Matriarchs
Special Mother's Day Post
Family Pilgrimages
Through life’s clutter and obsession with youth sports, I had missed meaningful interactions with some family members. Many were close but some were branches of the family tree that I’d forgotten, only to be recognized at family funerals from across the sanctuary. Either scenario needed attention. I have no excuses to not correct this in my retirement except the price of gasoline. I’ll rant on that in another missive.
I needed a little pomp and circumstance for motivation, so I formally named these excursions, “Family Pilgrimages”. I expect that I will have a logo, hats, and tees soon. There are NO rules for a pilgrimage, just a process. The first step is to arrange for an audience with a loved one and hopefully a bed/couch. Then you get in a car and pseudo randomly drive somewhere near a family member. Stopping at interesting places along the way are creative bonus points but not required. Note: Buc-cees is NOT interesting anymore. With this captive audience, you swap stories, embellish events, share some photos, while basking in all things family. The most important of which is unconditional love and laughter. I’ve trained myself to expect nothing of these events. That way when the surprises occur, I’m open to tears and transformation.
A theme evolved as I pondered my most recent Family Pilgrimages in March 2026.
Matriarch
A female leader who acts as the head, ruler, or dominant figure of a family, tribe, or organization. A revered woman who holds significant authority, guiding family unity, heritage, and decision-making. Characteristics include strength, wisdom, and nurturing.
I Googled this. It fits my family experiences. In fact, it fits a long list of strong women in my community including the wonderful examples I met with in March.
I pray these stories honor those matriarchs of my family who supported my craziness.
Chapter 1 - Volleyball with Cuz
“We’re headed to Arkansas in a few weeks for volleyball. We’re going to Springdale. Probably not very close to you guys.”, Mollie Godwin
Mollie
Nurturing
Cousin Ty Godwin was an early Family Pilgrimage several years ago. I remember the reason for this inaugural pilgrimage was Ty trash talking Arkansas barbeque. This probably isn’t accurate. We spent the weekend eating Oklahoma barbeque including some of his own making. I got an orange tee out of the deal from Oklahoma Joe’s. I got some refrigerator art from Allie and my Uncle Jay for illustrations in my book of poetry. Huge success. It was a wonderful weekend, but I still think Arkansas pork barbeque rules. Nothing like a well-prepared pork butt.
My uncle Jay became ill shortly after Mollie’s text and Ty attended to this emergency in Amarillo. Mollie and I decided to meander forward without him. The event was a U12 club volleyball tournament for Allie in Northwest Arkansas. I couldn’t miss this. I remember those days with my own children. In many ways, Ty’s absence gave Mollie and me a chance to connect on a different level.
The chaotic scene in the hotel lobby was gold for me. Teammates and their parents randomly arriving to screams and yelps brought a big smile. I also met some nice grandparents from North Little Rock, first of my serendipitous surprises. I could feel Mollie’s approach to connecting with me was going to be another surprise. I was not going to sit and cluelessly watch Allie’s games like most senior citizens. I was going to participate in the high five celebrations and girly chants like all the parents. It made the trip special and was a great backdrop of trust and vulnerability for deeper conversations.
Certain words bring an instant connection, a tsunami of emotions with no preparation to avoid. Farming, Colorado, fishing, are just a few word triggers that when used in conversation draw my immediate attention and engagement. The acronym, HR, is one of these. In the mist of catching up and cheering for Allie, Mollie described her current job with Human Resources responsibilities.
There was a time in my work career that I was connected at the hip with some very dedicated and talented Human Resources employees of all levels of the corporate hierarchy. Most of these moments are dark for me. I have “Fox hole syndrome” when it comes to this profession. They are warriors you can count on, therapists, confidants. They always had my back.
When I had my big job, HR protected me from myself during a time I was cynical of our company. They prevented me from going off script which I was arrogantly and selfishly known to do at times. I was the entitled manager protected only by my elevated stature. My importance was certainly no more critical than the unfortunate friends and co-workers sitting in front of us for our most recent RIF (reduction in force). These events seemed endless.
Amid the expansive Springdale Community Center gym, my new best friend and I shared the hypocrisy and raw guttural emotions of our common experiences. Mollie had felt what I felt, real empathy for the families and personal disruption, the blows to their dignity. It never became comfortable. I’m proud of that. I felt her sincere acknowledgement.
In her moment of sharing casually her current professional career, I was plunged deeply into most certainly shared emotions. So deep of a connection can never be broken. The shared community of unspoken feelings. Shared by those in the fox hole together.
“My MIT brother got the brains and I got the looks.”, Mollie laughed.
One phrase, two letters, revealed so much more. This was the greatest serendipity, the surprise that always happens on my journeys. Revealed in this moment was the strength of a mother, a family leader, a matriarch. I could now see in her eyes the ability to bring her A game on demand. In her stories, I saw her empathy. I saw her character to honor and respect those in their most vulnerable time.
I saw Ty and Mollie in Allie. Children reflect their loving mentors. Allie is an athlete and all that encompasses. She is diligent. She appreciates the skills needed and works hard. More importantly, she always had her teammate’s backs, unconditional support, especially for her best friend. Allie obviously loves volleyball. She was still having fun and lasting memories start there.
I also got an epic hot dog at the awesome Springdale Community Center.
Chapter 2 - Food Truck and Dress Shop
It seems insane that I got up at 4 am to drive 610 miles to eat lunch at a food truck in Fritch, Texas. My nephew is a talented and extremely interesting chef. I considered it an appropriate first stop of my next Family Pilgrimage. I met my sister Debbie and cousin Michelle at the food truck. My nephew Brandon did not disappoint. The stated goal of this pilgrimage was for Debbie and me to travel to Follett the next day. We wanted to visit with Tootie Gadberry and possibly put eyes on our great grandmother Long’s dress shop. Everywhere I turned, there was a family matriarch to celebrate.
“Once in a while, you get shown the light in the strangest of places if you look at it right.” Grateful Dead
Michelle
Heritage
“A good friend will help you move. A best friend will help you move the body.” — Unknown
The wind was howling of course. We were in the heart and soul of the Texas panhandle, Fritch, Texas. Well, that may be another exaggeration. I hadn’t stopped in a long bit on my journey but was afraid to step into the porta-potty for relief when I arrived. I was certain it was about to take flight and most certainly would deposit me in Lake Meridith. Michelle was late per script, her script, not Debbie’s or mine. We finally braved the wind to hunker down near the order window.
Outdoor seating was not an option, so we decided to trash Debbie’s fancy car with all the Pilipino juices and sauces. The meal was epic. The vision and business case seem solid. I can’t wait for the next steps, especially a door to keep the wind out and a table that won’t fly away.
Michelle, Debbie and I are close as cousins go. It took little time to catch up on all except the most recent family experiences. Michelle owes the mischievous twinkle in her beautiful eyes and her quick wit to her incomparable father and family icon, Drew. I knew Michelle would not miss this family interaction. Family is important to her. No way she was missing her part of the pilgrimage. She is also the “Godwin Gabfest Agitator”. The Gabfest is our family replacement for a family reunion. It just happens at random times, mostly thanks to Michelle. She is persistent.
Before we knew it, we were midway into a Gabfest planning meeting. Michelle was not missing a quorum or a chance to dole out assignments. Somehow over the constant howl of the wind, a plan developed. Reflection reveals all along it was Michelle’s passive aggressive gentle nudging
friendship with Debbie that has made every Gabfest happen. This works for me.
Emotionally and geographically, I can’t always be there for my sister. Michelle is that best friend for my sister. “Friend” doesn’t seem big enough to define this relationship. They are there for each other when their pain overflows, needing someone to acknowledge and consult. No judgement. No questions asked. Both matriarchs place all their family woes on their own shoulders and seldom ask for help, except from each other. This is deeper than just friendship.
Michelle has a heart for family history, seeking simple times, farm times. She has genetically and ethically passed that on to her progeny. I proudly share this with her. History is important. Our roots are who we are, and the next generation needs to understand, good and bad.
These peas in a pod carry the family torch as important matriarchs. They hold it high and refuel it when the light dims.
Debbie
Strength
“In family life, love is the oil that eases friction, the cement that binds closer together, and the music that brings harmony.” - Friedrich Nietzsche
Our love language is trash talking. We genetically received this from our mom. She was an expert.
My sister is the best of the best at many things. We share many characteristics, both positive and negative. We are both controlling and try to control things we cannot. We overcommit to worthy projects to the point of breaking. She has ugly feet and I own the Godwin grotesque earlobes. Emotionally, she usually sucks it up and I cry a lot. We are both freaks of nature, physically and emotionally.
I managed a significant piece of a $6 Billion Fortune 500 company when I was working but couldn’t manage my emotions and certainly had little influence on Dad during his end times. Debbie was in total control or at least she gave that illusion. I supported her in very rare moments when she needed me. Possibly my brotherly torment when we were younger was the preparation she needed. I doubt it.
Once a year, I travel with friends through Spearman, Texas on our yearly Colorado fishing pilgrimage (yes, I have many pilgrimages). For forty years, we have enjoyed some much-needed spiritual counseling to each other during this time. Our private session begins with coffee at 4 am and continues until the rest of the lazy fishermen riding in my truck awake. This is priceless and precious time together.
So, I was excited Debbie was going to join me on this pilgrimage to see Tootie in Follett and the dress shop. I knew we would have a 4am spiritual counseling meeting. I needed it this year. Unfortunately, I’ve let current politics bleed into and erode my wellness, certainly mental wellbeing. Debbie had no room for it. Her vessel was full. This epiphany highlighted my own selfishness in our relationship. For far too long, I have dumped my problems and projects on her. She is the person who challenges my own bubble, forcing me to think differently. It is always an inclusive viewpoint. She breaks me down when I want to judge, when I want to exclude.
I’ve often wondered how her emotional vessel is not overflowing like a country spring or some years like a volcano. She shoulders so much for her family and community. Here, let me transfer some of mine! This year’s session was important. This time, it was “lets focus on family”.
Matriarchs have the strength of 10 men (literally males, specifically old fat white guys like me). Family is their thing, not the only thing, but always in the forefront. It nurtures every decision. These decisions are forged like iron in a fire. They are always forward facing. Too many loved ones are tethered to these family leaders to ever turn back. They may seem to be anchored for a while, but this is a temporary respite. When it is time, they will cut those anchors loose.
This is my sister.
Tootie
Wisdom
“Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.”
John Wesley
This pilgrimage started at my uncle Loy Burke’s funeral. He was my mom’s brother and son of Jane Burke. I had not seen Tootie or Shawn Gadberry in a month of Sundays. So long in fact, I couldn’t tell you how we were related. Tootie’s son, Gavin, tried to explain it to me at the funeral and it flew right over this old man’s head. As soon as I found out her roots were in the United Methodist Church, the pilgrimage was on. In my family, Methodists are as rare as hen’s teeth.
Damon made the trip with us because he was afraid my sister, love of his life, wouldn’t be able to find her way through a prairie fire if one broke out. The wind had been unusually high. The panhandle has suffered from many of these disastrous events in recent years dangerously burning over a million acres. Debbie, Damon, and I met Tootie and her daughter Shawn Gadberry Ashpaugh in the front yard of Tootie’s Follett home. Smiles and good feelings all around.
“My real name is Devona, but everyone calls me Tootie,” she joked.
This immediately endured me to her again. I’m a third generation “Willard”. All three generations preferred nicknames. Mom and Dad had a weird sense of humor. Every “Hank” in old westerns is a “bad guy”.
First order of business after hugs and introductions was to define our relationship. Shawn easily put her finger on it. “We share a great grandmother.” It still wasn’t good enough for me and it didn’t define my relationship with Tootie. We pursued further. Our grandmother Jane Burke had two sisters, Edythe (she went by Bill) and Nina Jean. Bill was Shawn’s grandmother. Bill was mother of Shawn’s father, John Gadberry, husband to Tootie. Shawn, Debbie and I share Great Grandmother Long (Martha Ann “Anne”). I believe that makes Shawn my second cousin and Tootie my first cousin once removed.
One of my core memories with the Gadberry family was when we were all children, we played at the dress shop in town owned and operated by my Great Grandmother Long since the 1930’s. Let that sink in for a second. Grandmother Long was a rare lady. I remember loving to be around her. I showed Tootie a cute outfit that Grandmother Long gave us for Jason’s birth. Both of Liza’s and my boys came home from the hospital in that two-piece outfit.
Tootie is a very young 88 years old. She was as funny, gracious, and outgoing as I remembered. She was 18 and John 27 when they got married. They eloped to Clayton, New Mexico. John and Walter (Shawn’s grandfather) were partners in farming and ranching. Tootie remembers it took more than two weeks to harvest all the wheat. It must have been a large spread.
Tootie went back to college because John was worried he wouldn’t live long enough to get all his children raised and he wanted her to have something to fall back on if something did happen to him. John never thought he would make it to 60. He lived to be 93. Tootie graduated with a business degree in 1975, the same year her daughter, Shawn, graduated from high school.
Another core memory was when Shawn played in the district basketball tournament in Amarillo. Our family attended to support her. She played in the days of six on six play (3 defensive guards and 3 offensive forwards for each team). Guards were confined to half of the court and forwards the other. It was a different game but every bit athletic and competitive. Shawn made All State her sophomore year in high school. My mom, Ouida, was also a guard for Mobeetie High School.
This was my pilgrimage surprise. I remembered that event but had no idea it was my second cousin that was excelling on the court until this moment 50 years later.
Tootie reminds me of all the interesting and meaningful influences in my long life. These matriarchs have helped sculpt me into the person I have become. The list is long. My grandmothers on both sides, Mom and mother-in-law Liz Thorn, Cousin Linda, Aunt Tria, and my best friend and wife of 50 years, Liza, are the list that comes to mind as I write this. Of course, there are others that are related only through shared life experiences, especially serving others. It is overwhelming emotionally to think of these influential figures in my life. With Tootie, this list expands. I’m so glad I drove to the farthest reaches of Texas to get acquainted with my Gadberry matriarch.