Mildred Smith, early childhood educator known lovingly as ‘Grandma Mildred,’ dies at 95

Editor’s note: This feature is part of a weekly focus from The Star meant to highlight and remember the lives of Black Kansas Citians who have died.

When Mildred Smith would sit across from one of her foster grandchildren for the first time, they often wanted nothing to do with her or her help.

She invariably wore them down with her gentle, soft-spoken resilience.

Mildred was a caretaker in Missouri for dozens of years, working first as a preschool teacher and then as a daycare leader, but she wasn’t sure how to spend her retirement. She didn’t see herself sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch, passing away her golden years, content with a life well-lived, her 66-year-old son, Jessie Smith, said during a recent phone call. She wanted to help, the best way she knew how.

She signed up with the Foster Grandparents of Kansas City program, which placed her inside of St. Luke’s Hospital’s Crittenton Children’s Center, working with children who had come from bad homes or complicated parental arrangements, Jesse said.

A story she often told was of a young boy who would curse her out, using four-letter words he shouldn’t have even been aware of. He’d call her “anything but grandmother,” she’d say.

But eventually she wore him down. He would cling to her leg at the end of the week in tears, not wanting to spend any time apart from his “Grandma Mildred.”

“I think she was drawn more to kids that were hurt the most,” Smith said. “Whether it was physically or mentally, she seemed to be drawn more to them.”

Mildred, whose quiet and steady presence in the lives of children earned her meaningful lifelong relationships along with hard-earned, late-in-life accolades, died Feb. 22, family said. She was 95.

Her family now treasures the awards she once held dear: a printed proclamation, issued by former Kansas City Mayor Mark Funkhouser, honoring her on International Volunteer Day; a translucent, octagon paper weight celebrating her 15 years of service as a foster grandparent; and, of course, the signed letter — on official, White House parchment — she received from former President Barack Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama on her 90th birthday. She kept the envelope, too, with its 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue return address.

“Please accept our best wishes for a happy birthday!” the letter read. “You have been a part of our great American story, lending your voice to the vibrancy of our Nation and offering your experience and wisdom to those around you.”

Her brother-in-law, Dale Tanner, 66, worked at the Crittenton Children’s Center when she did and was aware her reputation preceded her. She never met a child who was so unruly or disrespectful she couldn’t successfully land a hug, Tanner said.

They all referred to her as grandmother, which, despite the name of the program, wasn’t common practice, he said. Most of the staff called her grandmother too.

“That was just in endearment for her,” Tanner said. “As far as I know, no one else was called by mom, or dad, or uncle or anything like that.”

Hard work and heartbreak

The recognition she happily accepted as a grandmother was the result of a long life of giving it her all without any expectation of prizes or special attention.

Her strong will and clear sense of purpose were with her since she was a child, growing up on a farm.

Born on Nov. 15, 1926 in Neelyville, Missouri, Mildred was one of 13 children, with a father who worked as a sharecropper. She learned to plow dirt and grow crops, her brothers were shown how to hunt for animals in the surrounding woods.

She pointed out to her children years later how she and her siblings walked miles to school and back through rain, or shine, or punishing, white-out snow storms that today would shut down districts.

“She actually called the kids lazy,” Smith said with a laugh. “‘They don’t wanna walk to the corner store, and we used to walk miles and miles.’”

Her no-nonsense childhood shaped her into a mature young adult. At the age of 20, she left her hometown and moved to Sikeston, about 70 miles northeast of Neelyville, to pursue a career in early childhood education and join her older siblings who had settled there.

Not long after that, on Dec. 26, 1946, she married Lieutenant Smith, a sweet man with the military-sounding — but actually given — first name whom she had met a couple years earlier. They welcomed a daughter a short time later, their happy family underway, when tragedy blindsided them. Lieutenant was diagnosed with cancer.

After he died, Mildred had five more children whom she raised, but she never remarried, and in some ways never fully recovered from the loss.

The last thing she ever said to Lieutenant, as he lay in a hospital bed, was, “Goodbye.”

She never said goodbye at the end of a phone call, ever again. Loved ones were prepared for her abrupt sign-off.

“Even when we talked to her on the phone, we would say, ‘OK, momma, I’m gonna let you go now,’” Smith said. “She’d just say, ‘OK,’ click. She would hang up.”

‘She just had a love for kids’

Mildred radiated positivity through her heartbreak, as supporting and guiding children became her purpose. She began as a preschool teacher at the Lincoln School in Sikeston and eventually moved to Mexico, Missouri, for a short time, taking a break from education with a position as a housekeeper in a hospital.

She landed in Kansas City, a place she would permanently call home, with the career she always felt called to.

Her longest jobs were at Memorial Church Day Care and Southside Church Day Care, helping toddlers make it through the day, and hopefully learn something. One trick she developed over the years, Smith said, was to use her innately calm personality to keep children in a cool and measured place.

Smith saw that intuitive connection with children from the time he was a child, when he and his siblings were the kids with the cool mom who would gladly open up her doors. A handful of their friends would drop by their home before getting on the bus for school. Mildred fixed breakfast.

“It wasn’t a job, or it wasn’t as some parents said, ‘Oh, wow, I can breathe now, all the kids are gone for the day,’” Smith said. “I don’t think she ever felt like that. She just had a love for kids.”

That feeling, deep inside her, was why she chose to spend an additional 15 years as a foster grandparent, only receiving a modest stipend.

After she retired from that job, in 2012, she still had plenty to keep her busy. She took a Sunday school class at First Baptist Church with several ladies she was friends with. She fished and gardened every chance she got, and painstakingly solved seek-and-find word search games. She said puzzles kept her sharp.

As her health declined in recent years, and she was eventually moved to a rehabilitation center, she never stopped dispensing her favorite wisdom — stuff like, “God gave you one mouth to talk, and two ears to listen.” She had her everyday expressions, too: When someone asked how she was, she often responded with, “I’m fine, fine. Thank the Lord.”

She would also say with regularity, as Jesse can recall, “If you keep moving, you’ll keep moving.”

Recently he’s found himself thinking about all she had to say about striving to do more, no matter how old you are.

“After she passed away, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about things I learned as a kid,” he said. “She’s always pushed to learn from what we do.”

Other remembrances

Harriet Wade

Harriet Wade, a mother of five whose giving spirit led her to work in mental health services and spend countless hours volunteering with ministries, died on March 10, family said in an obituary on the Duane E. Harvey Funeral Directors website. She was 80.

Wade was born on May 29, 1941, in Coffeyville, Kansas, and she went through primary school in the small town. After she graduated from high school, around the age of 18, she moved to Wichita. There, she met Robert Ellison, and later the two wed.

They relocated to Maryland after several years, though Wade eventually moved to Kansas City, Missouri with her children. She met her second husband, Oscar Wade Sr.,and began working for the Missouri Department of Mental Health. She spent a decade at the agency.

Her next job was at House of Lloyd, where she worked for 17 years and made friendships that continued until her passing, the obituary said. Some of her close friends affectionately called her “mother,” the obituary said.

Wade was additionally a devout member of The Historic Boone Tabernacle Church of God in Christ, and she served in several ministries and was president of the church’s Christian Kitchen Ministry. Her cooking was a source of joy for countless people.

She’s survived by her children, Cheryl, Tammy, Gria and Dave; grandchildren, Jeffrey, Keith, Monique, Cole, Nathalie and Julia; and several great-grandchildren.

Vanessa Holmes

Vanessa Holmes, a caring mother and grandmother who was known to a generation of her younger relatives simply as “Aunt Vanessa,” died February 24, loved ones said in an obituary, shared by Golden Gate Funeral & Cremation Services. She was 65.

Born on May 10, 1956, in Kansas City, Missouri, she was the pride and joy of her family, loved ones said. Many of her formative experiences occurred at Paradise Baptist Church, where she learned from the teachings of her reverend, or in school. She graduated from Paseo High School in 1974.

Her career was divided between working at First National Bank and the U.S. Postal Service, but she valued her relationships above all else. She maintained friendships with people through school, work and church, and along the way married Charles Holmes.

Though they didn’t have children, she became the mother to his two children, and later grandmother to their eight children.

Holmes was described by loved ones as a magnetic individual who loved gospel music, cooking and taking care of others, with a knack for lifting people up. She dedicated herself to looking after her parents and grandparents, the obituary said.

She’s survived by her siblings, Patricia Evans and Thomas Wesley III; three nieces; four nephews; one step-son; eight grandchildren; one-great-grandchildren; 29 great-nephews and great-nieces; and several cousins and other relatives.

Mary Wilson

Mary Wilson, a social worker who loved helping people as well as going to church, swimming laps and watching “Game of Thrones,” died March 24, according to a Thatcher Funeral Home obituary. She was 65.

She was born on July 17, 1956, in Kansas City, Kansas, the obituary said. She graduated from Bishop Ward High School in 1974 and went on to Saint Mary College in Leavenworth, Kansas. She felt drawn to social work, majoring in the subject, and later getting her bachelor’s degree.

Wilson spent 30 years as a social worker for the Kansas Department of Social and Rehabilitation Services, retiring in 2010. She spent three decades, too, married to L.T. Wilson S.R., after they wed in 1977. They had one son.

She valued her faith, belonging to the Mt. Carmel Church of God in Christ in Kansas City, Kansas, and valued all the other things she loved — from singing her favorite songs to watching her favorite movies and TV shows.

She’s survived by her son, L.T. Wilson Jr.; siblings, Annie Blount, Cecilia Blount, D. Marie Watson, Cecil Blount, Glen Blount, Kenneth Blount and Robert Blount; grandchildren; nieces; nephews; and other relatives.

This story was originally published April 3, 2022 at 5:00 AM.