Aunt Mae was born November 24, 1920 in Nolan County to Hatton Marshall, Sr., and Edna Mae Hanna Moore. She married Ned Edward Smith in 1936 in Colorado City, and they had four children: Mary Edna, John Marshall, Joe Edward and Carolyn Dianne. Ned died in 1969.
Mae shared a property for several years in Colorado City with her parents. They had separate houses surrounded by cotton fields. She retired from nursing after 32 years and moved to a similar setup in Aurora with her son Joe and his family. It was there that I got to spend a lot of time with her, playing canasta with her and her sister and best friend, Margaret, my grandmother. Canasta was a Moore family passion, though sticking to the rules from game to game was not. We would have to sit down and determine all the parameters before we started, and it usually depended on how many decks of cards we had managed to pull together.
Canasta usually lasted from early afternoon to well into the evening, and we would listen to old country music, sing along, and talk a lot. Mae was sort of old-fashioned in her views - particularly about love and marriage - and she could not be swayed, but she also didn't try to sway anyone else. It was easy to talk to her about anything and everything, though she was prone to saying, "Well, I'll be," and then stating her opposite opinion, without looking up from her cards. When she would catch me staring at her, she would look up and say, "I'm telling you the truth." I always sat to her left when we played, which meant her discard could give me the pile of cards, and she didn't like anyone taking the pile. She knew how to watch what I played and keep the pile from me, until it got down to the end of a game. She would say, "I know you're going to take that pile, but I can't hold you off any longer! Go ahead! Take it, I know you want to!" Granny and I got a kick about her dramatic "giving up of the pile."
Like her sister, Mae was a big animal lover. She had a dog named Cinnamon, who she adored, and she fed stray cats who showed up on her property, whether they were feral or friendly.
Mae was survived by her sons, John and Joe, her daughters, Mary and Carolyn, and their husbands, Tom Jamison and Leo Swartling. She also left behind grandchildren Tom, Teresa, Scott, Gabe, Todd, Dean, Eddie, Amy and Sheldon, as well as twenty great-grandchildren and five great-great-grandchildren, and two brothers - DA and Cal Wayne. Siblings Bobby Joe, Billy Ray, Margaret Elizabeth, and Hatton Marshall, Jr, preceded her in death, along with her husband, her parents and a daughter-in-law, Cheryl Lynn Lewis Smith.
Mae shared a property for several years in Colorado City with her parents. They had separate houses surrounded by cotton fields. She retired from nursing after 32 years and moved to a similar setup in Aurora with her son Joe and his family. It was there that I got to spend a lot of time with her, playing canasta with her and her sister and best friend, Margaret, my grandmother. Canasta was a Moore family passion, though sticking to the rules from game to game was not. We would have to sit down and determine all the parameters before we started, and it usually depended on how many decks of cards we had managed to pull together.
Canasta usually lasted from early afternoon to well into the evening, and we would listen to old country music, sing along, and talk a lot. Mae was sort of old-fashioned in her views - particularly about love and marriage - and she could not be swayed, but she also didn't try to sway anyone else. It was easy to talk to her about anything and everything, though she was prone to saying, "Well, I'll be," and then stating her opposite opinion, without looking up from her cards. When she would catch me staring at her, she would look up and say, "I'm telling you the truth." I always sat to her left when we played, which meant her discard could give me the pile of cards, and she didn't like anyone taking the pile. She knew how to watch what I played and keep the pile from me, until it got down to the end of a game. She would say, "I know you're going to take that pile, but I can't hold you off any longer! Go ahead! Take it, I know you want to!" Granny and I got a kick about her dramatic "giving up of the pile."
Like her sister, Mae was a big animal lover. She had a dog named Cinnamon, who she adored, and she fed stray cats who showed up on her property, whether they were feral or friendly.
Mae was survived by her sons, John and Joe, her daughters, Mary and Carolyn, and their husbands, Tom Jamison and Leo Swartling. She also left behind grandchildren Tom, Teresa, Scott, Gabe, Todd, Dean, Eddie, Amy and Sheldon, as well as twenty great-grandchildren and five great-great-grandchildren, and two brothers - DA and Cal Wayne. Siblings Bobby Joe, Billy Ray, Margaret Elizabeth, and Hatton Marshall, Jr, preceded her in death, along with her husband, her parents and a daughter-in-law, Cheryl Lynn Lewis Smith.
Aunt Mae was born November 24, 1920 in Nolan County to Hatton Marshall, Sr., and Edna Mae Hanna Moore. She married Ned Edward Smith in 1936 in Colorado City, and they had four children: Mary Edna, John Marshall, Joe Edward and Carolyn Dianne. Ned died in 1969.
Mae shared a property for several years in Colorado City with her parents. They had separate houses surrounded by cotton fields. She retired from nursing after 32 years and moved to a similar setup in Aurora with her son Joe and his family. It was there that I got to spend a lot of time with her, playing canasta with her and her sister and best friend, Margaret, my grandmother. Canasta was a Moore family passion, though sticking to the rules from game to game was not. We would have to sit down and determine all the parameters before we started, and it usually depended on how many decks of cards we had managed to pull together.
Canasta usually lasted from early afternoon to well into the evening, and we would listen to old country music, sing along, and talk a lot. Mae was sort of old-fashioned in her views - particularly about love and marriage - and she could not be swayed, but she also didn't try to sway anyone else. It was easy to talk to her about anything and everything, though she was prone to saying, "Well, I'll be," and then stating her opposite opinion, without looking up from her cards. When she would catch me staring at her, she would look up and say, "I'm telling you the truth." I always sat to her left when we played, which meant her discard could give me the pile of cards, and she didn't like anyone taking the pile. She knew how to watch what I played and keep the pile from me, until it got down to the end of a game. She would say, "I know you're going to take that pile, but I can't hold you off any longer! Go ahead! Take it, I know you want to!" Granny and I got a kick about her dramatic "giving up of the pile."
Like her sister, Mae was a big animal lover. She had a dog named Cinnamon, who she adored, and she fed stray cats who showed up on her property, whether they were feral or friendly.
Mae was survived by her sons, John and Joe, her daughters, Mary and Carolyn, and their husbands, Tom Jamison and Leo Swartling. She also left behind grandchildren Tom, Teresa, Scott, Gabe, Todd, Dean, Eddie, Amy and Sheldon, as well as twenty great-grandchildren and five great-great-grandchildren, and two brothers - DA and Cal Wayne. Siblings Bobby Joe, Billy Ray, Margaret Elizabeth, and Hatton Marshall, Jr, preceded her in death, along with her husband, her parents and a daughter-in-law, Cheryl Lynn Lewis Smith.
Mae shared a property for several years in Colorado City with her parents. They had separate houses surrounded by cotton fields. She retired from nursing after 32 years and moved to a similar setup in Aurora with her son Joe and his family. It was there that I got to spend a lot of time with her, playing canasta with her and her sister and best friend, Margaret, my grandmother. Canasta was a Moore family passion, though sticking to the rules from game to game was not. We would have to sit down and determine all the parameters before we started, and it usually depended on how many decks of cards we had managed to pull together.
Canasta usually lasted from early afternoon to well into the evening, and we would listen to old country music, sing along, and talk a lot. Mae was sort of old-fashioned in her views - particularly about love and marriage - and she could not be swayed, but she also didn't try to sway anyone else. It was easy to talk to her about anything and everything, though she was prone to saying, "Well, I'll be," and then stating her opposite opinion, without looking up from her cards. When she would catch me staring at her, she would look up and say, "I'm telling you the truth." I always sat to her left when we played, which meant her discard could give me the pile of cards, and she didn't like anyone taking the pile. She knew how to watch what I played and keep the pile from me, until it got down to the end of a game. She would say, "I know you're going to take that pile, but I can't hold you off any longer! Go ahead! Take it, I know you want to!" Granny and I got a kick about her dramatic "giving up of the pile."
Like her sister, Mae was a big animal lover. She had a dog named Cinnamon, who she adored, and she fed stray cats who showed up on her property, whether they were feral or friendly.
Mae was survived by her sons, John and Joe, her daughters, Mary and Carolyn, and their husbands, Tom Jamison and Leo Swartling. She also left behind grandchildren Tom, Teresa, Scott, Gabe, Todd, Dean, Eddie, Amy and Sheldon, as well as twenty great-grandchildren and five great-great-grandchildren, and two brothers - DA and Cal Wayne. Siblings Bobby Joe, Billy Ray, Margaret Elizabeth, and Hatton Marshall, Jr, preceded her in death, along with her husband, her parents and a daughter-in-law, Cheryl Lynn Lewis Smith.
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