Recollections written by Mildred Smith Clements, 1991:
I do remember "Mama", being one of her fifteen grandchildren. She was "Mama" to me, Virginia and Williams, and "Grandmother" to the other grandchildren.
I passed a house today near Tarrant, Alabama, that had two "elephant ear" plants, one on each side of the front steps, and with the recent rains we've had, these were giant ears! I can remember two homes in Lineville, four homes in Birmingham, and a home in Enterprise where we lived, and at each move Mama managed to have "elephant ears" at the back door. I can see her now ... opening the back screen and throwing the dish water on those big green leaves. She also carried the dishwater to the garden at times and to potted plants (some in syrup buckets) at various locations around the house.
Mama had the glossiest black hair I've ever seen. The little curls at the nape of the neck and round her ears (sometimes called drake tails) were so pretty. I was hopeful I might inherit a curl or two, but suppose I will continue to get my curls from the local hair dresser.
Mama was not a strict disciplinarian, in fact she just was not a disciplinarian at all. If she became aware that you were in trouble with Mother Pearl, she immediately needed your help in the garden, or she needed you to throw a little corn out to the chickens ... anything to remove you from the battle area. Or, she would put her dear hand to your temple and say in he low, concerned voice, "Pearl, I believe Billie has a little fever, she just hasn't felt good since she got up."
I can't remember her being even the least angry or fractious in my 21 years of life with her. She always found something nice to say to you, or even to someone else about you in your hearing. She told me at many occasions during my teen years (I was pitifully skinny, with straight hair that no curling iron could curl) "Billie, you are making a mighty pretty girl." I found out later she also told sister Jenny and four of Aunt Lavada's daughters the same thing. I am sure that Norine was fed from the same spoon several times in her life.
Mama always believed if you could "eat a little something" you could overcome any physical illness, or any feeling of despondency. Also, she carried food to any neighbor who might be ill, or grieving over a lost one, or just to share with a friend. Mother told us of Mama's care and concern for anyone in need. Uncle Allie had contracted tuberculosis during his travels with the Riverside Tailoring Company, and had spent his last few years in the West, never coming home after being diagnosed with the dreaded TB. He died at age 33. Of course her Mother's heart went out to anyone in similar circumstances. A black man living in the negro section, to the right of the overhead Bridge, was being cared for by his mother, quarantined by the medical people in Lineville and by neighbors. Mama would pack a basket of food, sometimes a syrup cake, cooked vegetables from the garden, an egg custard, and walk to that family's home. She went many times in spite of criticism from neighbors and some reservations from her family.
We moved into a rental home in 1933 in Birmingham, on Powell Street. The vegetable truck (called by many the "Dago Truck") came by each day, a rolling store really. The driver told Mama that the lady-next-door had had all her teeth pulled and was "not doing well at all". We had only been there a few days and Mama did not know Mrs. Fitzpatrick, but that presented no problem to Mama. She bought some turnip greens, took them in and cooked them, made some of her cornbread or egg bread, and carried a large bowl of pot-likker and some of the cornbread next door to Mrs. Fitzpatrick. Some years later Mrs. Fitzpatrick told me, "Your sainted grandmother sat beside my bed and fed me that pot-likker, spoonful by spoonful. She saved my life."
Mama had so much love to give, and was willing to love, expecting nothing in return. She was never happier than when her children or grandchildren were with her. She had no other life in my lifetime except through her family. And, she could keep a secret! She was the only family member that I let read my love letters, the others would have blabbed them to everyone!
Mama walked with short mincing steps ... sorta prissy. She was called "the pretty Mrs. Smith" and she was just that. She had one suitor "come calling" one day not too long after Grandpa died. A Mr. Russell who lived on "down the road" toward Shinbone Valley drove up in his buggy one morning, came walking up the front walk and said, "Little girl, run get your Grandmother." I did, then Pearl made me come inside. Mama didn't stay long on the porch. She came in and with twinkling eyes said "I had to tell Mr. Russell that I wasn't interested in how much land he had, that I had more than I could pay taxes on now."
I wish Mama could know how much we, who remember her devotion to us, love and revere her memory. I wish she could be with us in our comfortable homes, could see her great-grandchildren, and they could see and know her ... this beautiful woman who lived her 74 years caring for her invalid Mother for many years, also her invalid Mother-in-law, her own children, and their children. I never knew whether we lived with her or she lived with us, I only know she loved me and I loved her.
--- Mildred "Billie" Smith Clements, 26 May 1991