Mrs. Geneva Gertrude Hurley McCall

Celebration of Life Service Saturday 11:00 am Providence Missionary Baptist Church
Geneva Gertrude Hurley McCall was (is) my mother and she loved to share her story. She often said that our survival was rooted in the ability to tell a good story and that we as a people do not hide from our history. We share it and strive to learn from it and keep the memories alive through the generations. She was perpetually writing a book entitled Through it All Memories of Childhood and Beyond, in which she hoped to celebrate the people and places that shaped her identity, relationships and future. I have recently found piles of her old notes and writings, filled with the scribbled memories and random recollections that were to have made up her memoir. Done well, a good story can ease our fears, teach us valuable lessons, bond and strengthen families in times of great tragedy or sorrow, and turn seemingly insufferable into moments of joy. It is at this time that I am reminded of the comforting power of storytelling and wish that she had completed her book.
I like to think that she would have begun her story by telling you of a wonderful childhood raised in Charlottesville, Virginia. Her father, William, was kind and a great cook. Her mother, Geneva, loved sliced tomatoes and quality clothing. She would describe her older sister, Caroline, as the beautiful high school homecoming queen and her younger sister, Wilhelmenia, as admirably independent. She herself was bookishly somewhere in between the two.
She would also tell you of how there were few boys born to her family and that she and her sisters along with cousins Margaret, Shirley, June, Paulette, and Roberta were joined at the hip and became indistinguishably known throughout the community as the Hurley Girls. I am sure she would smile remembering how a recent family reunion gave them one last chance to giggle like schoolgirls.
Inevitably, she would marvel at what she was able to achieve despite the limitations set during a time of segregation. Her story of separate but unequal might weave the despairs of daily racial taunts, secondhand books, and closed accommodations with the joys of holiday traditions, elegant school dances and remarkable teachers. No doubt she would tell you all about her fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. McGinnis, who inspired her love for learning and the 50-year career as an educator that followed.
She would speak humbly of the $500 her grandmother borrowed so that she could continue her studies at Virginia State University. She would reflect proudly on the promise kept to help her family when she finished. No one would have guessed that a country club waiter and the lady who dusted crumbs from the top of a table would be able to send their daughter to college. So, she would tell you that the highlight of her life was seeing them addressed respectfully as mister and misses when her University of Virginia graduate school completion was announced in the local newspaper.
Perhaps she would blush reminiscing about the day she met her husband John and how he proposed six months later. She would certainly pull out the wedding day photos and describe the beauty of the pastel bridesmaid dresses or how, of her four nieces, only Deborah and Roberta, were flower girls because Katrina and Lisa were too young. She would recall the evening reception in the backyard of her family home, and you would almost swear that you could taste the saltiness of the country ham or see the flickering beauty of the fireflies in the night sky.
She would take pleasure in detailing the birth of her baby boy Jay, and how the hospital had to fashion a diaper to fit his unexpected size. She might remember afternoon joyrides with her shared son, Marcus, describing how her weird little child wore bow ties and dragged a briefcase to school each day. She might also recall that, as a boy, he cried at not seeing himself in those wedding photos but now, as a man, she could clearly see him in every photo of his father.
In her profound stories of friendship, she might tell you about sharing a playpen with her oldest friend Jeannette, sharing secrets with her dearest friend Frankie, or sharing lunchtime laughs with her closest friends Charlene, Lois, and Mollie. Ultimately however, she would tell you about sharing a divine friendship with God and her immense gratitude for the precious memories of a story-filled life.
I miss my mom. I sometimes feel like I am stumbling through life without the guidance of the person who knew me best. I find myself thinking about her stories often. They are guideposts to me, bits of posthumous advice. Maybe that was not her intention when she began making notes of her memories years ago. But I am so glad that she did. Like so many before her, she opened up the history of her life, and her ancestors' lives, and placed it gently in our hands as the gift that only she could give. I know she would have wanted us to learn from it, and try to grow from it, and hopefully share our stories too.
To send a flower arrangement or to plant trees in memory of
Mrs. Geneva Gertrude Hurley McCall, please click here to visit our Sympathy Store.