Welcome to the personal page of Aletha Summerhill Rogers,
the webmaster of this site.
 Meander through the gate...it leads straight to the front door
of a five room country home in the tiny community of
Lakeview, Arkansas and the birth of...

It was a cold October morn, 24 Oct 1932 to be exact, when I first
saw the light of day in a small community located about seven miles
out of Arkadelphia, Clark County, Arkansas.

My father was a farmer and cotton ginner and my mother, the ever
present housewife, cook, laundress, child bearer, doctor, nurse,
and all of the other skills required of a typical country woman.
 They named me after my Dad's sister, Letha Summerhill Evans,
who I assume was named after their grandmother
Lethe/Letha Cardwell Summerhill.
 My mother attached an A...thus Letha became Aletha.

"In those old cotton fields back home..."

I've heard the saying, 'we ARE from whence we came,'
and if that's true, then I'm still an Arkansas country girl, and proud
to be one may I say.  During those first formative ten years of
country living, something clicked inside that has sustained me
these many years.  Maybe it was the hardships.  There was a
time I'd have given my eye teeth for a nickel to buy a candy bar.
 We always had food from Mama's garden but little to satisfy
a sweet tooth.   Once in a while, Mama made her delicious
tea cakes.  I still love them and make them periodically,
exactly as she did.

But, I suspect what has kept me through the years, was the
goodness and godliness of my Christian mother who raised us
in the nurture and adminition of the Lord.  (See picture below.)  When
I lost Mama in 1983, I felt the deepest pain I'd ever experienced.
 She was the constant and the 'always there' entity.   Always gentle
   and kind to everyone and especially helpful to those in need.

Because of blindness, she spent most of her adult years unable
to enjoy the wonders that God has created.  Yet, and this is probably
hard for you to believe, in all of my fifty years with her, I never
EVER heard her complain for that frailty.  Her beliefs were that,
"It was God's doing and who am I to question Him?"  Sometimes I
wonder if not for the basic attributes she taught me,
where would I be today?

I recall with fondness a late afternoon in the long, long ago when
I was about 8 years old.   We lived across the road from a tributary
of the meandering Ouachita River.  Late one afternoon, Mama's
old cow didn't come home for milking and she sent her three youngest
 girls, Elnora, Martha & Aletha into the woods to search for her.
 Like kids do, we played along for a while, but all the time listening
for the bell on that cow.  She was nowhere to be found.  Before long,
we noticed the lengthening shadows and darkness falling within
the woods.  Suddenly it dawned on us that we were lost!  A frantic
discussion arose as to what  to do.  We looked to the oldest sister for
an answer, but terror struck eyes told us she didn't have one.

Martha, Elnora & Aletha

Fear swept over us like descending fog.  Climbing a tree to
hide among the limbs and leaves was discussed, but stories we'd
heard about black panthers quickly rejected that idea.   Tears
swelled in fearful eyes, but just about the time things looked the
bleakest, we heard that familiar faraway call; "El...no..raaaaa!!"
 Mama had realized we hadn't returned and made her way
into the woods, searching and calling at the top of her lungs.  In
 time of terror, a straight line is the shortest distance between
two points.   Three hearts raced and six feet flew to the safety
of Mama's arms.  Even now, many, many years later, I can still
hear the call of that sweet voice.

And, yes, we also had the TYPICAL country necessities;
outdoor toilet, water well and oil burning lamps, which we called
coal oil lamps.  The odor of the oil still lingers in my nostrils,
but what a sweet remembrance.   When I tell my daughter of those
'wondrous years,' she shakes her head in disbelief.  With all of
the modern conveniences, it's hard for today's generation
to relate.

Like the time Mama burned the outhouse down!
 One memorable day she took her turn in the toilet.
 (There were ten of us and it probably was the only place she found privacy.)
 But to her  dismay, a snake was coiled inside the toilet hole.  She
  raced to the house, scooped up a shovel of hot coals from the fireplace,
ran back to the toilet and threw them on the snake.  Well, she figured
that took care of him so she went back to her chores.  In a little while
she looked out the window and the toilet was burning down.

She flew out the door like a 'bat out of Hades' to find my brother,
Junior, fighting a grass fire that had spread from the burning toilet.
 It was racing toward the chicken house.  The two of them extinguished
the fire, but needless to say, they lost the toilet.  Through the years,
Mama often chuckled when she related the story, saying Daddy
wasn't very happy about having 'to build another toilet!' 

Daddy lost his mother and my grandmother, Martha Jane,
(the subject of  this site) when he was 2 1/2 years old.  Therefore, he
was denied the birthright of a mother's guiding hand.   I have no
doubt that this loss had some profound effect upon him.   He and his
twin were reared by their sisters who helped to care for the children
even as they, themselves, were beginning their own homes.  And, my
 grandmother's brothers and their families also pitched in to help.
Grandfather Summerhill had heart problems and ekked out a living
by farming.  He chose not to remarry after my grandmother died.

My parents married in Arkadelphia in 1916 and during
the following years, eight children were born;
Dorothy Louise 'Dot',  William Franklin 'Bud',
Elbert Trigg, Jr. 'Junior', Donald Raymond 'Jack',
Elnora Jean 'Sis', Martha Frances 'Mart',
Aletha Ann 'Lete' & Edgar Wayne 'Buddy'.
 Daddy worked at a gin during cotton seasons for over 30 long
years, often sleeping on the gin's concrete floor.  With the long
working hours, there wasn't time to drive the team of mules the
seven miles home and get the rest his body surely needed.  He was
known as a hard worker and even though he never owned an acre,
every year he worked the land, (sharecropping) growing crops
like cotton and corn.  He was accidentally killed in 1943 in that
same gin while trying to extinguish a fire in one of the presses.
  My father shut down the presses and leaned into one of them
to extinguish the fire.   Someone...it was never admitted as to who,
engaged the presses without checking to see why they were off.
 My father was trapped and instantly killed.   

 At that time, he had three sons serving in World War II, a wife
with limited education to make a living, and four children under
14 years of age.   But, we all survived and the children eventually
married and raised families.
(Except for my brother Jack, who we lost at age 23 with malaria
which he had acquired in the South Pacific jungles during
World War II.)
  I'm extremely proud of my brothers and sisters who endured the
hardships of country living, overcame almost unbeatable odds
and made something of themselves.   Unless you've lived in a
similar deprived era, you can never understand or appreciate,
the marvelous accomplishments.

Me and my only offspring,
Tammy Renae Rogers

Tammy is a Project Management Professional (PMP).
Her calling is teaching others, and especially children
about Jesus' love, and also, to minister to the needy!
  I'm extremely proud of Tammy and her tender,
charitable heart, always anxious to extend
a helping hand to anyone less fortunate!
 
Visit Tammy's Home Page Site.

I'm 'over the hill' as you can see but not yet
'beyond the horizon.'
 I've had a good life, spiced with good times and bad, but the
precious memories of home and God's love are ever present.

"We love our home!"

Genealogy - I've always enjoyed it!       

Genealogy was my favorite hobby for many years.  In
1981, through a friend, I was 'smitten by the bug!'
  No place was ever too far to travel, nor any 'cousin' too isolated
to visit.   My favorite was the time I was transported in the back
of a pickup truck up the side of a North Arkansas mountain,
across a bumpy cow pasture and into a thicket of
shoulder-high underbrush to find a marker in a long neglected
cemetery.   Now that's a DOOZIE of a remembrance!
 But I loved every minute of it!

Cousins have welcomed me with open arms from Texas &
Oklahoma to Georgia & North Carolina.  The correspondence
has been enormous and my files bulge with letters from these
precious people.  They, too, have been anxious to know of
their heritage!

I've fought the dust from many musty ledgers in damp and dark
court house basements that provided information I never could
have found except by seeking it out myself.   I've held precious
original documents that have been preserved in dignity in state
archives, and my heart has raced when a "cousin" handed me
an original document that had survived the ravages of time.

One such treasure was the Marbury Family Bible.
 What emotion when I first held this Bible in
my hands.  

So, have I enjoyed genealogy?  I would think so!
 I love 'old things' like my mother's wooden dough bowl and rolling
pin she purchased in 1916 when she married.  Through the years I
suppose I've collected everything from stamps to stones, and I
relish browsing flea markets for old documents and Bibles.
   I spent some years writing songs and and being a part
of the music business, having had a few of my songs
recorded.  But I found that my true priorities lie in walking
with my Lord.  God has been so good to me and my
family with so many bountiful blessings, I couldn't
ever count them all!

There is so much to enjoy in life, one should never
fall into idleness.

Well, that pretty well sums it up.
Now you know me; an Arkansas country girl!  
God bless and keep you in His loving care,
Aletha

this page dedicated to the memory of Mama,
Lillian Jeannette Brewer Summerhill

8 Jul 1897 - 8 Mar 1983

"I still miss you Mama...every day!"

This site created and maintained by Aletha Summerhill Rogers.   Any published
or commercial  use of the information on this site is strictly prohibited without prior permission.