We Were The Hungry Holler Girls

We are each of us formed in part by our families, whether we know and appreciate it or not. Their bodies form us, their words shape us, their spirits spark or dampen our own. Their habits weave imperceptibly through our daily lives, and their love and memory is the flowing river of time we all stand in and must eventually cross. I have been outstandingly lucky in my life to have been been born into a line of women I admire, and Mother's Day seems a perfect time to reflect on them. My grandmother had one girl, my mother had one girl, and alas, I have none. I give them the gift of my words, having no other gift to give. We were the hungry holler girls, and I am the last of them.

My Grandmother, Margie Lee Barnes Sammis was the best story teller I have ever known, and through her I learned family history, good and bad, and came to have an understanding of who I was and the long line of family I represented. A very shy and private woman, she had a keen and wicked sense of humor, a warm heart and a gentle spirit. Her sense of fun was childlike and infectious but privately shared, her love of books and quick mind shaped my own. For reasons unknown, she kept my mother's biology books, and these were among my favorite toys. I did not know then how directly she was shaping my life.

She could wield a pen, a gun, and a classic red lipstick with equal dexterity, and from an early age, she encouraged me in a life of the mind. By her example, she encouraged me in a life of strength and courage I hope I have fulfilled. In a life that was never easy and rarely secure, she found the balm of beauty in simple things: the roses, calla lilies and strawberries she grew, literature, stories of the Ozark Mountains she loved and left in a story which is, shall we say, "a tale best left for another evenin', and another bottle of wine." Someday I will write it, for it is still the best one I have ever heard.

Maudvilla Barnes I know only through the eyes and stories of her daughter, Margie, for I never met any members of my Grandmother's family. Families were raised, farms were run, mines were mined and hopes for more were successively placed on the shoulders of the next generation of women. I know she carried the same sweet spirit and wicked sense of humor as my grandmother, and valued education, equality and opportunity for women, having experienced so little of it in her own life. I still judge a person's character today by this heuristic: Would this person be welcome company at Granny's table? I can't help but reflect on this stronger generation of women when I look at unfortunate examples today such as Paris Hilton or "The Real Housewives of..." wherever. "Good God," I can somehow hear her say. "Aren't they embarassed to be that useless?"

A curious mix of Chanel No. 5 and vanilla cokes and fries, my beautiful mother Susie Sammis Fuqua taught me by example from an early age to stand up for what I believe in. My earliest memories of her involve standing at a department store counter, looking at her stockings and heels and summer white dress, listening to her stand up for her right to have credit in her own name, be paid a decent wage, be given the opportunity for promotion and the training to deserve one. Never silent when animals or humans are seen to be suffering, my mother has done effective battle with cops, rednecks, conservatives, bureaucracies, politicians, companies and once or twice with my teachers, who in the early years seemed to alternate between thinking I was a genius or mildly retarded. In an era where other mothers were apparently staying home baking cookies and dressing like Carol Brady, I watched my mom put on a suit and hustle off to work, fight the lions of injustice and come home tired. Her superb work ethic prepared me for real life, and I can never thank her enough. She is in all ways, No Ordinary Susie.

We stand on the shoulders of the generations who come before, their lives and work and gut determination lift us up into a better future. I consider myself extraordinarily lucky to have descended from these women, their lives inspired me, their hopes and dreams shaped my own. Literally and figuratively, from them I learned to aim high and shoot straight, to want more and work to get it. I want them to know they succeeded, that the turning of the wheel is complete. We were the hungry holler girls, and I am the last of them.