Ethel Juanita Huffman, 73, of Blue Ash, died March 11, 2015, at Hospice Center of Cincinnati. Born in Eubank, Kentucky, August 6, 1941, to Waco and Dovie Griffin Manning, Ethel was fourth eldest of eighteen brothers and sisters. She married Harvey Lee Huffman May 9, 1970.
She was a dedicated employee to the Kmart Corporation for 35 years and built loving friendships with her colleagues. Family history and genealogy were her passion, thus leading to her studying at Raymond Walters College. She traced her family lineage back seven generations on eight family branches.
Ethel was the most dedicated and loving Wife, Mother, Mamaw, Sister, Friend, and a genuine person who will be missed deeply by all that were fortunate enough to cross her path.
Survivors are her beloved son, Jeffrey Dale Morris and wife, Samantha (Sears) Morris of Reading, OH; her beloved daughter, Laura Jean (Huffman) Franks and husband Brian Scott Franks of Williamstown, KY; loving step-sons, Michael Huffman of OH and Billy Huffman of LA; She was a loving Mamaw to Lindie Nichole Huffman-Spillman and husband Robert Tennyson Spillman of Williamstown, KY, Michael Joseph Morris of Dixon, CA, Felicia Huffman of Cincinnati, OH, and Regina Huffman of KY.
She is also survived by 11 brothers and sisters, Clyda Estes, Jesse Manning, Martha Kirby, William Manning, Charles Manning, Dorothy Flannery, Jerry Manning, Gary Manning, Rose Thompson, Billy Ray Hash, and Jimmie Hash.
She was preceded in death by her husband of 38 years, Harvey Lee Huffman, her beloved father and mother Waco and Dovie (Griffin) Manning; step-mothers, Anna Wesco, Edith Whitter and Lucille Dalton; brothers and sisters, Garvey Ray Manning, Mary Manning, Donna Jean Manning, Johnnie Manning, Brent Robert Hash, and Arlis Hash Jr.
Visitation is Monday, March 16th, 6-8 PM and 12 Noon until the funeral at 1PM on Tuesday, March 17th, at Strawser Funeral Home, 9503 Kenwood Rd., Blue Ash, OH 452452.
In lieu of flowers donations may be made to the funeral home in her memory.
~~~~
In Honor of Ethel...
The Chosen
We are the chosen. In each family there is one who seems called to find the ancestors. To put flesh on their bones and make them live again. To tell the family story and to feel that somehow they know and approve.
Doing genealogy is not a cold gathering of facts but, instead, breathing life into all who have gone before. We are the story tellers of the tribe. All tribes have one. We have been called, as it were, by our genes. Those who have gone before cry out to us: Tell our story. So, we do.
In finding them, we somehow find ourselves. How many graves have I stood before now and cried? I have lost count. How many times have I told the ancestors, "You have a wonderful family; you would be proud of us.". How many times have I walked up to a grave and felt somehow there was love there for me? I cannot say.
It goes beyond just documenting facts. It goes to who I am, and why I do the things I do. It goes to seeing a cemetery about to be lost forever to weeds and indifference and saying - I can't let this happen. The bones here are bones of my bone and flesh of my flesh. It goes to doing something about it.
It goes to pride in what our ancestors were able to accomplish. How they contributed to what we are today. It goes to respecting their hardships and losses, their never giving in or giving up, their resoluteness to go on and build a life for their family. It goes to deep pride that the fathers fought and some died to make and keep us a nation.
It goes to a deep and immense understanding that they were doing it for us. It is of equal pride and love that our mothers struggled to give us birth, without them we could not exist, and so we love each one, as far back as we can reach. That we might be born who we are. That we might remember them. So we do.
With love and caring and scribing each fact of their existence, because we are they and they are the sum of who we are. So, as a scribe called, I tell the story of my family. It is up to that one called in the next generation to answer the call and take my place in the long line of family storytellers.
That is why I do my family genealogy, and that is what calls those young and old to step up and restore the memory or greet those who we had never known before.
by Della M Cummings Wright; rewritten by her granddaughter Dell Jo Ann McGinnis Johnson; edited and reworded by Tom Dunn, 1943
She was a dedicated employee to the Kmart Corporation for 35 years and built loving friendships with her colleagues. Family history and genealogy were her passion, thus leading to her studying at Raymond Walters College. She traced her family lineage back seven generations on eight family branches.
Ethel was the most dedicated and loving Wife, Mother, Mamaw, Sister, Friend, and a genuine person who will be missed deeply by all that were fortunate enough to cross her path.
Survivors are her beloved son, Jeffrey Dale Morris and wife, Samantha (Sears) Morris of Reading, OH; her beloved daughter, Laura Jean (Huffman) Franks and husband Brian Scott Franks of Williamstown, KY; loving step-sons, Michael Huffman of OH and Billy Huffman of LA; She was a loving Mamaw to Lindie Nichole Huffman-Spillman and husband Robert Tennyson Spillman of Williamstown, KY, Michael Joseph Morris of Dixon, CA, Felicia Huffman of Cincinnati, OH, and Regina Huffman of KY.
She is also survived by 11 brothers and sisters, Clyda Estes, Jesse Manning, Martha Kirby, William Manning, Charles Manning, Dorothy Flannery, Jerry Manning, Gary Manning, Rose Thompson, Billy Ray Hash, and Jimmie Hash.
She was preceded in death by her husband of 38 years, Harvey Lee Huffman, her beloved father and mother Waco and Dovie (Griffin) Manning; step-mothers, Anna Wesco, Edith Whitter and Lucille Dalton; brothers and sisters, Garvey Ray Manning, Mary Manning, Donna Jean Manning, Johnnie Manning, Brent Robert Hash, and Arlis Hash Jr.
Visitation is Monday, March 16th, 6-8 PM and 12 Noon until the funeral at 1PM on Tuesday, March 17th, at Strawser Funeral Home, 9503 Kenwood Rd., Blue Ash, OH 452452.
In lieu of flowers donations may be made to the funeral home in her memory.
~~~~
In Honor of Ethel...
The Chosen
We are the chosen. In each family there is one who seems called to find the ancestors. To put flesh on their bones and make them live again. To tell the family story and to feel that somehow they know and approve.
Doing genealogy is not a cold gathering of facts but, instead, breathing life into all who have gone before. We are the story tellers of the tribe. All tribes have one. We have been called, as it were, by our genes. Those who have gone before cry out to us: Tell our story. So, we do.
In finding them, we somehow find ourselves. How many graves have I stood before now and cried? I have lost count. How many times have I told the ancestors, "You have a wonderful family; you would be proud of us.". How many times have I walked up to a grave and felt somehow there was love there for me? I cannot say.
It goes beyond just documenting facts. It goes to who I am, and why I do the things I do. It goes to seeing a cemetery about to be lost forever to weeds and indifference and saying - I can't let this happen. The bones here are bones of my bone and flesh of my flesh. It goes to doing something about it.
It goes to pride in what our ancestors were able to accomplish. How they contributed to what we are today. It goes to respecting their hardships and losses, their never giving in or giving up, their resoluteness to go on and build a life for their family. It goes to deep pride that the fathers fought and some died to make and keep us a nation.
It goes to a deep and immense understanding that they were doing it for us. It is of equal pride and love that our mothers struggled to give us birth, without them we could not exist, and so we love each one, as far back as we can reach. That we might be born who we are. That we might remember them. So we do.
With love and caring and scribing each fact of their existence, because we are they and they are the sum of who we are. So, as a scribe called, I tell the story of my family. It is up to that one called in the next generation to answer the call and take my place in the long line of family storytellers.
That is why I do my family genealogy, and that is what calls those young and old to step up and restore the memory or greet those who we had never known before.
by Della M Cummings Wright; rewritten by her granddaughter Dell Jo Ann McGinnis Johnson; edited and reworded by Tom Dunn, 1943
Ethel Juanita Huffman, 73, of Blue Ash, died March 11, 2015, at Hospice Center of Cincinnati. Born in Eubank, Kentucky, August 6, 1941, to Waco and Dovie Griffin Manning, Ethel was fourth eldest of eighteen brothers and sisters. She married Harvey Lee Huffman May 9, 1970.
She was a dedicated employee to the Kmart Corporation for 35 years and built loving friendships with her colleagues. Family history and genealogy were her passion, thus leading to her studying at Raymond Walters College. She traced her family lineage back seven generations on eight family branches.
Ethel was the most dedicated and loving Wife, Mother, Mamaw, Sister, Friend, and a genuine person who will be missed deeply by all that were fortunate enough to cross her path.
Survivors are her beloved son, Jeffrey Dale Morris and wife, Samantha (Sears) Morris of Reading, OH; her beloved daughter, Laura Jean (Huffman) Franks and husband Brian Scott Franks of Williamstown, KY; loving step-sons, Michael Huffman of OH and Billy Huffman of LA; She was a loving Mamaw to Lindie Nichole Huffman-Spillman and husband Robert Tennyson Spillman of Williamstown, KY, Michael Joseph Morris of Dixon, CA, Felicia Huffman of Cincinnati, OH, and Regina Huffman of KY.
She is also survived by 11 brothers and sisters, Clyda Estes, Jesse Manning, Martha Kirby, William Manning, Charles Manning, Dorothy Flannery, Jerry Manning, Gary Manning, Rose Thompson, Billy Ray Hash, and Jimmie Hash.
She was preceded in death by her husband of 38 years, Harvey Lee Huffman, her beloved father and mother Waco and Dovie (Griffin) Manning; step-mothers, Anna Wesco, Edith Whitter and Lucille Dalton; brothers and sisters, Garvey Ray Manning, Mary Manning, Donna Jean Manning, Johnnie Manning, Brent Robert Hash, and Arlis Hash Jr.
Visitation is Monday, March 16th, 6-8 PM and 12 Noon until the funeral at 1PM on Tuesday, March 17th, at Strawser Funeral Home, 9503 Kenwood Rd., Blue Ash, OH 452452.
In lieu of flowers donations may be made to the funeral home in her memory.
~~~~
In Honor of Ethel...
The Chosen
We are the chosen. In each family there is one who seems called to find the ancestors. To put flesh on their bones and make them live again. To tell the family story and to feel that somehow they know and approve.
Doing genealogy is not a cold gathering of facts but, instead, breathing life into all who have gone before. We are the story tellers of the tribe. All tribes have one. We have been called, as it were, by our genes. Those who have gone before cry out to us: Tell our story. So, we do.
In finding them, we somehow find ourselves. How many graves have I stood before now and cried? I have lost count. How many times have I told the ancestors, "You have a wonderful family; you would be proud of us.". How many times have I walked up to a grave and felt somehow there was love there for me? I cannot say.
It goes beyond just documenting facts. It goes to who I am, and why I do the things I do. It goes to seeing a cemetery about to be lost forever to weeds and indifference and saying - I can't let this happen. The bones here are bones of my bone and flesh of my flesh. It goes to doing something about it.
It goes to pride in what our ancestors were able to accomplish. How they contributed to what we are today. It goes to respecting their hardships and losses, their never giving in or giving up, their resoluteness to go on and build a life for their family. It goes to deep pride that the fathers fought and some died to make and keep us a nation.
It goes to a deep and immense understanding that they were doing it for us. It is of equal pride and love that our mothers struggled to give us birth, without them we could not exist, and so we love each one, as far back as we can reach. That we might be born who we are. That we might remember them. So we do.
With love and caring and scribing each fact of their existence, because we are they and they are the sum of who we are. So, as a scribe called, I tell the story of my family. It is up to that one called in the next generation to answer the call and take my place in the long line of family storytellers.
That is why I do my family genealogy, and that is what calls those young and old to step up and restore the memory or greet those who we had never known before.
by Della M Cummings Wright; rewritten by her granddaughter Dell Jo Ann McGinnis Johnson; edited and reworded by Tom Dunn, 1943
She was a dedicated employee to the Kmart Corporation for 35 years and built loving friendships with her colleagues. Family history and genealogy were her passion, thus leading to her studying at Raymond Walters College. She traced her family lineage back seven generations on eight family branches.
Ethel was the most dedicated and loving Wife, Mother, Mamaw, Sister, Friend, and a genuine person who will be missed deeply by all that were fortunate enough to cross her path.
Survivors are her beloved son, Jeffrey Dale Morris and wife, Samantha (Sears) Morris of Reading, OH; her beloved daughter, Laura Jean (Huffman) Franks and husband Brian Scott Franks of Williamstown, KY; loving step-sons, Michael Huffman of OH and Billy Huffman of LA; She was a loving Mamaw to Lindie Nichole Huffman-Spillman and husband Robert Tennyson Spillman of Williamstown, KY, Michael Joseph Morris of Dixon, CA, Felicia Huffman of Cincinnati, OH, and Regina Huffman of KY.
She is also survived by 11 brothers and sisters, Clyda Estes, Jesse Manning, Martha Kirby, William Manning, Charles Manning, Dorothy Flannery, Jerry Manning, Gary Manning, Rose Thompson, Billy Ray Hash, and Jimmie Hash.
She was preceded in death by her husband of 38 years, Harvey Lee Huffman, her beloved father and mother Waco and Dovie (Griffin) Manning; step-mothers, Anna Wesco, Edith Whitter and Lucille Dalton; brothers and sisters, Garvey Ray Manning, Mary Manning, Donna Jean Manning, Johnnie Manning, Brent Robert Hash, and Arlis Hash Jr.
Visitation is Monday, March 16th, 6-8 PM and 12 Noon until the funeral at 1PM on Tuesday, March 17th, at Strawser Funeral Home, 9503 Kenwood Rd., Blue Ash, OH 452452.
In lieu of flowers donations may be made to the funeral home in her memory.
~~~~
In Honor of Ethel...
The Chosen
We are the chosen. In each family there is one who seems called to find the ancestors. To put flesh on their bones and make them live again. To tell the family story and to feel that somehow they know and approve.
Doing genealogy is not a cold gathering of facts but, instead, breathing life into all who have gone before. We are the story tellers of the tribe. All tribes have one. We have been called, as it were, by our genes. Those who have gone before cry out to us: Tell our story. So, we do.
In finding them, we somehow find ourselves. How many graves have I stood before now and cried? I have lost count. How many times have I told the ancestors, "You have a wonderful family; you would be proud of us.". How many times have I walked up to a grave and felt somehow there was love there for me? I cannot say.
It goes beyond just documenting facts. It goes to who I am, and why I do the things I do. It goes to seeing a cemetery about to be lost forever to weeds and indifference and saying - I can't let this happen. The bones here are bones of my bone and flesh of my flesh. It goes to doing something about it.
It goes to pride in what our ancestors were able to accomplish. How they contributed to what we are today. It goes to respecting their hardships and losses, their never giving in or giving up, their resoluteness to go on and build a life for their family. It goes to deep pride that the fathers fought and some died to make and keep us a nation.
It goes to a deep and immense understanding that they were doing it for us. It is of equal pride and love that our mothers struggled to give us birth, without them we could not exist, and so we love each one, as far back as we can reach. That we might be born who we are. That we might remember them. So we do.
With love and caring and scribing each fact of their existence, because we are they and they are the sum of who we are. So, as a scribe called, I tell the story of my family. It is up to that one called in the next generation to answer the call and take my place in the long line of family storytellers.
That is why I do my family genealogy, and that is what calls those young and old to step up and restore the memory or greet those who we had never known before.
by Della M Cummings Wright; rewritten by her granddaughter Dell Jo Ann McGinnis Johnson; edited and reworded by Tom Dunn, 1943
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