“It is my honor, my privilege to love my grandchildren. I don’t care how old they are. They’re mine to treasure for life.”
My parents are Lucille Smith-Vernon and Edward Lee Vernon. My given name is Martha Jane Vernon. Martha means “The Lady,” and Jane means “God is Gracious.” My generation was called “The Silent Generation.” I am a Sagittarian. On Monday afternoon, December 14, 1942, my journey began in Williamsburg, VA, at 3:20 PM.
I wear both my grandmother’s names, Martha Ellen Vernon (my father’s Mother) and Jane Smith (my Mother’s Mother). My father’s paternal grandmother’s name was Jane as well. There is a story about my name. When I was born, my Mother named me Jane Martha Vernon, but she did not like the flow, so she changed it to Martha Jane and called me Jane because she wanted me to be known by her Mother’s name, who died just before I turned two years old. (See a copy of my birth certificate with arrows pointing to the name change.) Back then, they did everything by typewriter, and any changes were handwritten. So, I was named Martha Jane Vernon and called Jane at home. As with any nickname or being known by your middle name, most friends and family did not know my first name was Martha. My Mother enrolled me in school as Martha and continued to call me Jane at home. I went by two names to family and close friends I was Jane. But I was Martha for work, school, and other places. You can see how that could be a problem. Around age 25, I decided to use Martha because that is the name I used at work, and all my classmates and anyone outside my home knew me as Martha. So now you have Martha Jane Vernon; I always write my middle name when I sign my name because so many people know me as Jane. I am in my 70s now and called Martha Jane by many family members. I am still Jane with my siblings and close family members who have known me all my life. It sounds strange to me if one of my sisters or brother calls me Martha; Barbara has started calling me Martha since I moved back to Virginia.
Edward Lee and Lucille Vernon had eight children, seven girls, and one boy; I am the second child. My Mother, Lucille, lost her battle with cancer in Newport News, VA, on October 6, 1960. She was 34; I was 17 and had just graduated high school four months before. It’s a life-changing thing; when a girl loses her Mother, she never recovers, no matter how old she is.
I am grateful for the opportunity to write to you. I write down my memories for you because I have had a wonderfully blessed life while there have been some significant sorrows. I have lived in many places and met some of God’s most wonderful people. I would not change a thing, and I need you to know me, not just my name, but who I am, what I have accomplished, what I love and don’t. As you live and learn, my darling children, you will realize that no matter what, life goes on.
For almost 18 years, I lived in Fairbanks, AK; we raised Lonnie and young Howard there. Being a long way from home, I missed my family. It inspired me to learn more about my background and family history. I will tell you more about my Alaska experience later.
My Mother was the youngest child in her family, and my Father was the oldest child in his. As I got older and wanted to know more about my family and ancestors, few relatives were left on my Mother’s side to answer questions. I got some information from my Aunts on my father’s side because they were much younger than my Mother’s siblings and were still here to help me. Although I did know some of my relatives, I did not know them well. Even though my father’s parents and siblings were still living, I did not get to know them until I was an adult. I know very little about the Boykins, my grandmother Jane’s people, my Mother’s Mother. I have not put the pieces of her life together and found her place in the family history and research I have done so far. I had and still do have so many questions.
I started working on my life story several years ago; I am 77 years old now, and it is the year 2020, and I have so much I want to tell you. Should one of you grow up with the same urge to know your family as I have, I don’t want you to have missing pieces of your life. I want you to see where you stand right now at this moment in time. I want you to know you had a firm place through me; I will not stop researching. I will give you the beginning of where your journey started with me, and you will be able to finish it when you tell your story.
I learned to trust in Jesus; I learned to trust in God. I learned to depend upon His word.
I was about three years old when my family moved from Lee Hall, where my grandpa Moses lived, to Newsome Park in 1945. We lived at 1477-44th St, Newport News, VA. My father worked in the Shipyard. Although I don’t remember the move, I remember starting kindergarten there.
Nowadays, Newsome Park would be called the ghetto, but it was nowhere near a ghetto then. It was an all-black neighborhood with doctors, lawyers, teachers, and people who worked in the Shipyard in the military and Black people from all walks of life. To help you understand even more about living in Newsome Park, I looked up the information below so that you can imagine living in Newsome Park in Newport News, VA, in the ’40s and ’50s.
“Newsome Park was one of the most desirable places to live on the Peninsula for its well-maintained environment and tight-knit community. Newsome Park was built during World War II as a housing project for Black defense workers, mainly at the Shipyard. It had 1,591 units. Newsome Park and the white complex Copeland Park, found just to the northeast, had a combined 5,200 units. The largest single defense housing project in the world.” The Daily Press reported at the time. “There will never be another community like the old Newsome Park,” former resident Audrey Williams wrote. We shared and still share a bond that will last as long as we live… It was a community that was very diversified. Many Doctors lived and had their practices in Newsome Park. School teachers taught at Newsome Park Elementary School during the day and, in the evening, went to their homes in the Newsome Park Community. There were postal, Shipyard, County, and many other occupations. Children had more than one set of parents and ate dinner in more than one household. There was no such thing as a child going to bed hungry if the neighbors knew. If one family had a car, the other families on the block had a car. Whatever one had, all had. “There was such a bond between everyone,” wrote Carolyn Jackson, another former tenant from the 40s. Oh, to have been a part of Newsome Park is everlasting joy.” End of the research. Note: Carolyn and I were in the same class.
Newsome Park was a wonderful place to grow up. Most of us started kindergarten at the local Community Center and graduated from Carver High School. We walked to Newsome Park Elementary, grades 1-6. Then we were bused to North Newport News to Carver Elementary (it was called elementary back then), grades 7-8, and George Washington Carver High School, grades 9-12, making lifelong friendships. I had two best friends in school who lived near me in Newsome Park. Evelyn Taylor Carter and Vivian Everett Freeman. I remember walking to kindergarten with them. Evelyn’s parents moved to Norfolk sometime in the 6th or 7th grade. Still, we always stayed in touch, and Vivian and I were inseparable until we graduated high school. She married and moved to Ohio. The three of us are still close friends today. Every class graduating from Carver High School is still friends and stays in touch. All through high school, I did not have a high school sweetheart. I did not get asked to the prom. There was one boy I liked, but he never knew it.
My birthday is in December; I had to be six by September 30 of the year I entered first grade. I would have missed the cut for that school year, so my Mother put me in school at age five. She told them I was six, and she could not find my birth certificate and said she had to replace it; I guess they did not insist she bring it in. That did not help me with the shyness; a year in the life of a five-year-old can make a big difference. I was the youngest in my class. I was reasonably good in school. My parents did not push me at home, so, like most kids, I did enough to get by, but I never failed a grade. I could have worked on my math and spelling skills more, as I found out later in life.
I played Viola in the orchestra all during high school. My seventh-grade teacher, Mrs. Blunt, convinced me to play the Viola; she was really into music. The Viola is a string instrument played with a bow, plucked, or varying techniques. It is slightly larger than a violin and has a lower and deeper sound. It is the middle or alto voice of the violin family, between the violin and the Cello. I could play the Viola in the High School Orchestra because that was one of the instruments the school provided. I am sorry; I never played the Viola again after high school. Playing in the orchestra helped me learn to read music and develop a love of classical and other music.
I was timid in school, but I was the leader of my siblings at home. My sisters and I were very close growing up. They said I was bossy and always told them what to do, and I did not want to help with the house cleaning. One day, Barbara, Christine, and I were walking to school; it was foggy, and I did not feel well. I stopped and sat down. They thought I had fainted, but we made it to school. When we got there, we were all upset and crying; my teacher sent us to the principal’s office. They called our Mother and let us all go home.
We would all play together outside, stacking large boards in opposite directions and jumping on them until the one we jumped on broke; we called that jump board. We did not have a lot of store-bought toys; we just went outside and played. If we had a nickel or dime, we’d go to Mr. Tom’s store on the corner and get some two-for-penny candy and cookies. I remember I loved ginger snaps. We could get twenty for a dime. I also remember playing Jack Rocks (now called Jacks) in the house; if we lost some jacks, we would go outside and replace them with some small rocks; it worked. We were not allowed to go too far from our house and couldn’t go into anyone’s house. Our cousin Esther, who lived across the street, was the only house we could visit. Esther was my mom’s first cousin, but she was more like a grandmother to us, so her house was like home. We were not allowed to eat any food given to us or at anyone’s house. If anyone ever offered us anything to eat, we had better say no thank you.
I was 15 when I participated in a Teen Self-improvement and Modeling Course. I think it was at the church and sponsored by Nachman’s, a very high-end department store in the area. We learned a lot about how to dress, walk, sit with your ankles crossed, how a lady never crosses her legs in public, and how to apply makeup. They told us how important it was to stand tall and hold in your abdomen. I still do that today; I loved that class. I have always loved wearing pretty dresses and suits and high-heeled shoes. What stands out in my mind about that class is when they showed us how to apply lipstick, they told us not to go all the way up to the lip line so that the lip would not look so full. WOW, today, everyone wants full lips. It was February 1957, and I still have the diploma.
My family attended Jefferson Park Baptist Church right across from our house. Reverend Bernard Schiele was the pastor. I loved going to church, where I not only learned about God. But also to be a leader. My Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Helen Banks, took a particular interest in me and helped me overcome my shyness by participating in church youth programs. Mrs. Banks told me I had an excellent speaking voice, so she would have me make announcements, read scripture, and welcome the visitors on Youth Sunday. I was in every youth program and became very good at public speaking. I may get a little nervous, but I do not have stage fright. The way Mrs. Banks worked with me made me want to do the same thing. I worked with children and youth in church and school when Lonnie and young Howard were growing up.
After high school, I enrolled in college at Norfolk State University. I took a Practical Nursing course in high school and wanted an RN Degree. Uncle Alec gave my Mother the money for my registration. She had not been well, and as I started college in September 1960, she had surgery in October and passed away; therefore, I did not return to college after her death. I stayed home and got a job.
I have had a great life. I am blessed, and God has watched over me through it all. I am here today, well and happy only through the Grace of God. I have so much more to share with you. Come, Come with me on the rest of this journey.
Jeremiah 29 11-13 ( ESV) For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.
