My first assignment at The Fort Bend Herald, formerly the Herald-Coaster, was as the obituary writer. I had other responsibilities, but then-editor Bob Haenel told me the obituaries were the most important part of my job.
For some people, their obituary might be the only time they would have their name in the newspaper, and I’d better make sure I spelled everything correctly.
As I typed, I found myself wishing I’d known some of these people who were no longer with us. They’d served their country, survived tough childhoods and brought themselves up from dirt poor to establishing foundations.
So it was with sadness I read that Lucille Stewart Jackson passed away. I interviewed Lucille over 10 years ago, and it’s an afternoon I remember well. The retired nurse had invaluable knowledge about Fort Bend County, especially Kendleton.
She was so gracious in her little house just north of Pecan Grove and willingly shared the memories of growing up black, poor and proud.
We talked about how life was back in those days, and she could recall details with exact clarity. She remembered the people, how it was to be not quite accepted but to keep working toward equality and fairness.
The obituary mentioned she had two sons, Nolan and Donald, who were both deceased. What the obituary didn’t mention is that her sons were killed in an automobile accident together. In one evening, Lucille lost her entire family, but throughout her life, she always helped others, especially her church, Oak Hill Missionary Baptist Church.
There are many people in our midst who were instrumental in the early days of Fort Bend County, and I wish I had time to visit with each and every one because their memories of growing up here are fascinating.
The story from Junior Hartledge who drove cattle across what’s now New Territory. He slept underneath the stars, never dreaming of the metropolitan suburbs that would one day replace native grasslands and sprawling prairies.
I often think about the stories I heard from Virginia Scarborough and the wonderful, Southern way she recalls growing up here and of the safety and security she felt on the streets of Richmond.
I felt the same nostalgia when I heard childhood stories from Arthur and Lydia Mahlmann and Mason Briscoe, especially how Saturday nights were full of excitement in downtown Rosenberg.
Girls would try out the new lipstick at the drug store while the young boys sipped on beer and munched on sausage. Families came in from the fields on the weekends and filled the downtown streets of Richmond and Rosenberg with music and laughter.
I can’t pass a corner grocery store in Rosenberg without thinking of the family whose father went to the store every Sunday afternoon to help neighbors call their families back in Mexico.
I often think of a 97-year-old man I interviewed in Sugar Land who remembered sleeping in the sugar cane fields at night because people of color weren’t welcomed in the houses.
His memories were of stalks waving in the moonlight as far as the eye could see. What a sight that must’ve been but how sad that he wasn’t allowed in the main house, not even for his marriage ceremony.
I’ve been privileged to listen to stories from those who served in World War II, Korea and Viet Nam, and not just men. I’ll never forget the afternoon I spent with four women who were nurses during World War II and how they held the hands of their fellow soldiers as they lay bleeding on the battlefield.
And now we’ve lost Lucille Jackson. Fort Bend County is a better place because she was here and a sadder place because she’s no longer around. May you rest in peace, Lucille.
I know you were welcomed into heaven’s gates by two smiling, familiar faces.