Mathew Roger Smith (AKA: Fat Mat) was born in Florida on Aug. 21, 1962, and died in Hatch, New Mexico on May 10, 2021. He was preceded in death by his father, older brother, mother and daughter, Molly Shay. He is survived by a sister in Michigan and several nieces and nephews. He was also a grandfather to Molly Shay’s children.
In his 58 years on the planet, Mat did a whole lot of living. As a rowdy teen, he was emancipated from his parents early, and hit the road and the rails, eventually traveling to all 50 states, Mexico and Canada. Most of this was accomplished by a willingness to live like a gypsy in vans and campers, which he eventually traded in for a semi. He was a trucker for several years, but also graced many restaurants with his culinary skills that were second to none. He seriously could have given Gordon Ramsey a run for his money! Hopefully he’s sipping Irish whiskey with Anthony Bourdain now at the Last Cafe in the Universe!
The love of his life was his music, and he was seldom seen without his beloved guitar and copper slide. He was passionate about all kinds of music, but his style of playing was the blues. He loved Stevie Ray Vaughn, Taj Mahal, Tom Waits, Jimi Hendrix and Robert Johnson. He had a few bands here and there over the years, but usually played solo. When we met, he was playing guitar on a brisk autumn day at the bus stop in Nederland, Colorado. in 1989. Damn, he had SOUL!
He was a survivor, never letting anything stop him from getting his needs met. If he was hungry and broke, he wasn’t above hopping into a dumpster to procure some food. Regardless of finances, he went dumpster diving regularly because the waste in this country made him angry.
He also loved fishing, wild foraging for mushrooms, and healed himself often with herbs he found in nature. He loved the old ways of doing things.
Mat had a big personality and the gift of the gab. He was extremely well-read, well-traveled and knew how to connect deeply with people. He used to make the rounds in the tiny town of Nederland, Colorado, visiting all of his friends and helping them with their needs, whether they were ill, hungry or lonely. His nickname, Fat Mat, was not a commentary on his physical girth, but rather, upon his generous heart. He always gave over and above what he had, preferring to go without himself if he could heartily bless another.
These few paragraphs are just the tip of the iceberg of his life...a life which he lived deep and wide. He experienced a lot more than most folks do in 58 years, even though he never felt like he fit into the American Dream. In this life, he was the most free man I have ever known, and he lived that way until his last day. He will forever be missed.
I started a memory page for him where you can share photos and stories, here Mathew Smith at https://memories.net/timeline/mathew-smith-13569?utm_source=Iterable&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=MWS-A_TR&utm_content=01-MWSA-Ad
