That Ol' Fam Damily! JD Hollon

JD Hollon was born 30 March 1900 in Rogers, Bell, Texas.  The first-born son of Edward Jesse Hollon, JD was apparently named after his grandfather, James Deborah Holland--symbolically, at least.  Fortunately, the feminine name Deborah never stuck with JD.  In fact, the simplicity of those apparent initials were his full legal name! 

JD is what appeared on census records.  JD is the name he used to enlist for the draft during WW I.  JD is what everyone called him, unless they used his nickname "Bud."  (Everyone, that is, except his wife, Lillian, who must not have liked the idea of using initials for a name.  She decided his name should be Jack, and she was the only one who ever called him that.)

During WW I in 1918

JD was my great uncle, meaning that he was the brother of my grandmother Lois.  And while I've never met him, I feel particularly drawn to him for a variety of reasons.

First, I have just always had an impression that he was a good kid, which led to him becoming a good man.  Just the fact that JD went around life being called "Bud" says alot to me.  If he were a stinker, he couldn't possibly have earned the respect of the masses in being afforded the privilege of being called "Bud." 

Secondly, my heart tells me that he was very much like his father, Edward Jesse Hollon: industrious and hard-working; loving, kind, and affectionate as a husband; a helpful companion; playful and strong as a father and provider; and not given to endless self-pity or ridicule of self or others.

Third, during interviews with my great Aunt Elba (JD's youngest sister), I could just see her sparkle at the mention of his name and the recollection of memories involving him.  She was about 15 or 16 when he died, so it's not like she was too young to recall anything.  Elba just simply adored JD, and by the way she told things, you could almost feel the excitement still lingering in the air from when JD was around all those years ago.  People just really thought he was something else.

And, finally, I've simply had a spiritual tugging at me to pay attention to JD.  It's never been anything grandiose.  Never any whistles or papers flying.  Never any dreams.  Just some warm feelings continuing to fill me through the years, along with gentle, persistent reminders of the few images I've been given of the family JD left behind while in his prime.

It was the 10th of March 1931 in Houston, Texas.  JD was nearly 31 years old.

A brief newspaper clip tells the story:

". . . J. D. Holland, truck driver of Alvin, who was fatally injured Tuesday morning when his truck was hit by a Missouri Pacific passenger train on St. Emmanuel, near Texas. Holland died Tuesday afternoon in St. Joseph's infirmary. Holland was caught in the wreckage of his truck when it was hit by Missouri Pacific train No. 9, fast train from New Orleans. The train was backing into the station at a slow rate of speed."

The Houston Chronicle, Vol. 30, No. 149, pg. 1, Col. 5, and pg. 16, Col. 7. Wed., March 11, 1931. Repository: Houston Public Library, 500 McKinney, Houston, Texas 77002.

That's all that was said.  More details were given to the disposition of the train than to JD.  Within hours, the glorious boy who turned into a such a promising man was gone, and the remaining wreckage was emotionally incalculable.

A few years before he died, JD married Lillian Brooks and had two little boys.  The first one was named Jack and the other was named Billy.  Both grew to live full, long lives.  Jack was 86 when he finally passed away in 2007; Billy was 79 when he died in 2001.  No doubt, they longed for their father and what could have been but wasn't--some days more than others--during all those many years of living.  Lillian, too, must have ached for her husband, lost after far too few years together.

I would have loved to have known this man and his sweet family!