Where I Come From

My aunt wrote this article about my Grandmother at the request of an editor for future publication. This in no way fully captures all the history and drama that is “Grandmommy” but it does capture her essence. I am proud to descend from such a strong woman of colour and character. Enjoy!

ORELIA BUCKNER TAYLOR
Born June 26, 1926 in Oran, Missouri
Written by her daughter, Dorothy J, Evans

Born to parents Rev. Boyd and Mary Johnson Smith, Orelia grew up in Missouri and Arkansas. She had six brothers and two older sisters. Her mother was ill and died when Orelia was a young child . She had her children promise to one day meet their mother in Heaven. Partially raised by a father, sisters, and step-mothers, Orelia learned early in life the necessity of trusting in the Lord.
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My mother, Orelia, finished sixth grade and was done…not because she didn’t want to go further, for she loved school and did well. But, she grew up in the times where working on the farm and taking care of the males in the family were the most important tasks for females. When she asked her farm laborer father if she could one day go to college, he replied, “Yes, right down that row of cotton”. She quietly promised herself that she would never respond to her children that way. And she courageously kept that promise.

An uneducated woman, and eventually a single Mom, she accepted welfare and continued to clean the homes of wealthy white people to provide for her home and family of four growing kids. And what wonderful white folks they were! Barely worn clothing and shoes from fashionable stores were passed on to us. When my brothers graduated from junior high and high school, they accepted their diplomas in brand new suits, dressy shoes, shirts, and matching ties. Momma was loved by them for her work ethic, her generosity, and her Christian attitude.

We lived in the projects, We were on welfare. We often wore used clothing. But Momma never told us or allowed us to think that we were poor, nor to feel inferior to other children. Orelia Taylor taught her children to stand tall, to excel, and to never be discouraged and quit. Living in the projects was a remarkable experience. It was like a village. Every family knew each other, respected the rights and property of their neighbors, and disciplined and help to raise the children who dwelled there. It was a clean place, and values were taught, friendships shaped, leaders made.

A Christian and lover of God all her life, Momma brought her children up in the church. She didn’t send us to church…she didn’t drop us off at Sunday School…no, Orelia took us. She taught us early in life to bless our food, to thank God for the good times and the bad, to pray for guidance, to read the Bible, to yearn to make Heaven our future home. She could sing and was a longtime member of the choir. She was in the Mission and genuinely cared about others. She could not eat a morsel of food if she saw someone hungry. We would be sorely disciplined if we showed disrespect to any older person, whether they were right or wrong. We knew our place…we didn’t have the gall to argue with an adult or even pout or roll our eyes at them. Back then, the village was an integral part of our lives. Even if your parents didn’t see your disrespect, the village did, and they faithfully reported every offense to them.

When her second husband, Louis, was ordained as Deacon, Momma became a Deaconess. As the years passed, it became her time to become President of the Deacon’s Wives and Deaconess. She presided for many years, diligently performing her duties with a smile. When she was replaced as President by a younger woman, Momma did not pout nor complain. She stood by the new President and the auxiliary, lending a helping hand and providing guidance to her. Momma still is ready and able to assist wherever she is needed.

Three of Momma’s four children graduated from College. My baby brother is a Doctorate in the ministry; the other brother is also a minister and a retired principal with a Master’s Degree; my sister finished junior college, but decided to be an educated wife and stay- at -home mom. I became a teacher with a Master’s Degree. Momma’s inspiration and courage and belief in her children and faith in God were the forces that moved us to higher dimensions.

Even though my Dad and Mom divorced, he was a visible presence in the lives of his children. We knew our Daddy and celebrated holidays and special events with him. Momma never bad-mouthed him, nor made us resent him. When he grew older and lost his sight, Momma would help Daddy. We were working, so she took up the slack. Momma would say, “I’ve known him since I was fifteen and I won’t desert him.”

After her four children were grown, college-graduated, married, and parents ourselves, Momma decided to go to Adult School and get her high school diploma. She was a good student and the oldest in her class. The young people who had not applied their best in regular school, respected her efforts. She earned A’s and B’s in her subjects. During her graduation, her fellow classmates stood and applauded as her long-sought-after diploma was placed in her hands. What a proud moment for us all, but especially for Momma who clutched that precious rolled up paper and whispered a prayer of thanks to God for his goodness.

Momma is known around town as the cake woman. She makes mouth-watering cakes for people and gives them as gifts on their birthdays and other special occasions. People have gotten so bold as to tell Momma that their birthday is coming up and hope that they get one of her cakes. At funerals and celebrations, people who have tasted her buttery, light cakes ask, “Which one is Oree’s cake?”

A missionary in her own right, Momma freely calls and visit’s the sick and shut-in, usually bringing them something to read or eat. As sick as some of them are, they ask for some of her cake. For many years, Momma volunteered at the Braille Center, helping to feed the blind .

Momma has been the President of the Women’s Auxiliary to the Veterans of Foreign Wars for a lot of years. The membership is small and fragile, but she continues calling all the women and reminding them to come to the monthly meetings and to “please pay your dues“. The Post sponsors an annual barbecue dinner on Veterans’ Day each year and raises money for the Cancer Fund and for other activities. Momma is faithfully there in the kitchen, making sure the plates are presented to customers neatly and attractively.

In 2006, Momma’s knee finally hurt enough for her to submit to surgery. The surgery and post therapy went well. Mom was given crutches and an walker. I moved in with her during her recovery and caught her several times walking without support. She’d say, “Oh, I forgot about that”. The first Sunday I took her to church, everyone was glad to see her and amazed about how well she healed. Someone asked me where she was and I looked around to see the walker, but no Momma. She was on the other side of the church telling of her adventures. We put that thing away and she walked around like no surgery had been performed.


A true servant is what Momma is. She lives to wait on people. During dinners at her house, she can’t eat her own food for serving others. She takes leftovers to her friend across the street, who awaits with anticipation for the delicious food. She doesn’t like pets, yet she places discarded food in the alley for the dogs to feast on. The extended family went to a restaurant for a special occasion. One of her grandchildren announced to Momma, “Now, Gramma, don’t get up and help the waitress serve…they get paid to do that.” We laughed until our sides hurt.


Momma has graced this earth for 82+ years. She lives in her own house, has her own money, drives her own car (she passed her written test in 2008, so she can slowly drive a few years more. She doesn’t hear well anymore, but hates wearing those hearing aids! Instead of wearing them, she will blast everyone with the television super loud and utter “huh?” We tell her if she’d wear her hearing aids, she’ll better hear what people are saying. If she is in a cooperative mood, she’ll say, “I know”, but if she’s being spunky, she’ll say, “Sometimes I don’t want to hear what some people are saying”.

A strong woman. A godly woman. A woman full of love. That’s our Momma.