Remembering My Grandma

The early morning of September 11, 2012, my grandmother was called home.  Sophie Elizabeth Smith-Holland was born in Mississippi, later moving to Louisiana where she met and married J.C. Holland of East Carrol Parish.

Growing up in Arkansas I didn't see much of my grandmother except on holidays or when she would come to visit.  I didn't call her grandma.  To me, she was "Nanaw."  It was a name I had given her as a child and it stuck.  I remember her as a strong, confident individual.  She was not afraid to speak her mind.  She didn't care if she stepped on your toes and she certainly didn't sugar coat anything.  Right was right and she wasn't afraid to tell it like it was.  I remember stocking up on a Rice Krispies, Coca-Colas and snack cakes when she came to visit.

My grandparents had a farm in Bastrop, LA.  I can remember going down there often.  I can remember this old tree sitting on a small hill where my cousin and I would play house in the afternoons.  Or in the fall - raking a big pile of leaves just to jump into them.  Riding horses.  Racing go-karts.  Crammed into that tiny farmhouse on Christmas.  Sitting at the bar in the kitchen coloring - all the cousins lined up on the bar stool.  Or sitting on the front porch eating an ice cream cone from the Cream Machine.  One thing was for sure.  They may not have had much, but they were rich in family, friends and love.  And quite honest we may not have had a lot, but none of us knew any different.

After my grandfather passed away, she moved into an apartment complex for seniors.  And we thought the farmhouse was tiny!!!!  I remember sneaking my dog in the back stairwell and playing football in the back with my cousins; tossing a slinky down the stairs.  (Us kids were very much bored there.)  She left there and moved into another apartment.  Not sure if it was much bigger, but it was more like she had her own house.  She lived by herself until her early 90's before she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's.  I am not sure at what point during her time in her apartment-living that I became interested in genealogy.  My mother had started researching the Holland line before I was born but never got anywhere due to lack of information.  I remember arming myself with a tape recorder and a set of questions and just started asking her questions.  The one thing I can remember off the top of my head was her telling me that growing up she was given the task of making biscuits.  She had a chair that she sat the bowl in and made them b/c she was too short to reach the counter.  Everyone worked in the field and she would make biscuits.  She took us to Red Wing Cemetery (which is dubbed "Holland's Cemetery") in East Carrol Parish.  I had a camera and began taking pictures of the tombstones so I could piece us together.  She took us by old homes where friends and family had lived.  She told us about a family cemetery out in the woods where unmarked graves were.  I loved to hear her tell stories.  I just wish I could remember them all.  (Thank goodness I have notes in my notebook of them!)

She loved Southern Gospel Music and often kept my dad's group in her tape player.  I do remember once she had The Cathedrals in there when we came to see her.  I don't remember what the album was, but it had "Can He, Could He, Would He" on it and I kept listening to it over and over again.  She sent the tape home with me.  I loved her macaroni and cheese.  It was very simple but it was always a treat.  (We just got the boxed stuff at home!)  She was known for her dumplings and her rolls and she made sure to have them at any event or gathering.  She also made a coconut cake that took 3 days to make.  How anyone could wait that long, I couldn't tell you!

She was a very sweet woman.  She was giving and a strong willed Christian.  She hated "dang" and any other slang-curse word.  She wouldn't have it.  She was giving and a wonderful role model for any young woman.  She definitely was someone to look up to!

This morning Heaven gained a beautiful soul this morning. She was a wonderful woman, strong and sweet, and I was proud to call her my grandma. She loved her kids, her grandchildren and her great-grandchildren with all she had. She worked hard, loved harder. Ninety-seven years just wasn't enough. Nanaw, know that you are eternally loved and you will forever be missed, but, rest assured, we will meet again on the other side