THE TANTALIZING aromas emanating from Cecelia Theresa
Smith's home would waft around the corner to the Holy
Temple Holiness Church and whoever was present would
instantly be alerted.
"Sister Smith is cooking!" went the cry.
And pastor and parishioners would bolt around the
corner to find Sister Smith in her customary place at
the kitchen stove preparing her soul-food specialities,
and everyone was welcome to partake.
People would simply show up at her North Philadelphia
home and say, "What are you cooking today? I smell
something."
There was always food sizzling at Sister Smith's home
and there was usually a crowd of family, friends,
neighbors and, of course, church folk, crowded around to
stuff themselves on her fried chicken and other Southern
delights.
And, although Cecelia had six children, it often felt
like she had many more because children seemed to come
from everywhere just to be in her comfortable presence.
Cecelia, a devoted churchwoman, onetime employee of
the old Philadelphia Naval Shipyard and a shirt laundry,
and matriarch of a total of 125 descendants, died April
3. She turned 101 on that day.
Although Cecelia loved children, she didn't take any
nonsense from them. If they misbehaved, they got a good
spanking, and it didn't matter whose children they were.
Often, the miscreants would go home and get another
licking from parents who knew that if Miss Toots, as
Cecelia was known in the neighborhood, had reason to
punish the kids, they deserved it.
"I sometimes thought she never slept," said her
daughter Gladys Eleanor Jenkins. "Kids would walk past
her house at night, and she'd be at the window shouting,
'Where you comin' from this time of night?' And they
better have had a good reason."
Cecelia was known as the "hat lady." She always had a
stylish hat, and she wouldn't have dreamed of leaving
her home for church without matching shoes and purse and
a jaunty hat.
At Holy Temple, 29th and Dauphin streets, she was on
various ministries and visited the sick and shut-ins as
a licensed mission worker.
Cecelia was born in Danville, Va., to Alice and
William Holman. The family came to Philadelphia when she
was a child.
She married Arnold Eugene Smith in 1930. He died in
1962.
She worked as a laundress for the Naval Shipyard,
then was employed for 18 years by the Fawn Shirt Laundry
before retiring in the early '80s.
Cecelia had a special fondness for the ironing board.
Long after she officially retired, men would take her
their shirts, which she would launder and iron at home.
Sometimes she would have 25 or 30 shirts to do, and
she wouldn't take any money for the work.
"She would say, 'Why should I take money for doing
what I love?' " her daughter said. "She thought giving
her cash was an insult. However, if somebody wanted to
give her a hat, she'd take that."
Cecelia, who was a feisty 4 feet 9, was remarkably
healthy all her life. In her final years, nurses would
go into her room and ask where her medicine was. There
was no medicine.
"She wouldn't even take an aspirin," her daughter
said.
Cecelia never complained or would admit she was in
any pain in her final years.
"If you asked her how she was doing, she would always
say, 'I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm doing good.' "
Even when she could no longer speak, she would smile
and wink to let everyone know that her body might be
weak, but her spirit was still strong.
Cecelia also is survived by two sons, Arnold Richard
Dukes Smith and Frederick Oliver Smith; another
daughter, Florence Irene Hodges; 22 grandchildren; 48
great-grandchildren; 48 great-great-grandchildren, and
one great-great-great-grandchild. She was predeceased by
a son, Joseph Simmons, and a daughter, Elizabeth Bishop.
Services: Were Saturday. Burial was in
Fernwood Cemetery, Delaware County.