Mary D. Mendoza was preceded in death by her son Fred D. Mendoza in 1961. Survivors include her daughter Olga M. Alvarez; her sisters Teresa D. Olivares, Guadalupe D. Bernal, and Elvira D. Treviño; her brother Tiburcio Deanda, Jr.; her grandchildren John E. Epperson, Jr. , Frederick W. Epperson, Mary E. Carrasco, James A. M. Epperson, Olga Alvarez, Jonas F. Alvarez, Jr., Idalia Mendoza, Mary Jo M. Bheda; her great-grandchildren Alice A. Epperson–Cuellar, John E. Epperson III, Adriette A. Epperson, John J. García, Jr., Raven B. Carrasco, Frederick J. Epperson, Priti B. Bheda, Prem Bheda; great-great-granddaughters Eryn O. Epperson and Elysse O. Epperson.

The following eulogy was written by James A. Mendoza Epperson on March 8, 1996 with important input and support from his mother, Olga M. Alvarez, and siblings, John Epperson, Fred Epperson, Mary Carrasco, Olga Alvarez and Jonas Alvarez. It was read at the funeral wake on the evening of March 8, 1996.

Mary excelled in school and her siblings often reminisce about how she would play teacher at home. She would line up her dolls or her younger siblings and neighbors as students in her classroom.

She attended school to the tenth grade in Alfred, Texas.

On February 6, 1932, in Orange Grove, Texas, she married Federico Maissiat Mendoza.

Mary and Fred met through Fred’s brother Florentino Mendoza and sister-in-law Margarita Gámez Mendoza. Florentino and Maggie were the godparents of Raúl D. Olivares, the oldest son of Mary’s oldest sister Teresa D. Olivares. Fred had come from Saspamco, Texas to Orange Grove to work on the railroad under his brother Tino who was section foreman there.

Left to right: Fred D. Mendoza Jr., Mary D. Mendoza, Olga D. Mendoza. Photo taken in 1938.

In 1939, Mary lost her husband, Federico Mendoza. At age twenty-four, Mary was a widow and was left to raise her children on her own. She always spoke kindly of George (Jorge) Mendoza, her husband’s brother, who kept an eye out for her and her children until his death in 1956.

Mary was a resourceful woman. Her great strength as a woman manifests itself in her daughter, granddaughters, great-granddaughters, and great-great-granddaughters. She served as both mother and father to her children.

At the Mendoza Ranch in 1957.

She could herd cattle, plant crops, build fences, and haul hay bales by necessity and love of the rancho. I would say she practiced women’s liberation before it became fashionable. Not only does this steadfastness manifest itself in the females in her family, but also in her grandsons and great-grandsons as respect toward women and the ability to be strong themselves.

In 1946, a flood ravaged everything Mary owned. She made herself strong through devotion to La Virgen de San Juan, belief in Jesus, and very hard work.

She was able to build her current home in 1953. At the time, Mary worked as a mechanic at Kelly Air Force Base during the Korean War.

Mary loved competition. That’s why when she worked selling stereos at Shopper’s World in San Antonio she was often the highest earner of commission. I remember her telling me about how she could compute most of the math involved in her sales mentally. In fact, at this moment if you looked in her desk drawer at home you would find a little math book where her calculations reveal her past-time.

This independent, dignified woman had a work ethic that few could match. Just two weeks ago she told me that she hoped to get well enough to help my mother around the house!

Mary wanted everyone to be the best that they could be. She valued education and encouraged her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren to pursue the formal college education that was denied to her by life’s circumstances.

Despite being widowed so young and losing her son in 1961, Mary had an incredible faith in God. She prayed fervently for her family members. Even when her body was so frail she still would kneel to pray for her loved ones.

Memo, the name we grandchildren lovingly called her, was a human being—like all of us. She had a strong character—we grandchildren knew not to mess with her. But when it counted, she was there—sometimes financially and always emotionally. All of us can still hear her say "Shh...tah" when the children misbehave, "ponte la gorra" when it was cold outside, "arriba la juanada" as a wake-up call, or "God bless you" when we were troubled. She would stand at the door, "dándonos la bendición" as we would leave her house and later my mother’s house.

I can say that Memo had dignity. She was an idealist and always had an idea about how things were "supposed to be." She left that legacy with us—be an idealist and strive for the best. Earn respect.

Over the last fifteen years, as the Parkinson’s disease and osteoporosis took their toll, Memo’s voice became labored and it was very hard to hear her. Even so, she loved to talk about the past—about how she worked for her father picking cotton from the age of five.

If you looked at her hands, you could see these huge hands for a woman her size—I often attributed them to hard work.

Memo is happy now. She’s with her husband Fred, her son Fred Jr., her parents and her sister Jacoba in heaven. She was loved by all of us—truly loved...and we know she loved us.