Clendell “Girlie” Graham-Henry-Barnes: Strength, Sun Tea, and the Sound of Legacy

Family profile adapted from the memories of her children and grandchildren. 

Curated by Kathleen A. Tucker (aka Kat) Her Proud Great-Niece

Born on June 16, 1919, in Forest City, Arkansas, Clendell Graham was the eighth of twelve children born to Mack Graham (1879–1942) and Ada Elizabeth Ford-Graham (1882–1933). Her early life was marked by great loss. At only 14 years old, she lost her mother, and by age 23, both of her parents had passed. Just one year and three months after her mother’s death, Clendell left home at the age of 15 and began building a life of her own.

She married Fred Henry on November 17, 1934, in New Madrid County, Missouri. Together, they had six children, five of whom survived: Marva, Bobbie Jean, Minette, Frieda Diane, and Stanley Frederick. One daughter, Peggy Ann, was stillborn. In the 1940s, the family relocated to St. Louis, where they eventually purchased a two-family flat on Ashland Avenue. That home would become a central gathering place for children and grandchildren like a place filled with memories, love, and the ever-present aroma of rice pudding and mint-laced sun tea steeping in the window.

The second floor of the Ashland home was even leased for a time to Ella Graham, Clendell’s aunt and the sister of Mack Graham, further anchoring the family’s roots in St. Louis. After more than a decade of marriage, Fred passed away in 1961 at the age of 43. In 1966, Clendell married Minor Barnes, a loving man who not only helped raise her younger children but also became “granddaddy” to the next generation.

To most of the Graham-Ford descendants, she was known as Aunt Dell. But within her own line, she was forever known as “Girlie.” The nickname came from her grandson Johnny Johnson (lovingly called Turkey), who as a young child couldn't say "Grandma"—and the name Girlie stuck ever since.

Girlie was a woman of unshakable faith and firm family values. She never learned to drive, but that didn’t stop her from getting to church. If their granddaddy didn’t drive them, the whole family walked together. She raised her children and grandchildren to know and love Creator, and she taught that education and voting were sacred responsibilities. If you needed help getting your diploma or going back to school, Girlie would babysit the little ones so you could press forward. And during elections, she stood proudly at the top of the hill at Handy Park, making her unmistakable "yoo-hoo" call—a sound that could stop a basketball game in progress. Old enough to vote or not, everyone had to come. It wasn’t just about casting a ballot; it was about understanding what that right meant.

Girlie stayed active—walking laps around the park at 5 a.m. with a sturdy stick in hand, while Granddaddy Minor kept close behind with a .22 pistol in his pocket to protect her. Her routine, her resolve, and her joy in caring for others were evident in everything she did. She had a heart big enough to embrace the entire family—and a pair of hands always busy feeding it.

And she loved her family—all of it. She never missed a Graham-Ford Family Reunion, and made sure none of her children or grandchildren did either. Leaving St. Louis by 5 a.m. in whatever cars were running, they made their way to Poplar Bluff, piled in and full of excitement. She especially cherished her siblings. One memory that captures her spirit best is the running game of “last tag” she shared with her sister, Bertha (Aunt Bert). Every time they saw each other; one would tag the other and dart away. That joy lasted a lifetime. Even at her funeral, Aunt Bert leaned in, touched her gently, and said with love and humor, “Last tag.” And someone nearby joked, “Aww man… Aunt Bert won the final round.”

Though she didn’t have an advanced education, Girlie was full of wisdom. She worked briefly cleaning homes but spent most of her life as a housewife, mother, and community pillar. She believed in health, faith, unity, and legacy—and she left all four behind in abundance.

Girlie passed away on December 16, 1990, but she left a sound, a scent, a spirit, and a story that are still very much alive in the hearts of those she raised and those who come after.