A Tribute to Alpha Mathis Sipes

Every year when the Mathis reunion comes around I think about my grandmother, Alpha Mathis Sipes, who died in 1988. (I think about her other times too!) Today I want to share those thoughts with you. I hope that those of you who knew her might appreciate my reminiscences. I also hope that those of you who didn't get the chance to meet her might begin to understand her life and her role in the Mathis family.

To begin at the beginning. Alpha was born on November 2, 1902 in Brown County, the first daughter of William and Mary Mathis. I don't know how they came up with her name, but it was a natural -- Alpha is the first letter of the Greek alphabet. She joined two older brothers, and eventually had eight younger siblings, as you know. She became known as "Sis" in the family.

She got married in 1928 to James Franklin Sipes, a Brown County native who earned his living as a housepainter. He supplemented his income through bee-keeping, but fishing was his true passion. They moved west to Bloomington, where they built a house (currently occupied by my sister Liz and her family). We ran across some old pay records that indicated at least three of Alpha's brothers helped to build the house.

Frank and Alpha had two daughters, Ruth (my mother) and Norma (my aunt). All of us youngsters - my siblings, my cousins, and me - grew up under the watchful eye of our grandmother. We took regular trips to Brown County to visit relatives. I remember especially the trips to Brown County State Park to visit Laura and Claris and to Maurice's farm, where we rode horses and had family reunions like this one. My grandfather died in 1965, after nearly 40 years of marriage. He is buried at the Sipes Cemetery, on a bluff near by Salt Creek. That became a regular stop in our journeys to Brown County.

I recently unearthed a poem that I had written to my grandmother when she celebrated her 75th birthday, in 1977. That year also saw the birth of her first great-grandchild -- Cristina -- to my cousin Holly.

I moved away from Bloomington a few years later to pursue my education and I didn't see Alpha as often. But the connection was still there. The last time I saw her was in the early spring of 1988. We took a drive in the country - I can't even remember exactly where, maybe Brown County, but it doesn't matter. What I do remember is the sun shining brilliantly, the new green of the leaves, and the peace that being with my grandmother always evoked in me. Alpha died that summer, 85 years old, and was buried next to my grandfather. Her spirit is still with us.

Thank you for listening to me.