Naomi Frazier Smith

Naomi Smith, wife of Sidney Smith, a city mail carrier, was stabbed to death on Thursday at her home, at 3417 South Race Street. Ogden Weaver, a roomer at the Smith home, is being held in the Grant county jail on charges of murder in connection with the death.

Surviving Mrs. Smith are her husband, and two children, Joan, age 5, and Roger, age 3. Mrs. Smith was a former beauty parlor employee.

Leader-Tribune (Marion, IN) Friday, 4 Mar 1932 Pg.5 Col.5

Thelma and Opal

Opal and Thelma Frazier's senior pictures

They were double cousins. Their fathers, Chelise and William Frazier, were brothers and their mothers, Emma and Annie Weaver, were sisters. 

Born four months apart in Grant County, Indiana, Thelma and Opal undoubtedly grew up together. Thelma, the eldest, was born October 1904, and Opal was born January 1905. In 1923 Thelma was not only in high school, but also working as a bookkeeper while living with her Uncle Chelise and Aunt Emma.

Marion High School in Marion, Indiana in 1923.

Thelma went on to become a school teacher in Jefferonville, Indiana, but her health soon failed and she returned home to Marion where she died on March 15, 1937.

Opal married Donald Burnett Winslow and by 1931 she was working as a maid. The marriage ended in divorce and Opal reclaimed her maiden name. She died in her home town of Marion, Indiana in 1970. Opal had two sisters, Naomi and Ruth. She and Ruth share a headstone at the Estates of Serenity Cemetery where Thelma is also buried.

Papoo

This is my grandfather. We called him Papoo. People who know my family will say he wasn't really my grandfather. As far as bloodlines go, they're right, he wasn't. He married my grandmother in 1939 and accepted my then 6 year-old father as his own. He was the only grandfather I knew. He was kind and forgiving, generous and understanding, patient and loving. He never raised his voice or his hand. He didn't have to. Whether you were in his Sunday school class, in his barber chair, having him take your picture, or sitting quietly in the coolness or his darkroom watching images appear like magic, you HAD to listen when he spoke. Not because he demanded your attention, but because he didn't speak too often or too loudly. He listened. And when he chose to speak you knew he had something to say, something you didn't want to miss.

When I was in high school he would pick me up every day and drive me across town to my after school job. When I got into the car he would say, "How's your day going, baby?" And then we would sit quietly and listen to Paul Harvey for the rest of our short trip. I think that's why I'm such a news nerd now. The point being, he never said that dress is too short (and it probably was), or what have you done to your hair, or did you pass that test, or I have so many other things I could be doing right now (and he probably did). When I got out of the car he would say, "Have a good evening, baby. I'll see you tomorrow." Whatever my day had been up to that moment or would become later, I looked forward to those kind caring words and our few quiet minutes together. I miss his gentle reassuring presence.

International Center Of Photography
New York Times
Jasper, Texas: The Community Photographs of Alonzo Jordan

History All Around Us

While researching my husband's family tree I came across three sisters living in an orphanage in Upshur County, Texas. It was called the Dickinson Orphanage or State Colored Orphans' Home. I live in the area, but had never heard of it. After further searching I found that the sisters' mother had been brutally murdered. She was only twenty two years old. Not only were the three youngest children placed in the orphanage, the two older children were sent to live with an older great-aunt. Some of them moved out of state as adults and had successful lives. Some eeked out a living as best they could in Texas. I wonder if they ever shared their story with their families. So much history is lost when we are embarrassed by our past experiences. There is no shame in where you came from. Children do not choose their living conditions.

Here is a link for more information about State Colored Orphans' Home .

My sisters and I pose while our grandfather perfects his camera settings. This was in the early 1960s.