Infinite Power of Hope

It was a particularly difficult period.  One whom I deeply love was waning.  This October 2008 General Conference would prove instrumental and timely in ushering forth words of hope, comfort, and poignant counsel.  During the closing address of the first session of Saturday conference, these grand words were spoken by President Dieter F. Uchtdorf:

And to all who suffer—to all who feel discouraged, worried, or lonely—I say with love and deep concern for you, never give in.

Never surrender.

Never allow despair to overcome your spirit.

Embrace and rely upon the Hope of Israel, for the love of the Son of God pierces all darkness, softens all sorrow, and gladdens every heart.

CLICK HERE FOR FULL CONFERENCE ADDRESS

Gratefully, this Hope — this Love — provided a lifeline when darkness dared to completely suffocate one whom I love.  Hope has done the same for me many times. Why not for you? Why not for us all . . . again?

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!

That Ol' Fam Damily! Edward Jesse Hollon

Edward Jesse Hollon was my maternal great-grandfather.  Facts about the early beginnings of his life are quite varied.  The date seems to be clear enough: 6 Feb 1876.  However, some sources state he was born in Alabama; others say Texas.  Some say his father was born in Georgia; others say North Carolina.  At least one report states that Edward was christened Baptist and that his father, James Deborah Holland (note spelling variation) was a plantation owner who brought his family to Texas when Edward was about six months old. While evidence of the nationality of James Deborah Holland has not yet been found, the last name strongly suggests his heritage. It is also said that Edward's mother, Martha Kinsel, was Pennsylvania Dutch.

As a young adult, Edward may have been a sharecropper. After marrying in the fall of 1896 at age 20, it is believed Edward and his nearly 18 year-old bride, Winnie Laura Dragoo (known just as Laura to most), resided for a few years in Temple, Bell, Texas.

Their Wedding Day

16 September 1896 - Cameron, Texas

In the late 1800s and early 1900s, rice was a dependable cash crop in Louisiana and Texas. Sometime in the early 1900s, Edward left his former living of picking cotton (possibly with Laura) and earned the position of Superintendent of the Kinchelo Irrigation Company in Wharton County, Texas. There, the Colorado River splits the towns of Wharton and Glen Flora, both of which are among birthplaces listed for a number of the children. Edward and his young family traveled from Texas to Louisiana sometime between March 1900 and June 1902, but only stayed for a short period before returning to Texas again.

Edward was Superintendent of the Kinchelo Irrigation Company
in Wharton County, Texas around the early 1900s.
There, the Colorado River splits the towns of Wharton and Glen Flora.

Winnie Laura Dragoo Hollon and Edward Jesse Hollon,
still very much in love.
They look to be in their mid- to late-30s.

While in Louisiana, the third child born to Edward and Laura was Bonnie Melvina (named after Laura's mother, Melvina). All eight of the other nine children were born in Texas. As Elba Hollon Hunter humorously recalls, in social circles, Bonnie often proudly revealed her uniqueness in being born in Crowley, Louisiana. (Apparently, Crowley, Louisiana was a booming area during this period. In fact, Dragoo and Tobey family lines are tied to Crowley along with the Hollon line.)

All Nine Hollon Children

Olma Inez (1898–1992)

J.D., or "Bud" (1900–1931)

Bonnie Melvina (1902–1985)

MayDell Jesse (1904–1990)

Lois Laura (1907–1957) -
MY GRANDMOTHER

Helen Lucille (1909–2003)

Edward A.C., or "Tooter" (1911–1995)

Elba Genevieve (1915 – )

Redell Pierce (1917–1993)

In addition to the areas lived in as noted by the children's birthplaces, Helen Hollon Andrews states that the family lived and schooled in Velasco, Texas while her father worked as Superintendent of the Freeport sulfur mines. (Edward's son, J.D., also worked at the mines during this period.) Considered part of the middle class at the time, the family rented a two-story, eleven-room home and is said to have purchased one of the first line of Ford cars built.

Referencing the period before Edward Jesse Hollon's death, daughter Helen states that her father was one day pumping water from the well near the family's house when the handle flew up and hit him in the lip.  Elba thought that the accident with the pump handle actually happened in one of the Kinchelo fields.  Whichever the true story, the lip did not heal, which prompted Edward to pursue medical advice and attention from a nearby doctor. He was sent to Marlin, Texas to seek relief for the injury through hot mineral bath treatments at the Majestic Bath House Sanatorium and Hot Well Pavilion. Unfortunately, the treatments were taken to no avail.

While at the Sanatorium, Edward wrote the following to Laura in a letter:

Marlin, Texas

January 3, 1917

Well my dear darling wife will drop you a few lines this morning to let you know how I am. I thought I would have got a letter from you this morning but did not get one this morning so will write you a few words and am sorry to say I am worse dear. I have to get operated on this evening. I think it is the only thing I can do. I am getting worse all the time. I can't sleep no more and am suffering death darling. I hate to write this to you but you said to tell you the truth but don't you be uneasy. I think it will be alright. When you go to bed tonight kneel down on your loving knees and ask the good Lord to help us darling. If you can pay day you had better send me a little more money for my money is getting low. Don't discourage the children. Try and show them the bright side all the time for I think I will be alright. Now darling I can't write much this morning. I feel so bad. I will try and write more next time. Maybe I will feel better then darling. Write to me often if I don't write. You don't know how proud I am to get your letter from home darling. You would not hardly know me I am so poor. I don't think I would weigh 140 pounds. I hate to look in the glass. Well I had better not tell you anything else for I know you have got enough to bother you now. Well I will have to close with a sad heart. Write soon and a long letter to your poor afflicted boy. Kiss them darling children for me and goodbye until we meet again and may God be with you all is my prayer.

E. J. H.

 
Edward also sought medical attention from the reputed Scott and White hospital in Temple, Texas. There, he learned that the freak accident with the pump was the unfortunate beginning of melanoma cancer of the face. Within the next ten months or so, cancer spread from his lip and ate much of his face, including his eyes, cheeks, and nose. Only his jawbone remained substantive. 

Laura cared for him constantly.  As Edward loved his children and wished to visit with them, Laura carefully worked to make him presentable by placing cotton in the cavities of his face.

Finally, at the age of 41, Edward died.  The date was 2 November 1917.  Twenty-one days later, Laura gave birth to their last son, Redell Pierce Hollon. 

Laura and her two youngest children, Elba and Tooter, traveled by train to attend Edward's funeral. Inez tried to make it in time, but weather and/or a washed-out bridge prevented her attendance. (Inez, age 19, was still newly wed to Pierce Barrow at the time of her father's death.)  It appears that not all of the children were able to make the trip, most likely because of the difficulty and expense of travel in those days.

Edward is buried in South Elm Cemetery near Buckholts, Texas, just west of C.R. 116 on 166A. The gravestones of James Deborah Holland and Edward Jesse Hollon stand tall at the front of the cemetery like sentinels. Edward's white gravestone is a "Woodsman of the World" marker and looks like a tree.

Postscript:  Back in 2001, I made a family history trek through Texas and Oklahoma that lasted about two weeks.  On a particular Friday, I spent an enormous amount of time researching the area where the Tobey homestead and cemetery are located.  As a result, I lost some much needed time to travel some 1.5 hours to the Cameron, Texas Courthouse to obtain copies of several old records and to identify the locations of grave markers that I needed, including the one pictured here belonging to EJ Hollon.  As this was a government-run business, if I didn't get these needed items by 5:00 pm, I would have to stay the entire weekend until opening time on Monday, or go without the desired records.

I arrived at the courthouse counter at 4:45pm.

After stating what I was looking for, and after not-so-patiently, but earnestly acknowledging that "Yes, I realize that you are closing at 5:00.  That is why I am in need of your assistance."--I was led to the records room.  I was told that most of the records I was looking for had burned in a massive courthouse fire.  I was deflated.  Some records remained, however, and so I was pointed to the journals for these.  Of particular interest, I scoured for any journal entry that showed evidence of the marriage of Edward Jesse Hollon and Winnie Laura Dragoo. 

It is not an easy process to find these old records.  The lady who had led me to the room kept asking me questions from the room next to mine, all the while as I was trying to concentrate on the task at hand.  "What was the groom's name?" and "What date did you say?" and "Did you say Dragoo was the bride's name?"  and  "Did you say you were a great-great granddaughter?" 

I thought, Criminy!  I only have 15 minutes, lady!  And I still need to get the cemetery locations!

And then I hear, "Ahhhhh . . . here it is!"  And she comes towards me.  I continue to look desperately for that blasted illegible journal entry, but she interrupts anyway.  She starts telling me that back in those early days, when couples were married, they either didn't have the luxury of time on their side to be able to wait for legal documents to be completed, or they simply didn't want to wait.  So, they would start their life adventure together, seldom returning to the county seats again for their marriage certificates due to the expense and harsh conditions of travel by wagon and horses.  Besides, in those times, other people took your word for it that you were married.  No one asked for legal proof.

"So," she said, handing me a piece of paper, "here is the original marriage certificate belonging to Laura and Edward.  They never returned to pick it up.  And, as you are a direct descendant, you are allowed to have it."

I was speechless and floored.  My eyes filled to the brims with tears.  I did not hug her, but I should have.  I was just too overcome with the enormity of the emotion of it all to even begin to know how to take it all in.  But every time--and I mean EVERY time--that I recall the fullness of the scene, my eyes fill with tears again, and my throat swells like it is doing now, and my heart expands beyond its previous bounds, finding room yet again for the gratitude that I felt then and now for the mercy and love of the Lord for each of us.

Truly, this work--this moving and redeeming Spirit of Elijah, has an indescribable way of turning the hearts of the fathers to the children, and that of the children to the fathers--even when we have never met!  I've felt it.  I know it happens.  It is real.  It is unconquerable, because all that would try to conquer it has already been overcome by the Savior of us all, even Jesus Christ.  It's just really quite amazing to consider when you take a few serious moments to reflect and remember.

That Ol' Fam Damily! Andrew Crawford Dragoo: Will He Ever Get a Headstone?

I've been trying to sort through the TOBY / TOBEY portion of my family line.  To my surprise, I learned that I have some sort of ties to Francis Cooke, Mayflower voyager.  More on that later if I find out anything WOWZA-like.  Researching this highly confusing, tedious, and prolific Toby line (26 children by one father, for example) is an exhausting process.  It is also one that necessarily must touch upon the the DRAGOO line as well.  In the process, I decided to write up one direct ancestor's life history as best I could. See what you think.

Perhaps some of you are not at all interested in family history stories.  If that is the case, skip this one.  Pearls and all that, ya know.  

Andrew Crawford Dragoo about 1906

He worked then on a ranch near San Angelo, Texas

I have a soft place in my heart for this nomadic ancestor of mine -- Andrew Crawford Dragoo. He is my great-great grandfather on my mother's side. In fact, he reminds me in a lot of ways of the lifestyle my mom and I led when I was younger, and I bet she would have really liked imagining things about him if we had sat down together to rifle through the few details discovered about him.

In sorting through these details, I have developed a better idea about who he was and have written them down so that SOMEONE will remember, even if that someone is only me. There isn't much to share, but what is here paints enough of a portrait for one to figure out some of the kind of life he lived, some of the sorrows he felt, some of the weight he carried, some of the troubles he imposed upon others, and maybe even some of what he might still be granted through the grace and love of another.

Andrew Crawford Dragoo was born in 1850 in Texas and appears to have never left Texas. When young, Andrew worked on ranches to support his sisters (or half-sisters), who were "boarded out."  Andrew was also the foreman of the Ford ranch at some time in San Angelo, Texas. He worked there for G. Rawley White. Dixie Stogner (of the Dennis line) also states that family stories discussed through the years declare Andrew was a gunfighter, known to many as "Doc."

Andrew married at age 27; his bride was 15. Trouble in the marriage arose quickly. Melvina "Viney" (Toby) Dragoo and Andrew Crawford Dragoo separated before their second child was born. The story passed down from Melvina to other family members is that while living at Oakalla, Burnet, Texas, and while their first child, Winnie Laura, was still a toddler, Melvina was pregnant. (Melvina would have been about 17 at the time, and Andrew Crawford would have been around 29.)

One night, Andrew had several of his men friends over to the house visiting, playing cards and gambling. After they left, Melvina told him that she didn't want them there at the house again if they were going to gamble; if they did gamble, she would leave him. Apparently, all this gambling had happened quite a few times before; in fact, Andrew seemed to have had a reputation for gambling that no one wanted to publicly acknowledge.

Well, a few evenings later, Andrew invited some friends back to the house and the gambling was repeated. True to her word, Melvina picked Winnie Laura up, went out of the house, and walked a short distance to the nearby Toby homestead. She stayed there with her parents, at least until her son, Andrew Nathaniel, was born.  It was in this Toby homestead that Melvina, Winnie Laura, and Andrew Nathaniel were each born.  This historic dwelling, built in 1875 by Melvina's father, Nathaniel Wheeler Toby, was still standing and being used as a home at this writing (in 2009).

When their daughter, Winnie Laura, was four years old (about 1882), Andrew and Melvina divorced.  Soon afterwards, Melvina married James Amos, a good man, and over time, bore another 10 children.  But, Andrew declared that he "never loved but one woman, and that was 'Viney'" and refused to remarry following his divorce.

He shifted around from relative to relative in West Texas.  The pattern was about the same wherever he went.  He stayed the longest with one nephew, Bill (son of William Dragoo) in the area of Santa Ana and Robert Lee in West Texas.  Then, after coming up for a "short visit" with his half-sister, Eliza Jane, Andrew ended up staying for two years.  He reported that he had no where else to go. At the time, Eliza was living with her daughter Viola and her family.  Later on, Andrew moved on to live for a while with Perry, the son of another half-sister, Minerva.

In 1937, Andrew Crawford Dragoo became so old and ill that his son, Andrew Nathaniel Dragoo, was asked to come and pick him up to take him back to Sinton, Texas. Nathaniel Osborn Dragoo (Andrew Nathaniel's oldest son) was chosen to go along for the trip. Andrew Nathaniel's wife, Sallie, was asked to be caretaker, which responsibility she assumed for the next two years before Andrew Crawford Dragoo's death in 1939 at the age of 88.

The informant for Andrew's death certificate was his son. Of interest, the certificate states that Andrew was a retired barber and that the principle cause of death was senility.  Andrew is buried in the Sinton Cemetery, Block 6, Lot 204, in Sinton, Texas.

He never received a headstone.  In its place, he was given a metal marker, which even misspelled his name as "Mr. Oragoo," rather than listing with some semblance of Andrew Crawford Dragoo.  One day, I hope to fix this wrong.

Divorce didn't keep everyone apart forever. 

Here is a family portrait in later years.

Winnie Laura Dragoo Hollon (my great grandmother),

Melvina Toby Dragoo Amos (my gg-grandmother),

Andrew Crawford Dragoo (my gg-grandfather),

and Andrew Nathaniel Dragoo (my great grand uncle).

Begin It Now

Every once in a while, you come across a quote that just pops you between the eyes, bonks you on the head, sends chills up some part of your body, fills your insides with some sort of inspiration, or any combination of the above--then makes you just want to act right then and there to do something monumental.  That's what happened to me in mid-August 1992.

I was discussing a little bit of everyday life with an associate.  I worked at a place called Aristocrat Printing & Design in Tucson, Arizona.  She worked at Alpha Graphics.  Our shop often did specialty work for her shop and I was called upon to consult with her on various projects.  We became rather decent friends, as work friends go. 

And so it happened that one day, she brought me a quote that she liked.  I started to read it, having no forethought as to its content.

I was floored.  I nearly cried, but held my tears until I was alone.  She never would have understood my emotion. 

At the time, I had been working for over 13 years in the printing industry, and while it afforded me a decent living (much better than minimum wage, anyway), I was enormously dissatisfied.  The vocation had never helped me to get ahead financially, nor did my work help me to feel that I made one iota of real difference in the world.  I knew that I needed to make changes in my life; still, I felt nearly paralyzed by my habitual servitude to that life.

Upon reading this quote by Goethe, however, I immediately received strength to pursue a different life's path.  Thoughts flooded my mind, focused on the idea of completing my degree, that I might do something more with the gifts God had given me.  The feeling was intense, the direction unmistakably divine in its origin, and the confidence offered that all financial concerns would indeed work out truly did surpass all understanding. 

Just over three months later, I quit my job, enrolled in college full-time beginning with the Spring 1993 term, and renewed my journey towards completing my Bachelor of Arts in Communication.  I had no idea in advance as to how in the world this would all come together, but I put my full self into motion anyway.  I truly did commit myself to following through with my decision, despite my inability to foresee the future, and despite all the varied fears and realities of life that had stagnated my progression during former years. 

I had already earned nearly 60 disjointed credit hours by that time, but they counted for little when all was said and done, so that I had to start college nearly from scratch.  Nonetheless, three years after my decision to renew my educational journey, I graduated from the University of Arizona, Magna Cum Laude, in Spring 1996. 

Never once during that time did I fear for my financial sustenance, nor did I have cause to concern myself.  "All manner of unforseen assistance and meetings and material assistance" did indeed present themselves.  Naturally, I did pursue and was granted loans, but even these by themselves would not have been enough to cover my school and living expenses for three years.  In addition to these loans, a few modest grants and scholarships were obtained.  Summer jobs in my printing vocation paid nicely.  I received an insurance settlement after having been painfully rear-ended (not the best way to take care of business, but it surely did help).  My mom, whom I had been previously supporting after an emergency move from California, finally won her disability suit against the Social Security Administration (and before a judge who was known to be unsympathetic in such cases), which then allowed her to reimburse funds I had already expended on her behalf the previous year.  And finally, my roommate generously charged me a paltry $150/mo for rent and utilities for the entire period of my schooling endeavor.

To my great pleasure, temporal salvation, and spiritual satisfaction, the sea had spread its walls before me, allowing me to travel to the other side upon dry ground.  Providence--meaning God--moved on my behalf, because I moved first.  I acted in faith.  I did something.  I commited myself to a decision, feeling the strength of the Lord behind me, and I moved. 

Truly, that one pivotal decision made all the difference in the world for me, and I suspect for a few others as well.  It is surely good to remember these things.

King Benjamin stated, "see that all these things are done in wisdom and order" (Mosiah 4:27).  But, let them be done!  Pursue dreams!  Be bold!  Receive genius and power!  Begin it now!