The Women Before Me: My Great-Grandmothers in the 1940s
“Our Baby”, the headstone reads, “Dora Marie Holland 1949-1950.” A 17-year-old Mary Alline Holland cried as her first born baby girl was buried, having lived only two months. Alline will go on to have two more children, both girls. She will not speak of Dora Marie, the pain never fading enough to discuss her first child. Decades later, her granddaughter will give birth to a baby girl, named Catherine Mary–a combination of her two great-grandmothers: Mary and Katerina. No one will forget Dora Marie, because if genealogical research iterates anything, it is that our lineage is not only influenced by the surviving.
It is within the women of my family that I see myself. I stare at the photograph on the screen, the girl in the center resembles my father–no, she resembles me. “That’s me with my sisters,” my paternal grandmother says, pointing to the girl. I am met with a mirror image of my own face as I watch her age in a series of photographs. Researching my family history tethered me to the women of the past–my past. A product of a long line of young mothers, I knew my maternal great-grandmother well. At the time of my birth, I had 3 great-grandparents alive, as well as my second great-grandmother, Nellie Jones. Every woman in my lineage has lived a different life, but all their journeys have influenced mine. It is their paths–their joys, hardships, and tough decisions–that have brought me to where I am. Between 1940 and 1950, my great-grandmothers endured political conflict, family loss, and suffering, but that decade influenced the future generations of my family.
My great-grandmother Victoria Ruiz, the mother of my paternal grandmother, was 20 when she married 18-year-old Bert Joseph Galloway. Shortly after, Bert was deployed overseas to the Philippines and various Pacific Islands where he was a part of the 32nd Infantry Division, or “The Red Arrow.” There, Bert scouted and tracked Japanese troops until eventual success in the Pacific allowed him to return home. During this time, Victoria also watched as her brother, Frank Ruiz, was deployed overseas. Stationed in Europe, he spent time in England before fighting in France. While his return was highly anticipated by his family, a telegram was sent in his place, breaking the news that Frank would not be returning from France. While everyone celebrated the victory, Victoria mourned the loss of her brother, a causality of war. Her husband had returned home to his family, but Frank would never get that chance. The last years of the war brought little comfort, even with Bert’s safe return, “When he came back stateside, he was sent to Fort Hood, and of course, him and mom were married before he went off to World War II. When he came back, mom went with him to Fort Hood and they were there until his army hitch was over” [1.] In Texas, Victoria faced prejudice for her American Indian heritage. Public spaces were segregated, and as an American Indian, Victoria was unable to use any public space designated for white people only. Despite her husband and brother’s sacrifice and service for the country, they were still treated as second-rate citizens due their skin color.
While Victoria Ruiz kissed her husband and brother goodbye as they were deployed, my other paternal great-grandmother, Katerina Kalamatianos, said farewell to her home. Pregnant with her first child, she and her husband Dimitrios fled their home, located in the village of Nydri on the Ionian Greek Island of Lefkada, under the threat of German invasion. After two years of Italian occupation between 1941 and 1944, the Ionian Islands were transferred into German possession in 1944. It was this year that my great-uncle, John Frangoulis, was born. As the islands faced German capture, Katerina and her family sought safety in the hills. Pregnant Katerina was forced to give birth to John away from her home and in the safety of a hidden cave. The home they fled faced severe damage from the invasion, forcing them to rebuild much of the structure upon their return home. The family house sits today in the village of Nydri, acting as a halfway point between the top of the island, Eglouvi, where many of my relatives still live, and the now popular tourist attractions of the Lefkada coast. While John immigrated to the United States in the 1960s, the house in Lefkada remains a part of the family. I visited the house in 2015, a journey that made me feel more connected to the Greek relatives I did not get to meet. While visiting Lefkada, I passed the cemetery where Katerina was buried and thought about all that she sacrificed for motherhood. The danger and fear she felt did not stop her from making a home for her family–a home that continues to exist today.
While society was still celebrating the Allies’ triumph in World War II, the end of the ‘40s brought forth new suffering for the newly formed Holland Family. My maternal great-grandmother, the matriarch of my family for decades, passed away in 2019. With her legacy, she left us in reflection of the silent struggles she endured during her lifetime but never dwelled upon. Mary Alline Barry consistently went by “Alline” after her childhood years, as unrelenting childhood teasing forced her to hate her chosen name. She was only 16 years old in 1948 when her father brought her to a dance hall, where she spotted Randall Dee Holland from across the room, 26 years old at the time. Randall asked her to dance and the two never stopped. A year later the two married and Mary soon after was pregnant with her first child. She gave birth to her daughter, Dora Marie Holland, on November 8, 1949. Alline buried her first child only two months later while still a child herself. The struggles of the war she had endured as a child were over, but Alline quickly learned that adulthood came with new hardships. Her lifelong dream, albeit only 17 short years, was to be a mother. The miracle she held so shortly in her hands was ripped away by the sudden death of her baby.
While I only met Alline Holland out of the three great-grandmothers I have researched, I feel closer to Katerina and Victoria now more than ever. Their sacrifices have led my family to where we are today and their decisions affect me in life even after their death. My great-grandmother, Alline, has always been my idol. I can only imagine the wisdom and influence that Katerina and Victoria would have had on me if given the chance to meet them.
[1.] Patricia Galloway, interviewed by author, Las Vegas, 30 September, 2022.