I am Regina Lynette, daughter of Donna Maria, daughter of Dorothy Lee, daughter of Odetta, daughter of Peoria. And I have been searching for myself in my mothers’ gardens. Even though I didn’t want to find myself in Dorothy for a long time, getting to know her as an ancestor has helped me to see some seeds of myself in her garden – because of Dorothy I am predictably unpredictable, and have a wandering spirit.
Dorothy Lee Thomas (Terry) was my grandmother. She was never known as grandmother but as Dorothy to Mommy’s children. Her given name is Dorothy Lee. Her maiden name is Thomas. And her married name was Terry. I don’t know if she ever married again after Warren Thomas Terry – never known as grandfather and causing some confusion with his middle name always listed and the same as my grandmother’s maiden name. She was called Dorothy. She was called mean. She was called unstable. And she was called unpredictable. Later I would know she was called a free-spirit and she was called independent.
I had a baby doll that I slept with from my first memories until she fell apart. I named her Sleepy Baby because she was sleeping, and she was a baby. I was never creative with naming my inanimate objects – my favorite teddy bear is named Bear. Sleepy Baby was all I knew of Dorothy for years, because the baby doll was a gift from her, and I remember Daddy telling me so. I don’t believe I ever met my Dorothy. I don’t have a lot of details about the last time she was in Memphis visiting the family but when Mommy was found chain-smoking and rocking in her bed, Daddy announced that Dorothy didn’t have to go home but she had to get the hell out of there. He drove her to the bus station and then Dorothy was gone. Mommy is the one who called her mother unpredictable most often. Most of the memories she shared were about times that started out happy and ended horrifically, sometimes ending in some kind of violent behavior.
This is the only photograph I have with Sleepy Baby. Not sure how long I thought holding her by her feet was the best idea. I have memories of rocking her to sleep in my arms before I went to bed myself.
Sleepy Baby was a doll made of a plush pale pink stuffed onesie with a pale plastic face, pursed pink lips, and closed eyelids. Her onesie was hooded, and yellow tufts of hair peeked out from underneath the seam. The pale pink satin ribbon was never tied in a bow as it obviously was when I got her but dangled the way ribbons on pigtails dangle at the end of the school day.
The vast majority of what I know about Dorothy consists of a timeline of events from genealogical research and imagining her reactions and responses to life events through a filter of my own experiences.
Dorothy was born on Halloween in 1925 to parents who were presumably married at the time, ages 16 and 22. She was the middle child of “stair-step” daughters – her older sister was just about 15 months older, and the baby was just about 13 months younger. Her baby sister died at about 6 months old. She and her older sister were just toddlers at the time, so I imagine the baby was just a family story for her. But it was one that she never forgot. We found a list of “characters” in Mommy’s baby book where Dorothy listed family members and Essie Mae was included. I think in a more positive series of events she would have been considered the family historian, always writing long notes on the back of photographs and in Mommy’s baby book. Dorothy would lose her mother when she was just 14 years old and then go on to live with her father and his aunt for at least the next two or three years.
Dorothy Lee, mother of Donna Maria, grandmother of Regina Lynette.
This photograph was taken during Dorothy’s high school years – I believe she attended Booker T. Washington in Memphis – and is the best photograph I’ve seen of her.
Dorothy has posed for at least one other professional photograph that I’ve seen and sent a few snapshots in letters. She wrote on the backs about how bad she looked or that she had been ill in the photographs.
I’ve compared my high school photographs with Dorothy’s trying to find myself in her face.
Regina Lynette, daughter of Donna Maria, daughter of Dorothy Lee
Here’s a picture of me in high school, wearing Fashion Fair Cherry Wine lipstick just because it was Mommy’s signature color.
Please excuse those ends. My ends hadn’t been trimmed for about 5 years and I was taking off 3 inches at a time that summer to avoid a short cut that I was not allowed to get. A few months later I turned 18, my father’s age of hair-cutting consent, and chopped it down to a chin-length bob – best decision ever.
From my own experience of losing my mother at age 13, I can assume that Dorothy was wounded emotionally in a way that only a girl-child who loses her mother in early teens can understand. I know what it is to be a Motherless Child and to be shattered by that loss. Did Dorothy have suicidal thoughts when her mother died like I did? Did she make a feeble attempt at killing herself, wanting to be wherever it was that her mother was like I did? Did Dorothy have the same “slips” in her mental stability – and by “slips” I mean instances where your mind plays tricks on you rather than remaining in the rational and logical – that I did? Maybe she sat at the front door waiting to see headlights that meant her mother was coming home from an evening errand as many times as I did. She might have seen an usher at a church she was visiting who looked like her mother and imagined that she was back and would explain how she came back to tell her that she was in witness protection and had to fake her death. If Dorothy had any strong identity with a parent, it was likely with her mother and the loss would cause her to struggle going forth. Did the family worry about her yet spin out because they had no solutions for their own grief, much less hers like my family? I bet it was a critical break in Dorothy’s life that affected all the days of the rest of her life, and likely the first one of many.
I know that Dorothy sang well even though I never heard her. She sang in talent shows and was asked to join a male singing group when they wanted to add a female voice. If I remember correctly, this was The Platters – she was dating one of them – and I suppose this was before they added Lola Taylor. The dates don’t match up to the story in my head so maybe it wasn’t The Platters but whatever the group, as the story stands, I can imagine Dorothy might have gained some fame from joining this musical group. She wasn’t allowed to join them – Daddy Rod didn’t let her go – and I wonder could this have been the cause of a second “slip” in Dorothy’s mental stability. She probably lost that boyfriend and a dream of singing all in one single blow. This is the last time I’m aware of hearing her pursuit of a singing career and what a knock-out punch it must have been to have a dream snatched away from you. I do believe this happened shortly after her mother’s death and before her daughter was born but I have no idea of the dates to confirm. It’s exciting to know that Dorothy performed in talent shows all around the city of Memphis and heartbreaking to know that she wasn’t able to pursue a dream of a singing career. If a dream deferred causes the heart to be sick, what in the world does a dream denied cause? Another “slip” in Dorothy’s mental stability, I believe.
I was in second grade when Dorothy resurfaced for a matter of months until her death. This little girl had lost both her grandmothers and was about to gain a great-aunt and an uncle.
This is the first time I visited my “new” great-aunt, uncle, and a distant cousin in California. It was shortly after Dorothy’s death which effectively ended Mommy’s estrangement from her family, though I don’t think Dorothy was involved in the cause for the estrangement.
I imagine Dorothy as a wounded child who never found significant healing from her disappointments and the bitter side of the unfairness of life, causing her to act out sometimes. I believe Dorothy did the best she could often finding that it wasn’t enough, and maybe that made her stop trying. And in her hurting state, Dorothy probably did more than her fair share of hurting other people. Does this mean that if she had a different relationship with her father or with her sister or with her first husband that she would have been kinder? Maybe. Maybe not. If she had a successful singing career instead of a teenage pregnancy and unsuccessful marriage, would she have been stable? Maybe. Maybe not. If her mother had not died too young at age 31, would she have been more predictable? Maybe. Maybe not. And broken hearts don’t all heal the same way.
Because I want to find a kindred spirit in my grandmother, I look for myself in her garden and when you search for something you’re likely to find something – whether or not it’s truly the thing you were seeking. I’ve been called independent, like Dorothy, and I imagine I plucked those seeds from her garden. I’ve been called a free-spirit (even though I’m not sure I agree), like Dorothy, and I imagine some of those seeds came from Dorothy. I’ve been called mean and I’ve hurt others when I was hurting, like Dorothy. I’ve been called unstable, like Dorothy, and live with a Bipolar II Disorder diagnosis, unlike Dorothy. But my favorite and the one I’ve massaged the most is that I’ve been called unpredictable, predictably unpredictable to be exact.
My former college roommate called me predictably unpredictable, showing no surprise when I did or said something that seemed contradictory to my typical choices. Yes, I could be unpredictable in a way that negatively affected my loved ones and my close ones, but thankfully it’s often more benign. Some of my atypical choices receive a response similar to, “I would never have thought you’d ever want that one” or “I can’t believe you actually did that.” And generally, it’s about things like the time I sang at The Apollo Theater, when I couldn’t give up coffee and then just because it was a Saturday I lost all desire for it, or the time I called the floral print mug with a gold handle perfect. Why in the world would I jump up on stage at The Apollo Theater? I don’t sing well, even though I love to and give it all I’ve got. It was a fake show during a tour of the theater, but not something you can expect me to ever do. It was a once in a lifetime thing, and my hair was sassy, and I was enthralled by the fact that I could touch the stump for good luck, jumping on the same stage where Ella Fitzgerald first sang. I had spent my life trying not to become addicted to coffee but it became hard to start mornings without it. And then I woke up one Saturday and didn’t want any. It would be at least three days before I noticed that I didn’t want any coffee – even with the smell of fresh hot coffee brewed with cinnamon each morning – and that was that. That floral mug would have been the perfect balance to all the things I find rustic and casual. And it’s probably the only fancy mug I’ll ever want.
I am Regina Lynette, daughter of Donna Maria, daughter of Dorothy Lee, daughter of Odetta, daughter of Peoria.
I am Regina Lynette 