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Latham
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Commentary by Charles Latham
As Black History Month ends, I would like to talk a little about the person who taught me the most important history that one can ever have -- and that is your own family history.
That person is Maggie Elizabeth Fobbs, my grandmother. She told me about her parents and grandparents; she even had pictures.
My great-great-grandparents were Neal Nason (1845-1928) and Lucy Nason (1836-1932). Neal Nason was a blacksmith, and Lucy Nason canned and stored goods and milked cows, among other chores, on the Dubard Plantation.
They were born into slavery. At the end of slavery, they continued to work as sharecroppers. They lived their entire lives in the Dubard community.
Prior to doing her daily chores, Great-Grandma Lucy would gather all the children on the plantation around an old oak tree for morning prayers.
They had seven children -- Rose Nason, Mattie Reed, Florida Jones, Nancy Williams (my great grandmother), Sarah Goliday, Doug Nason and Lucy Terrell.
Nancy, Lucy and Doug lived in the Pine Hill community. Most are buried at Thomas Bottom Cemetery, just west of town near Bew Springs.
Nancy married John Wesley Williams. They had five children, Lucille, Walter, Ella Wease, my grandmother Maggie, and Ida Maise. Maggie married George Fobbs and among their eight children is my mother Maggie Lee. Maggie Lee married Leo Latham, and I am the first of their seven children.
In a time when many don’t even know who their parents are, thanks to my grandma I can trace my family’s history back to 1836. I have also traced the Latham family back to former slaves buried at Sweethome Cemetery.
Knowing from whence I came allows me to better understand where I’m going and my purpose in life -- and that is to love and honor God and family, and to pray like Lucy Nason, who even as a slave, took time to teach children to pray. She had faith that a better day was coming, and that the children were the future.
Remember she experienced the emancipation of slaves at the age of 27 -- a day I’m sure she thought would never come. Grandma thought she’d never vote, much less see a black man elected President of the United States of America. You weren’t alone Grandma, I didn’t think I’d see it either.
On Feb. 10, 2013, after 102 years and 81 days, God called Grandma home. I was blessed to have her for 59 years and 87 days. I thank God for every moment I shared with Grandma, and I thank her for teaching me about my history.
Black history happens every day, and it’s closer than you think.
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