My Story, page 2

by Dorothy (James) Reddell

Her mother's name was Mattie. Mother had an older sister, Lula, an older brother, Ed, and a younger brother, Henry. I never knew Ed. He was killed by a neighbor over an argument about a debt. The man had hit Ed, who sat down on a wagon tongue and told the man he "had been bested." The neighbor apparently didn't think he had been bested enough. He got a gun and shot Ed and killed him. The man stood trial, but we don't know the outcome. Uncle Ed left a wife and two little girls. I met Daphene and Della after they were grown and I was still a little girl. I only saw them once. I remember thinking they were very pretty. (Mother was born September 15, 1892, somewhere in Texas.) 

I was seven the first time I met Aunt Lula. She was married to Lonny Coble. They had three sons, Iven, Harry, and Alven. Once again, when I was 11, we visited them. That is the only time we saw them when I was growing up. I liked all of them. Mother thought Uncle Lonny was one of the best men she ever knew. I know my mother thought a lot of her older sister, and it seems sad to me that she only saw her twice after she got 

married. Aunt Lula lived into her eighties.

 I saw Uncle Henry occasionally while I was growing up. He was in the Army in World War I. He was close to 30 when he married Dessie Howell (I'm not sure about the spelling of the name). I was eight at the time they came by our house to see us on their honeymoon trip. I didn't see them again for about 20 years. They had three girls and two boys. The youngest boy died with cancer of the kidney when he was three. It was such a sad story to rear Uncle Henry tell about it. 

My Grandmother Mattie died when my mother was 12. She died from pneumonia. Mother and her younger brother, Henry, continued to live with their father until he died when mother was 19. I don't know anything about who her grandparents were. 

Mother did say her mother's grandmother was an Indian. What tribe I do not know. In talking about her parents, I could tell my mother loved her father more than she did her mother. This seemed strange to me because I loved my mother more than I did my dad. Her father was a cotton farmer in Texas. She talked fondly about riding on the wagon with him when they took the cotton to the gin. 

 Continued...

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Email Dan Reddell: bayshoredan@aol.com