Aunt Frona

Frona Cooper was born in Harlan County, Kentucky, on September 26, 1913. She was the third of seven kids, my Papaw Logan being the youngest. She was twelve and a half when he was born, and she thought of him as her little doll.

Frona is an unusual name, and I wondered about its origin. According to Google:  “Frona is a feminine name with Greek origins, believed to be a shortened form of Sophronia, which means 'self-controlled' or 'sensible.' The name appeared in American literature through Rex Beach's 1900 novel The Spoilers, featuring a strong female character named Frona Welse. Though never widely popular, Frona enjoyed modest usage in the early 20th century, particularly in rural communities."

The rural communities part explains a lot, but my “Aint Frone” was not exactly self-controlled or sensible. I remember Uncle Lee telling me that, as a young woman, she dared to paint her fingernails red and wear high heels. Scandalous behavior in rural Kentucky! And she did go on to have four husbands, so...

She showed her strength when her little brother Logan, came down with whooping cough as a toddler.  Frone walked 18 miles round trip to get medicine for him.  Motivated by the need to save him, she went from Reuben's Branch all the way to Pine Mountain School and back, trotting as much as possible.

Frona married young and had a son, James “Jimmy” Blanton. Tragedy struck on Jimmy’s tenth birthday when his uncle took him, his mother, and her friend for a boat ride on the White River in May 1944. The boat capsized, and Jimmy and his uncle drowned while trying to make it to shore. As you can imagine, this was devastating for Frona and the Cooper family. When my dad was born a few years later, he was named James in honor of Jimmy Blanton.

Frona soldiered on.  She stayed close with my Papaw Logan, and Dad grew up calling her “Aunt Dodie.”  He remembers her giving him advice like "Don't stick your tongue out because you will get floomies on it." He also remembers her having a station wagon with a third row of seats that she drove to work at Cummins in Columbus and picked up riders along the way. When dad rode with her, he liked to sit in the very back while she chauffeured him around town.

Years later, when my mom went to the hospital to have my sisters, I got to stay with Aint Frone. At the time, I had very long hair that was easily tangled. When Frone tried to brush my hair, I whined and cried—so she just didn’t brush it. After a few days at her house, it was a wild mess.  She was too soft-hearted to hurt me.

As we grew up, my sisters and I spent a fair amount of time at Frone’s. Her house was equal parts terrifying and fascinating.

After retiring, Frona became a doll doctor. People from all over the country sent her dolls to be restored. When you opened a drawer in her house, you never knew what you might find—glass eyeballs, wigs (hers and the dolls’), assorted arms and legs.

She lived in an old house just outside Brownstown that was formerly the Galamore Schoolhouse. Except for the kitchen, it was dark inside. One of the bedrooms had a picture made of human hair, and another had a permanent doll tea party. The bathroom was ancient and had an accordion-style door that sometimes didn’t unlock. In the corner of the living room was a stairway to the attic—but we were not allowed up there. These are the things nightmares are made of!

On the other hand, she had all sorts of fascinating things and spoiled us when we came to visit. She had modern dolls that we could play with, like Crissy with the growing hair. She gave my sisters Cher and Donny & Marie dolls. I got an antique doll with a china head—boy, was I jealous.

She had all kinds of costumes and jewelry. We would dress up, play her pump organ, and have tea parties with the creepy dolls. When we needed costumes for school projects, we went to her house for authentic period clothing.

We also spent a lot of time in the kitchen. She made us exotic treats like root beer floats, butterscotch cookies, and white chocolate bark. Her specialty was fried chicken cooked in an iron skillet.

Behind the kitchen table were some small, built-in shelves. She had a variety of figurines on them, including several pixies and elves. Her furnace was right behind the shelves, and it made all kinds of noises. She would tell us that the elves were making the noises in there while they were working—and we believed her.

She did all of this while smoking Chesterfield cigarettes. There was a nook between the kitchen and living room where she kept the cigarettes and their coupons. We would look through the catalog and see all the cool things she could get for FREE—just for smoking!!

The smoking probably wasn't a great idea, but Aint Frone lived to the age of 82. Ironically, she died on my dad’s birthday in 1996.  She was a special (and quirky) lady that we were lucky to have her in our lives. I'm sure she would be thrilled to know that James Logan and Linkon James Baute are carrying on her Jimmy's name.