69 Years Ago – “Orange and Black Forever!”

The Cotton Bowl in 1945

   My father, Edmund Gates, Jr., spent his first New Year’s Day back in the United States at the historic Cotton Bowl Stadium in Dallas, Texas. Dad had returned from serving eighteen months in England earning the Distinguished Flying Cross after flying 25 combat missions as the flight engineer and upper turret gunner with his B-17 Flying Fortress crew over German occupied territory. He departed the United States in Oct. 1942 and arrived back in April 1944.
   His oldest sister, Ella lived in Oklahoma City with her husband and their little son, Ronnie. Ella’s husband, Harry used Oklahoma A & M’s first appearance in the Cotton Bowl as an opportunity to show his appreciation to Edmund for his sacrificial service in Europe. Oklahoma A & M had been named Missouri Valley Conference Champions in 1944, suffering only one defeat that season.
   With Ella’s blessing, Harry treated Dad to a memorable New Year’s Day. According to Dad, Harry was an avid Oklahoma A & M fan, a true Aggie.  He treated Edmund to this bowl game since Oklahoma A & M was playing Texas Christian University in the Cotton Bowl at Dallas.  Harry drove from his home in Oklahoma City stopping to pick up Edmund at Ardmore, Oklahoma, on the way to Dallas.  Dad was stationed at Ardmore upon returning from his tour of duty. Harry thoroughly enjoyed the trouncing of TCU by the Oklahoma A & M Aggies, whooping and hollaring, jumping up and down, and cheering the entire game.  Dad and Harry saw Bob Fenimore who would later in his collegiate career at Oklahoma A & M be named an All-American. Mack Creager who became a legendary television sportscaster in Tulsa at KOTV also played on that team. The final score was 34 to 0 obviously in favor of Oklahoma A & M.
   One can't help but draw the stark contrast between 1945 and 2014. Perhaps, if Uncle Harry and Dad were going to Jerry's World (as my cousin Ron refers to the site of the 2014 Cotton Bowl), they would be tweeting, posting selfies, purchasing a program, and commemorative t-shirt. I wonder if they would have been distracted by all those things, which sometimes can take away from visiting, people watching, and enjoying the moment. However, not one photo was taken or program saved or any other shred of evidence that they attended the 1945 Cotton Bowl - only the vivid memory that they both treasured and enjoyed recalling together until Uncle Harry's death. Memories remembered and shared are priceless! 

Below are links to vintage footage in two parts of the 1945 Cotton Bowl:

http://youtu.be/DqV6M0IpzhY

http://youtu.be/bxy_kGPrpSE



Uncle Harry and Aunt Ella Gates Bledsoe with
Ron, an Ole Miss grad and avid Sooner fan, and
Mary Beth, born in 1947, an OSU grad and
Orange and Black Forever. We miss Beth greatly 
since her death in 2007.



Go Pokes! My sister and I both earned
our degrees from Oklahoma State University. Dad was
always ready to take in a home football game like this
one with Angie, my sister, on November 9, 1991. 



The Christmas Tree - The Wish Never Granted

It Is More Blessed to Give Than to Receive

   Wishing, wishing, wishing, with all her heart but to no avail. That phrase described my mother’s yearly experience at the annual Christmas Tree at Belford School.

   My mother, Bernyce Smith Gates, attended first through eighth grade at Belford School. Belford, located on the east side of the Big Bend, was always considered the smaller school since Woodland in the west part of the Bend had a three-room building and a larger student population. How hard to believe that little two-room Belford School in the Great Depression had over seventy students!

   In rural schools like Belford, the Christmas Tree was an annual event in the first half of the twentieth century. The performance of the Christmas program by the students from first through eighth grades kicked off the evening. The Christmas tree was beautifully decorated with presents the parents had brought for their children, and the children could hardly wait for their individual names to be called so they could receive their present from the "tree."

    As a little girl, Bernyce wished and hoped to hear her name called and see a hand taking one of the beautiful dolls from the tree and handing it to her. This wish was never granted first of all because Mother never told her parents of her secret wish. Secondly, her mother, Gladys Rainey Smith, was far too practical and cautious for my mother to receive a doll from the Christmas Tree. My grandmother feared little Bernyce’s gift would be stolen or lost. In the 1930s, all things (including food and clothing) were precious and hard to come by--not to mention something so extraordinary as a doll for Christmas. She and Grandpa Calvin just couldn’t take that chance of having an extravagant gift stolen or lost since they knew it would spoil their little girl’s Christmas, and they could not afford to replace it.

    My grandparents had gotten her a doll when she was four or five. It had real brown hair and its eyes would open and then close when she laid it down to sleep. Mother’s excitement peaked when she realized this 18-inch doll could walk when she held its hands. She treasured this doll for many years. Children of the Great Depression learned quickly to vigilantly care for anything they called their own.
   Even as she got older this doll held a special place in her heart and in her small collection of keepsakes; her doll was a precious possession until one day she looked north from their home on the Jefferson lease and was horrified to see the home of the Peters family (incidently located on what is now my parents’ home place) engulfed in flames. Her heart ached with empathy for the little girl in the family named Bethelea. Little Bethelea was younger than my mother. Almost immediately my mother knew what she wanted to do. She pulled her treasured doll from her small collection of keepsakes and at the first opportunity, gave her doll to the little girl who had lost everything.   

Bernyce Smith Gates (top) and
 Bethelea Peters Myers (bottom)
taken from the 1934 Belford
School Group Photograph

   Isn’t that what Christmas is about? God gave to us His very best because of our dire need for a Savior. Mother saw how desperately a little girl needed a doll to help provide security and comfort since her family had lost everything. Mother never got her wish to receive a doll from the Belford School Christmas tree, but her compassion and generosity prompted her to give freely to little Bethelea who must have so wanted a doll to cuddle. Mother didn’t receive a doll the way she wished, but did receive a life-long memory of the blessing of giving. After all, Jesus said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” At Christmas, many of us give to others less fortunate or with needs out of our abundance or give what we have no attachment to and are wanting to discard and never experience sacrificial giving. When I think of the phrase "give until it hurts" I am reminded of this story and the generosity and sacrifice of a little girl--my mother.

The Christmas Tree and the Stolen Watch

The Christmas Tree  - an Event at Woodland

As a child, I would hear my parents and grandparents talk about the Christmas Tree – not as an object but as an event. In the 1930s, both schools (Belford and Woodland) in the Big Bend community held an evening extravaganza each December for the students and their families at each particular school.

My father, Edmund Gates, Jr., recalls the enormous decorated tree in the Woodland (not to be confused with the district consolidated in 1990, also named Woodland) schoolhouse located where Lester Anson’s home is currently. The students would perform in the school Christmas program. Then the highlight of the evening was the children receiving gifts that decorated the tree. 

The parents would purchase gifts for their children and then take the gifts to a designated lady from the community who would tie the gifts to the school tree. The children could hardly wait to have their names called and receive a gift from the Christmas tree.  As children living in the Great Depression, you can imagine their anticipation. 

The most memorable Christmas tree for Edmund Jr. was in 1931 when his younger brother Jess at age eight received a rifle off the tree. To his delight, Edmund Jr. who was 12 years old received a watch when his name was called. It was a magical night filled with beautiful music, delicious (and scarce) sweet treats, and laughter as the children shared with pride what the Christmas tree had given them.  In the excitement of the evening, Edmund laid his newly acquired watch on a school desk. Unfortunately, he only briefly enjoyed the first expensive gift he’d ever been given, before it was stolen.

Edmund Gates, Jr.in the 1930s

As I visited with Dad about the stolen Christmas watch, my heart ached for a young boy who experienced such joy and elation over a precious gift only to have those feelings dashed into a million pieces a few minutes later. He described how he spent the rest of the evening in a futile search for his Christmas watch. But as I reaccount the story of that night, a heartwarming realization dawned on me. That same little boy now celebrating his 94th Christmas frequently thanks God in his nightly prayer saying, "Thank you for the Lord Jesus." He so clearly understands that Jesus is the gift that once received can never be stolen or lost. What an amazing thought to ponder and internalize at this hectic time of year!



He (Jesus) came to His own, and His own did not receive Him. But as many as received Him, He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe on His Name. Taken from the Gospel of John, chapter one, verses eleven and twelve.

                                                        

A Memory of Last Christmas

Christmas Cats

Over the Thanksgiving weekend, one of my friends had her precious dog accidentally ran over by a car. It brought to the forefront of my memory the loss of some of our beloved farm cats this past summer and the dear memories of time spent with them.

Snow and Patches Helping Hang the Wreath - Christmas 2012


Looking at this photo of Patches and Snow from last year reminds me of this moment in time with these two loving felines. I had taken the wreath from its box and was preparing to hang it on the front porch. I was called inside so I set the wreath in the stacked chairs. Upon returning, I looked out the front door to see Snow and Patches posing for what became their Christmas photograph. I grabbed my camera and snapped this treasured photo of the two. It was as though they were saying, “Come on, Bernadean, we’ve been patiently waiting for you to get this wreath hung. We are here to lend a helping paw.”

This attitude of being involved in all "their human" was doing typified these two cats. Snow was one to come anytime he heard me. Even when he was quite ill, he would try to follow me. He liked to be with his humans. Patches was a docile, affectionate cat with gorgeous eyes accented with, as Angie my sister referred to, “permanent eyeliner.” Patches  would have adored being an indoor "lap" cat.

Snow died in the early summer. Patches disappeared not long after his death.

My mother believes strongly that little children can be taught respect as they come to understand animals and how best to treat them. I am so thankful that God created animals that we could daily enjoy and love, because sometimes it seems they give so much more to us than we give to them.

Early Days of Edmund Gates, Sr.

The Two Languages of Edmund Gates, Sr.

Edmund Gates, Sr., my grandfather, was born to Elizabeth Studebaker Gates and John Fredrick Gates on June 16, 1877, in Girard, Kansas. Since both of his parents were deaf, little Edmund grew up in a home where his first language was sign language although he was not hearing impaired. Perhaps John, his father, was more concerned with little Edmund being able to fit into the hearing world by learning to speak. Maybe his father recalled his own childhood years, up to age fourteen, filled with meaningful words and vibrant, beautiful sounds--a time before scarlet and typhoid fever savagely destroyed his hearing leaving him suddenly in a silent world. For whatever reason, John made the decision that little Edmund needed to be in a home where he was exposed to verbal speech. He decided this should take place when their firstborn son was around four years old. Evidently, it was not a mutually agreed upon decision, since Grandpa recalled being torn from his mother’s arms as she cried “hysterically.” One wonders how a little boy coped with being wrenched from his adoring mother’s arms.  In the Gates farmhouse surely Great-grandmother Elizabeth could have frequently been heard sobbing inconsolably as she grieved over her little boy who was going several states away. Although Great-grandfather John must have suffered his own heartbreak over Little Edmund's departure, he was willing to endure the pain of separation because he knew Little Edmund would never learn to talk in their home.

Little Edmund went to Woodbine, Illinois, to live with his uncle’s family. John Fredrick had chosen his brother,  Robert Bell Gates and his wife, Elizabeth, a hearing couple, with whom his son would spend a couple of years. Edmund would meet his cousins - Ira age 10, Edith age 8, and Lois age 6. During his stay with his uncle’s family, Edmund learned to master the English language using his voice. After the two-year stay, he faced a second difficult transition when he had to leave a family he had bonded with to return to his own family in Kansas.

The farmhouse home of John and Elizabeth Gates in Kansas - photographed
by Mamie Marie Gates Judkins Tice in 1991.The right portion of the house
 was built onto the original home after the Gates family sold it.