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The Grapevine Art Salon

In Memory of LOUISE WHALEY CARMACK

On October 17, 2002, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution devoted a three-column obituary to the mother of Cleo Hudson in which Kay Powell said, among other things, "Louise Carmack's memory about Jonesboro [Georgia] was just about better than any history book. She had known people who lived through the Civil War and herself lived through 94 years of the city's history." The kind of grandmother she was is revealed here by Cleo's son Dan and by her cousin Bill Reeves who grew up in the household of this energetic lady with wide-ranging interests.

Daniel Hudson

Daniel Hudson, grandson of Louise Carmack, lives in the house in Jonesboro that he and his brother Kevin inherited from their grandmother. He has painstakingly preserved her memory in photography and writing. Daniel is a graduate of Woodward Academy and Georgia Tech, has made a career in construction and real estate, and is an Eagle Scout and scoutmaster.

Eulogy for Louise Whaley Carmack, My Grandmother

Above all else, my grandmother was a teacher. Almost everyone here today was affected in some way by her. Many of you were her students. Although I never had the fortune to be a student in one of her classes, she was, none the less, my teacher. I learned something from her everyday. Sometimes the lessons were driven home; other times the lessons were left for me to figure out. For years I wondered why she spent so much money on a masonry fireplace in which there has never been a fire. It is easy to understand now why she didn’t need to build a fire in the fireplace. She was the fire ....

When she was born, fires were tended to heat rooms, provide light, and cook meals. Can you imagine what it must have been like on cold December mornings, as housewives and daughters shivered in the darkness to build fires in wood burning stoves and coal burning fireplaces? Can you imagine the time spent hauling hod after hod of coal from room to room, or how many cords of wood had to be split just to cook a year’s worth of meals? Today, our fires exist in the confines of gas furnaces, water heaters, and stoves, seldom seen. Other fires travel in the flow of electrical currents through a myriad of labor-saving appliances. We flip the switches turning on electric lamps. Our not-so-distant ancestors lighted oil lamps. We grumble when a bulb burns out. They had to refill oil fonts, trim wicks, and wash [lamp] chimneys every day.

... my grandmother read to me quite often. I remember her reading a story about Abraham Lincoln as a boy. She was fascinated that Lincoln, like her father, had studied by the fire. I used to lie by the fire and read, myself. I remember wondering if either Lincoln, or my great-grandfather ever tired from studies and paused to stare into the fire, as I did. Now, I wonder what my grandmother saw as she paused to watch the reflection of the flames dancing in my eyes.

About a year ago, I was awarded the Vigil Honor in the Order of the Arrow. A part of the process of this honor involves spending a night alone in the woods tending a fire. I was asked to look into the fire and seek the knowledge that was there. It was a very long and moving night. As I shivered in the darkness, tending my fire, it occurred to me that the fire ... was not so much physical as it was emotional and spiritual. To the Cherokee, fire was sacred. At the turning of each new year, all fires were extinguished, fire pits were cleaned, and after great ceremony coals dispatched from the capitol to each town and from each town to each home were used to kindle new fires. In a sense, the entire nation was bound together by a force that provided heat, light, and nourishment. We all tend fires in our hearts, and in the hearts and souls of our loved ones ....

I realized, as I stared into that fire, that I could not help seeing my grandmother’s penetrating blue-gray eyes. I could feel the care with which she tended the fire in my heart and soul for so many years. I was at once warm and at peace. I believe that we are born with notions that are passed from generation to generation. Like the coals the Cherokee passed from capitol to town to home, these notions can be left to gutter out, or they can be passed on, have tinder and seasoned wood piled upon them, and fanned into a great and useful fire. My grandmother’s beliefs in education, compassion, honor, duty and service were the coals, tinder, and seasoned wood heaped together in my soul. My grandmother’s drive, commitment, and love were the fans that tended the fire in my heart and soul.

Monday night, I stood another vigil. As I stared into my grandmother’s eyes for the last time, I felt once again warm and at peace. I, for one, am grateful that great care went into tending the fire in my grandmother’s soul, and that she took such great care to tend to the fire in my soul. Although she is gone, her spirit lives on in the fires deep within each of us who had the honor of staring into her fire. My hope is that we will honor her by passing this fire on to those whom we love.

William B. Reeves

nephew of Louise Carmack, credits her with giving him the skills to make a career in the corporate world. He graduated from Georgia Tech with a degree in industrial management and then from Georgia State University with an MBA. He is Senior Director of SpencerStuart financial services and has been recognized in Who's Who in Finance by the Atlanta Business Chronicle. He and his wife Stephanie live in Atlanta's Buckhead area.

Eulogy to Aunt Louise

To my mind, Louise Carmack was one of the most extraordinary women of the 20th century. She took pride in the fact that her life spanned 11 decades, 10 in the 20th century and 1 in the 21st.... She left home at age 16 to attend Limestone College in South Carolina [and] she later graduated from Bessie Tift [in Georgia]. She was the first in her family to graduate from college. Losing her mother at an early age, Louise became head of the household long before the IRS knew what that term meant .... Louise managed a household that included her immediate family, her widowed father, Will Whaley, and his three unmarried children: Sara, Bill and Claude. Louise has been the spiritual and moral leader of our family for most of her adult life and is indeed a true matriarch ....

Louise taught school for more than 40 years and then assumed managerial positions in education ... always managing to spend time in the classroom, her first love. After she retired from teaching school, she was elected to the city council of Jonesboro, where she served two terms before concluding that she was not cut out for politics .... She was a lifelong member of the first Baptist Church of Jonesboro, where she served as organist and taught Sunday School for many years. She was a charter member of the local chapter of Delta Kappa Gamma ..., a founder of historical Jonesboro, and a founding member of the Jonesboro Women's Club. She lived independently in her own house until April of this year when she had an unfortunate fall from which she never recovered. In her physical decline, she maintained her keen intellect, her wit, her positive attitude, and her remarkable dignity.

On a very personal level, Louise taught me to read and to appreciate a good story. She taught me the beauty of poetry and the power of words, spoken and written. She drilled me on grammar, structure, diction and usage. She monitored my manners, my attitude and my conduct. She encouraged me in music and taught me the importance of practice and discipline. She made me appreciate the beauty of a rose and the satisfaction that can come from gardening and growing things. She forced me to be responsible and accountable for my behavior .... We all wanted to please her, and she had a quiet way of motivating us to do our best. She encouraged me to set high goals for myself and she helped me develop the self confidence to chase my dreams.

She was gentle and kind, never raised her voice, but she could speak volumes with one stern, schoolteacher look. Conversely, her sparkling blue eyes and her beautiful smile could warm your heart and let you know that she was pleased. Her powers of persuasion, her strict discipline and her personal example had tremendous impact on the development of my conscience. To me, she exemplified integrity ....

From my earliest memory, Louise was always sewing or making something. Like everything else she did, she was good at it. She was an accomplished seamstress and made beautiful things. She often gave things she had made as gifts to various family members Sometimes these gifts came with thoughtful notes. In my case, the notes were as much a treasure as the gifts themselves. I would like to share with you a note which accompanied one of these special gifts to me at Christmas, long ago:

The pattern I have woven in this afghan for you is called "The Tree of Life." Typical of an old English teacher, I have visualized symbolisms that I want to share with you. The larger trees represent the major events in life; the smaller trees, the less important events in life. Both are needed to complete the patterns of life just as both were needed to complete the pattern in this afghan. I made mistakes. some of them, I corrected by pulling the yarn out and starting all over again; others, I tried to hide, hoping they would not be too visible. The underside is not pretty, but the knots--the weaving back and forth--were necessary to anchor the pattern in each row. So it is in life; perfections, imperfections, corrections, sometimes cover-ups and the securing of our effort are necessary. Certain fundamental principles shape our lives: selection of a pattern, perseverance in shaping this pattern and hopes that the pattern will be pleasing. These same principles I have woven, with love, in this afghan for you for Christmas, l979. Aunt Louise ....