Johnson, I know this is your son. And I know you are trying to get to your new home and join your family. If you promise never to ride a train without a ticket again, I will let you go.” Grandpa said he wanted to holler, but he was cool. “Oh, bless you. Just bless you and bless your family and bless your cousins. Bless your mother, bless your home, and your children.” He was just blessing up a storm – cuz Grandpa was good. So the jailer let them go and my dear Grandfather left arm in arm with friends and his son, walking down the street, praising God and then jumped the next freight train they could find to Boise, Idaho. At last, the whole Johnson family, except those in the military, arrived in Boise and my green-eyed momma finally got to move out of Minidoka. Then there were like ten Black people in Boise. Hallelujah, hallelujah!
