Speaking Their Names

The night’s springtime rain was the reason I overslept. Discovering my tardiness gave permission for me to engage with my thoughts.

The month of May has always been a month of grief for me personally. Classmates, childhood friends, and family members have exited the world in May. The birthday of my favorite cousin, Veda, is in May. She exited this world in 2018. Each year, I remind her how old “we are,” as we were born a month apart. She often depended on me to have our correct age when she needed to know, because she was too busy living to keep up with such a small detail of life. Our conversation this May started with the phrase, “Veda, we are sixty-five years old.”

Thoughts of her led me to stop at K. Hall’s for breakfast. I wanted a pork chop. Not the breakfast size, but the size K. Hall used on its famous sandwiches. Veda lived near this establishment that has been in the same location for over fifty years. They also sell fresh vegetables from the farm and deli meats sliced to order.

Traveling to work, my thoughts lingered on a call received in the Roberts Library Research Room earlier in the week. Someone was looking for an obituary. The deceased’s name was Dixie Reynolds.

Memories of my grandmother teaching me the names of my ancestors sprang to my mind. If you say their names, they still live, is how she described what she was sharing with me. My uncle Remous Toombs had a twin named Romos who died as a baby. Romos was mentioned often, and we were taught about this child who lived months instead of years.

The person asking about Dixie was an extended family member. Dixie’s son David Pieratt was married to the sister of the caller. The obituary revealed that Oakland-Fraternal Historic Cemetery Park in Little Rock held Dixie’s physical remains. She died on a Wednesday, was buried on a Thursday, and the newspaper announcement of her death was on a Friday.

The distance between death and burial did not shock me. My relative Mary Jean Hodges died on a Wednesday, had an announcement in the newspaper on Friday, and was buried on a Saturday. The similarities between those transitional traditions made me want to know more about Dixie.

She seemed to challenge me to find more details about her life. I did. Dixie was age sixty-nine when she died. She was born in Rogers, Benton County, Arkansas, to Daniel W. Hixon and Ella M. Smith Hixon. Her father was born in Scotland. She married at least three times. She lived in Great Bend, Kansas, where her artistic skills were used for public spaces and to develop the skill of future artists. She lived in Dallas, Texas, working as a commercial artist. She lived in Wichita, Kansas, doing similar work. She’d worked as a clerk in a department store in Ellinwood, Kansas.

Her son, David W. Pieratt, graduated from Hall High School in Little Rock in 1970 and earned a scholarship to Pratt Institute of Brooklyn, New York, to continue his education. David married Karen Bennett Eckhoff. Karen’s sister Vickery Eckhoff was the one inquiring into Dixie. Dixie lived in Cammack Village in Pulaski County, Arkansas.

Vickery shared a photo of Dixie with her son David. Thirty-seven years after leaving her earthly home, Dixie has people “speaking her name.”

It is a gift that adds to my knowledge of Dixie and a reminder that your life affects people you’ve never met. Call us or come see us in the Research Room to start or continue your own research. Visit the CALS website (opens in new window) for Roberts Library visiting information (opens in new window).

Rhonda Stewart is the genealogy and local history specialist for the Central Arkansas Library System’s Butler Center for Arkansas Studies, housed in the CALS Bobby L. Roberts Library of Arkansas History & Art.