Frances Anna Mae Freeman, sometimes called Fannie, was born June 1, 1871, the 5th child of 11, to Margaret Jane Boulware and Henry Floyd Freeman in Jackson's Gap, Tallapoosa Co. Al. My mother never mentioned the name Frances or Fannie. When asked, she would always say Anna Mae. Most of the family when asked would say they were born in Jackson's Gap. A few would say Dadeville or Eagle Creek. Essentially, they are all the same. Jackson's Gap is a community within the community of Eagle Creek and Dadeville is the nearest town.
~The only time, I remember seeing my grandmother was at her funeral. She passed away in Huntsville Hospital after a long illness, Oct. 19, 1956. The funeral was at Pleasant View Church and she is buried there. My father lifted me up, so I could see her in her casket. Other than walking down the isle, with my hand in his, do I remember anything else about her or the funeral, before or after. At the time, I was two years and three months old. I was told, as I was growing up, that I was her favorite. After she went blind in her latter years, she would always call for me to lead her where ever she wanted to go. All she had to do, was holler my name and I would come running. It saddens me that I didn't get to know her and I don't have much to write about her, other than what I have been told.
~My mother told me that she spoke a lot of her parents and grandparents, saying her grandmother was a Cherokee Indian. She was very proud of that. She often mentioned her mother was a Boulware and told stories about them. She talked about her father, how he was an overseer during the slave days and fought in the Civil War. Her mother, in turn, told her about her father, Henry riding the cotton fields on a big white horse carrying a bull whip, using it on the slaves, if they ever raised up from their work. I should mention, that these stories were not told with admiration, but in a disparaging manor. Although Henry was well thought of, he was considered a very mean man, in his cruelty to the slaves.
~On a lighter note, my older siblings have told me that they loved going to her house, when they were children. The one thing they always mentioned, she was a tremendous cook, saying they always had to have one of her biscuits. She kept a big supply on top of her old woodstove. Although I never tasted them, I do have the bowl she made them in. It was given to her by her mother, after her wedding, Oct. 2, 1892. My mother got it, when her mother died. Me and Judy, found it, stored away in the smoke house. My mother, then gave it to us. Many years later, Judy found a photo of one on line, stating it was a Cherokee bread tray, from the mid to late 1800's.
My mother and aunts always spoke of her in a loving way, saying she was the one they went to in matters of the heart. Whenever they were asked on a date, their father would always say no. They, then went to her and she would change his mind, thus allowing them to go.
~The following stories are only told for the benefit of my children and grandchildren, keeping in mind that grandma was very old, blind and declining in health, possibly having dementia. They were told to me by several family members, as just funny stories, that happened with her.
~She got it in her mind once that my dad had killed my mother and she was very concerned. So, they brought my mother to her in an effort to show that she was still alive. She said, "That's not Ora, that's Ina Mae". Ina Mae being my oldest sister. Then, they brought Ina Mae and said, "Here's Ina Mae". She replied, "That's not Ina Mae, that's some old whore Homer's living with." I don't know if they ever convinced her.
~Another story my siblings loved to tell, she once was at our house, sitting in my dad's chair. My sister Glenda, who was 7 or 8 at the time, was asleep on the couch that was beside her. Being blind, she felt her way, with her hand, over to where she was sleeping and grabbed her by the hair and slung her to the floor. Glenda began crying and Grandma started laughing, sending the rest of my siblings into hysterical laughter, along with her. Grandma called her "Pooty Wax". They still love to rag Glenda about that. That was also her alternative for a cuss word. When angered or annoyed, she would say "Oh, Pooty Wax!"
She was the grandmother of 54 grandchildren, of which I am the youngest. Of all my grandparents, she was the least talked about. I think, this bodes very well for her.
Written with love by the youngest of 54 grandchildren (8 living as of Mar. 2023), grandson, Bobby Liles.