Mexico Ollis Kelley born to James Ollis and Julia Ann Ollis, May 9, 1869 departed this life May 17, 1975, at the ripe old age of 106 years and 8 days

    She was married to William Presley Kelley November 25, 1891.  Mr. Kelley died in 1948.  To this union was born (4) four sons and (1) one daughter. One son died in infancy and Noel died in 1931.  She is survived by Mr. and Mrs. Sam C. Kelley,  Mr. and Mrs. Alvah Kelley,  Mr. and Mrs. Paul Corzine,  and Mrs. Glenna Kelley all of Goreville.  Her surviving family also list (5) five grand children,  (15) fifteen great grand children and (13) thirteen great great grand children.

    For the last 20 years she has lived in the homes of her children.  She often expressed thanks for her children's companions;  Martha, Thursa, and Paul for the loving care they have given her by willingly assisting in her care.

    Granny's life span reached from the day of the ox cart and side-saddle well into the jet-age.  She was 30 years old when she saw her first train and past 50 when she first rode in an automobile.  Her life spanned all but 18 of our presidents.  She was 17 when the statue of Liberty was erected and three Indian wars were fought after her birth.

    Mexico Kelley is listed as a charter member of the First Baptist Church of Goreville, which she attended and supported through her active years. Granny's was the simple life.  She never wore glasses, required very little medical attention, ate simple plain food, loved wine and Seven Up.  Although she was a quiet person, she possessed a lot of dry humor.  At her 100 year reception she said,  "Did you ever see so many old people!"

She never ceased to be a mother. Her children's illness was her illness.  Just this last winter she said,  "I must go take care of Sammy." Granny was happiest when useful work was taking place.  She wanted to work and was most content if those about her were busy.

    A reflection upon her long, useful and dedicated life likens her passing to the lines of the poet who pinned:

 

 So live that when, thy summon comes, to join that innumerable caravan that moves to that mysterious realm where

 each shall take his chamber in the silent hall of death.

  Go not like a quarry slave at night scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothe by that unfaltering trust.

  Approach thy grave as one who wraps the draperies of his couch about him and lies down to pleasant dreams.