Johnnie Mae Croft

Johnnie is survived by her daughter; Lisa Cherry, grandson; Jacob Cherry, brother; Jack Newton, and sister; Brenda Dillard (Clint).

A graveside service for Johnnie will be held Monday, June 24, 2024 at 10:30 AM at Kennesaw Memorial Park, 1306 Whitlock Ave SW, Marietta, GA 30064.

In lieu of flowers, please donate to Saint Jude's or the Radio Bible Class in Johnnie's name.

Johnnie’s daughter Lisa penned the following tribute to her mother:

Throughout my short 55+ trip around the sun, I have held many titles: mother, teacher, best friend, chief cook and bottlewasher, ex-wife of that narcissist. I have no problem owning up to the list of adjectives people often use to describe me: child of God, proud Southern belle, diehard patriot, bibliophile, Elton John nut. Regardless of how you know me or how long you’ve been in my life, however, there’s no disputing that I was and I still am a “Daddy’s Girl.” I dislike the term because of the infantile, psychological connotations it carries. But it's shorthand for a child who is doted upon by her father. At this point you’re probably wondering why I am beginning an obituary for my mother Johnnie Mae Croft with a nod to my father Linton Eugene. Isn’t this funerary supposed to pay tribute to the female portion of this parenting duo instead?

Actually, it does, for if I am worthy of all these titles described above, I am also deserving of the byname Wizard of Oz aficionado, and when I realized my precious mother was dying several weeks ago, I began drafting this narrative in my head. I knew that the perfect analogy to summarize how I feel about her passing would come from the end of this 1939 classic film. With a hot air balloon wafting back and forth in the distance, Dorothy readies herself for the return trip to Kansas, turning to gift each traveler on the Yellow Brick Road with a few words of love and advice. She utters a tearful goodbye to The Cowardly Lion and The Tin Man, but her heart’s sickness overwhelms her when she faces The Scarecrow.

“Oh, I think I’ll miss you most of all,” she weeps. Toto twists in her arms. She closes the balloon’s gate, drifts off into the sky, and spies Kansas on the horizon.

For decades, film critics and literary scholars have tried to explain why Dorothy saves an extra bit of affection for this man of straw above all of her traveling companions. Was it because The Scarecrow was the first person she encountered in Oz and therefore her longest confidant? Did he perform more acts of bravery and rescue for her than other friends? I can’t put my finger on the logical reason either, but I understand it because my mother, Johnnie Mae Croft, was my Scarecrow. She was present in every scene of my life. For Dorothy, it was the apple orchard, Munchkin land, the evil witch’s castle. For me, it was school, career, breakups (of the marital and orthopedic kind), and parenting Jacob. Mom was always there for me behind the curtain pulling strings, content to take a backseat, a humble place in my story. This fact alone makes her a giant in spirit and soul, a moral potency this ugly world couldn’t handle and a force our family will never replace.

I am flooded with memories…

- Mallomars.

- Marshmallow chocolate eggs in the crate for Easter.

- Long red nails.

- Hard strawberry candy and gum in that special purse pocket for church.

- Espadrilles with just a few painted toes sticking out.

- Being sick and craving your cheese grits. No one could make them with the same consistency that you did.

- Other culinary delights: homemade soup, holiday dressing that contained real dried sage, chocolate icing made from scratch.

- Jewelry and more jewelry.

- Crafting together, especially the Christmas plates and brooches with 1920s faces on them.

- The 1969 Firebird. You were so brave. You learned to drive just so you could take me to kindergarten.

- Did I mention sweets and jewelry?

- Getting in a fight in grade school with mean girls who made fun of your curly hair.

- Gene Watson’s Farewell Party.

- You holding me tight the whole night our house was broken into, easing my fears and agitation.

- Eating out of the dipping spoon at Sweet Tomatoes.

- Getting your kitchen and bathroom floors on Roselane Street redone despite your detractors. Such words from friends and even family were cruel but they could never understand. It was about a different form of pride and respecting the love that filled a diminutive 4-room house.

- Collecting shoes of the trinket kind, not those that you wear.

- Family legend story that may or may not be exaggerated: Skipping school and chewing a case of the bubble gum in your dad’s store with your sister Wylene when you were just a kid.

- Your obsession with Family Feud, the Hallmark Channel, and…prison movies.

- The “electric” college and “Don’t play that so loud. You’ll deefen’ me!”

- A hope chest full of love letters from my dad when he was away on military duty in France.

- Sharing ½ of what you had with others, making plates of food to take to everyone in need – i.e. Kathleen, Shorty.

- Dressing up like a mismatched monster on Halloween and scaring your sister-in-law Joyce by touching her and moaning at the door.

The last item on my list is The Little Engine That Could, the famous Golden Book that you read to me over and over when I was just a toddler. In this well-loved classic, a little train carrying oodles of toys to all of the good boys and girls is confronted with a towering, seemingly impassable mountain. As nicely as they ask, the toys cannot convince the Shiny New Engine or the Big Strong Engine--far too impressed with themselves--to say anything but "I cannot. I cannot." It is left up to the Little Blue Engine to overcome insurmountable odds and pull the train to the other side. Its rallying mantra - "I think I can--I think I can" – still resonates in my head as an adult. Even today I can hear you read it to me with the familiar chug chug chugging noises. Your willingness to recite that text a million times was the sole reason I chose teaching as a profession, and why I find solace in literature today. Just another one of your silent influences, unsung contributions to my person.

Mom, I leave you with this thought: You thought you could -- You thought you could. In my eyes, you did. You did. Today’s generation of women are so unsure of many basic life principles related to their sex: gender identity, the beautiful Biblical ramifications of submitting to a man, prioritizing work and home duties. You had a firm grip on all these tenets, and you made their application in reality look effortless. If, when I draw my last breath, I am a fraction of the role model for women that you were to me, then I will be satisfied.

Love,

Lisa Diane Cherry, Daddy’s Girl and Mama’s Unworthy Understudy