Hattie was my maternal great grandmother, and a true matriarch: Mother of Lucille Lita Smith (nee Lamb) and Mabel King, Mother-in-Law and Aunt to John Gould Smith (Husband of Lucille Lita Lamb), Grandmother to Kathryn Modene Smith (nee Cole, Kinney) (and Mabel King's children, Geneva and Bob). I am told that I met my Great-Grandmother as a small child, but she died in 1967, while we were stationed in Misawa, Japan, and I have no actual memories of her. My sister and I, however, were raised on stories of her and the unconventional life she lived as a single, Victorian woman, living and homesteading alone in the then Texas territory, which became OK territory (SW portion of the state) and then became the last portion of OK opened for homesteading in a land run. She settled on 320 acres of land in SW Jackson County, divided evenly between her two daughters upon her death. She babysat Kathryn as a small child during the depression while her daughter Lucille and John both worked in the fields. My mother told me stories of how during the depression, a lot of transients moved through the countryside, and a woman alone with a small child was a target. Hattie taught Kathryn to take shelter in the fields at night until everyone returned to the house. Hattie would light every room in the house, and then flee to the fields and sit in the dark, quietly until Johnny and Lucille returned home. My mother told me that story when she learned I had a very strong fear of the dark. She told me that the dark held safety. And it worked. When Hattie was in her late 60's, my mother grew frustrated with the number of gentlemen callers Hattie still entertained, and so one afternoon while Hattie kept her "gentleman caller" entertained, Kathryn, her granddaughter filled the back seat of Hattie's four door car with cow shit. She ran hooch from Texas during prohibition and entertained a group of rough and ready cowboys every Thursday night which was poker night until the land "got too civilized" and the cowboys moved on. Hattie's postmaster of many years told me this story, and told me how in her dotage, she would call him up at 2 or 3 in the morning and say, "Lowry, Lowry, you didn't bring me my mail today." He'd explain he was retired now and he'd call her in the morning, and she would let him go back to sleep. Towards the end of her life, my grandmother, Lucille, told me about a time when Hattie had hitched the horse and buggy and insisted Lucille ride with her into "town" (Eldorado) where she had bought both of them completely new outfits. This was still early in the 20th century, so their dresses were long. She outfitted them completely in new dresses, coats, bonnets, gloves, etc., but they were caught in a sudden squall of a thunderstorm on their way home and their clothes were ruined. Lucille was a pragmatic, frugal person and she viewed Hattie's taste for fashion as silly and wasteful. This drenching probably occurred in the early 1900s. Lucille told me the story more than 70 years later, still delighted all those years later at the mess the weather made of her mother's plans. Hattie was a strong woman, she played steel guitar, beautifully, according to my mother, and supposedly played it with a knife. I never tired of hearing srories about Hattie. She lived her life out loud. I heard she had 5 husbands, but that may be exaggeration. She apologized to no one for her choices and gave no concessions to what narrow, conventional minds might think of her choices. Such uncompromising adherence to her principles and to choosing to live her own life by her standards and choices still inspires me to this day.