A Cherished New Year's Eve Centenarian

A few years ago I located my mother's only living cousin on her father's side. We immediately forged a friendship since we shared the same profession and a compelling interest in the Smith family history. Even though I have never gotten to meet her in person, Elizabeth Purcell Hammer has impacted my life with her historical accounts and indomitable spirit. She will celebrate her 101st birthday on December 31.

My Oldest Living Relative and the Missing Portrait

            Around ten years ago, I discovered a relative that I had heard about but had never met. At the time, I was trying to find a member of my maternal grandfather’s family because of a portrait. Gladys Vivian Rainey Smith had married my grandfather, Calvin Callcayah Smith after his father’s death, but she always told me a portrait of him hung in the Smith home in Hickory Grove, Oklahoma. I didn’t locate the portrait of Walter Smith, however, my search led me to Elizabeth Purcell Hammer. How she has enriched my life!

Elizabeth Purcell Hammer, my mother's only living
 cousin on her father's side. This photograph was
 taken when Elizabeth was 90 years old. She is
 such a lovely lady.

            Elizabeth is my oldest living relative. She was born to my grandfather’s older sister, Rachel and her husband, Arthur Purcell on December 31, 1913. Like my mother, she is one-quarter Cherokee. Elizabeth is one of the three Purcell girls. Ferrall and Fern were her sisters. Elizabeth attended school at the historically significant -at least to the Smith family - Hickory Grove School in Delaware County. My grandfather and his siblings attended school there. Grandpa’s parents and other relatives are buried in the Hickory Grove Cemetery in close proximity to the school. (For more information about the Smith family’s influence in the Hickory Grove Cemetery see the final photograph in the blog posting entitled Typhoid! that posted on October 19, 2014.)

The Hickory Grove School 

            Elizabeth grew up on a farm that raised hogs, cattle, and chickens. Those days were hard, battling the drought, the Dust Bowl, along with couple of years of infestation by armyworms and grasshoppers. The adversity of her formative years built the tenacity and determination that has served Elizabeth well over these many years.

            She graduated from Chouteau High School and then began her study at Northeastern State College. When she had completed approximately two years of collegiate study, Elizabeth began teaching at her first school. She taught 60 students ranging from first through eighth grades. Her entry salary was $60/month. She later earned her degree from NSU with postgraduate hours from OSU.

            Elizabeth also served as an elementary principal at numerous locations in eastern Oklahoma. She retired in 1977, after teaching science and math to junior high students for 15 years in Claremore with innumerable accolades coupled with the admiration and respect of a myriad of students from all over the eastern half of the state.

            She was married to the love of her life, Ellsworth Hammer, for over 60 years until his death in 2000. Since her father and husband were in the agriculture business, she advised me in her 2013 Christmas card, “Please don’t try to be a full-fledge farmer. It’ll take up too much time and energy.” Truer words were never spoken.

            Elizabeth served in various capacities in civic, educational, community, and service organizations in Pryor, her home of almost 80 years, as well as Mayse County. Her larger-than-life persona pervades the area so that her son told her upon her 100^th birthday that perhaps she should relinquish the keys to her car since everyone in Pryor knew her age!

            Back to my initial search for the portrait of Walter Smith, the grandfather of my mother and Elizabeth. In my research, I had been able to find letters in which Great-grandpa Walter had written names in Cherokee, but I never located the much sought after portrait of this full-blood Cherokee great-grandfather of mine. Yet I discovered Elizabeth, the only living relative that was alive before his death in 1923. The recollections she shared with me have afforded a clearer understanding of him than the lost portrait would have.

            Elizabeth and her family lived with her grandparents for a time after their home burned. She recalls the evenings filled with stringed music provided by my grandpa and his brothers. Her grandparents encouraged Elizabeth and her sisters to dance to the lively tunes as they were played.

            Even though Great-grandpa Walter’s first language was Cherokee, Elizabeth related that he rarely spoke Cherokee in his home. My great-grandmother, Julia Steeley Smith, did not speak Cherokee. Out of respect for her, Elizabeth said, he refrained from speaking Cherokee.

            Elizabeth vividly remembers the time Isaac returned from World War I after witnessing his friend’s brutal death in the trenches of France. He was suffering from what we now know is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Isaac incessantly retold the vivid eyewitness account of the horrific battlefield death of his friend. His parents, my great-grandparents, consulted the doctor who was treating him and were advised to allow their traumatized son to verbalize the terror of his war experience. Elizabeth said no one ever interrupted him but patiently allowed him almost hourly to retell his World War I account. After a period of time, the compulsion to relate what he saw and experienced in Europe diminished. They heard the story less and less. Isaac Smith recovered, married, had a family, and worked in the mines of Northeastern Oklahoma, thanks to the unwavering fortitude modeled by Walter and Julia Smith, his parents, to the family to support and ensure his healing.

              In one of our recent phone conversations, I commented to Elizabeth that my grandma said the portrait of her father-in-law, Walter Smith, revealed a strong, nice-looking man. Elizabeth replied, “Actually, he looked most like your grandpa.”

              She also said he liked to dress handsomely. I was beginning to get a sense of the kind of man he was. He looked like Grandpa. (To see a photo of my grandfather, Calvin Callcayah Smith, see the blog posting of March 9, 2014, entitled The Legacy.) He took pride in his appearance. My great-grandfather, Walter Smith was patient, loved music, as well as loved and respected his wife. Thanks to Elizabeth, I am getting an understanding of who Walter Smith was and what he was like.

             In one of our last telephone conversations, I told her about a family photo that I had found in my grandma’s album. Elizabeth did not have a copy of it. I told her within the month I would get a copy sent to her. This dear relative who had written pages of family history for me and had visited with me about a great-grandfather I had never seen, said to me, “Now don’t you be concerned about getting that to me. You have enough to do already caring for your father.” Her compassionate comments filled with sensitivity serve as an encouragement when weariness creeps into my being.

             Since Grandma told me about the portrait of Walter Smith, my mission to lay my eyes on it drove me in search of as many Smith relatives as I could possibly locate. Being unable to find the portrait has been a blessing since it led me to contact Elizabeth, the treasure trove of Smith family history - an accomplished relative with a loving, caring heart. What a family jewel!

Happy Birthday, Elizabeth!

Remembering a Wedding 74 Years Ago

Talk About Polar Opposites!

Elmer Marion Rice had just turned 22 years old when he pledged his love and commitment to Ruby Vinita Martin on December 23, 1940. Ruby had dated others, even Elmer’s cousin. Yet Ruby, at age 19, chose Elmer. They kept the promises made in that wedding ceremony until Ruby’s death on December 11, 2002, less than two weeks before what would have been their 62^nd wedding anniversary.

Family stories indicate that Elmer spoke occasionally with a brusque tongue in their early days of marriage.  The family story goes that after the glowing luster of newlywed bliss had turned to marital reality, Elmer leveled a jab at Ruby’s cooking when he asked for cornbread at a family dinner at his parents’ home by saying, “Please pass the cake."  This comment implied that his young bride's cooking was not very good compared to his mother's.  Although the comment was meant in fun, his father, fearing Ruby might be embarrassed, reprimanded him and diverted the conversation quickly.   

Elmer’s parents creatively and humorously supported Ruby when Elmer was adjusting to marriage. One day when he was a bit disagreeable with Ruby, his parents, Ernest and Daisy Rice drove to town with their young daughter-in-law seated securely right between them!  Obviously, they adored her.

All who knew Ruby and Elmer could certainly attest to the fact that “Opposites attract.” Elmer was unorganized and somewhat messy. In fact, I had the privilege of learning the art of  teaching third graders from Ruby beginning in 1979 until her retirement. The only time I saw her upset with Elmer was one morning when Ruby, who was always early, arrived at school later than her usual time. She had cleaned off the top of his persistently messy desk the previous evening. Then just as she was preparing to depart for school, he began to say, “You cleaned up my desk, and now I can’t find what anything!” He had waited until she was ready to walk out the door to look for an important document that he needed that day. Ruby didn’t malign Elmer in any way, but I knew she was annoyed!

Ruby was smitten by his brilliant mind. His ability to assess opportunities and calculate the risks led to Elmer being a stellar businessman. Ruby trusted him implicitly to make wise business decisions for their family.

Increasingly, Elmer leaned on Ruby’s quiet stability. She considered her words and their ramifications before she spoke.

Ruby was an attractive woman even into her latter years with gorgeous brown eyes. Many times, I saw her look quizzically or glance teasingly sideways at Elmer.

I still chuckle to hear Elmer’s voice call her when he was ready to go. He called her name with a noticeable accent on the final syllable and with a much higher pitch than the first syllable.

Elmer made providing for Ruby an important goal in his life. He wanted her to have a dependable, safe car – in actuality, he liked for her to have a statement car that accentuated her understated sophistication.  A spacious, comfortable home for her became an aim for him. I will never forget how excited Ruby was when he bought a grand piano for her. She daily played the piano upon arriving home from school as a way to unwind from all the stresses of the teaching day.

Living together as husband and wife for over 60 years doesn’t just happen. After Elmer and Ruby made that matrimonial commitment to each other, they later chose to commit their lives to Jesus. I think they’d say that decision impacted their individual lives and their relationship with each other more than anything else.

Elmer and Ruby at the wedding of their daughter, Vickie to Tom
            Cabell at the Ralston Baptist Church in the early 1970s.

After Elmer suffered a debilitating fall, Ruby insisted on caring for him, even though it possibly jeopardized her own health. She had made that promise, “for better, for worse, in sickness or in health” and she was determined to keep it, even over the worried protest of those who loved her best.

For those of us who admired and loved Ruby and Elmer, these pleasant memories of two opposites who dearly loved each other serve as a precious reminder of loving, sacrificial dedication. What a shining example of commitment for those of us living in the 21^st century!

My father, Edmund Gates, Jr. with Ruby and Elmer Rice posing with the
                       highly respected teacher and coach, Grover Bradley at the Burbank High
                      School Reunion in Burbank, Oklahoma, on June 27, 1993. Elmer, Ruby,
                     and Dad graduated from Burbank High School in the late 1930s.

You Can't Mix Crimson and Cream with the Brightest Orange!

I wrote this piece about ten days ago just for fun. Mother urged me to select it for this week's posting.
The Bedlam Clothes Battle

                I am a cow herder by default. My training and capability are lacking. However, my low tolerance of cold temperature has improved. For so many years, I read to my third grade students The Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Many winter days have reminded me to recall Pa Ingalls’ words to Laura when they lived in the harsh weather of Dakota Territory, “Don’t fear the cold.” With those words warming me, I press on.

                My clothing has been, after a fashion, inherited from the man who really knew how to care for cattle. When I read his journal of forty years ago, I realize he has forgotten more about bovine care than I could acquire if I study the species eight hours daily for the rest of my life! Nevertheless, I have begun wearing an OSU starter jacket of Dad’s that has just been hanging in the entry closet. Bottom line – it is warm! Mother found a long crown stocking cap in brown. Dad never liked to wear it. He preferred the fur hat given to him by Angie and Ben. Many times I heard my grandma, Gladys Rainey Smith's voice lamenting that a woman can't have good hair when she's working on the farm, so I had always rejected hairstyle-destroying head wear like the fur hat or the stocking cap.  However, I started coming in from cold days with a headache when wearing only a hood, so I decided to “sock” the brown hat on my head. Miraculously, the headaches stopped, and as Mother delights in saying when I comment on my cattle-feeding garb, “After all, you’re not going to a fashion show.”

Dad proudly modeling the Siberian hat from
Angie and Ben on Christmas Eve 2001.

Dad wearing his favorite "fur" hat to bottle feed
Little Orphan Andy using a contraption he made
so he didn't have to hold the calf bottle during the
whole feeding.

                The brown stocking cap became a staple of my cattle-tending garb. One can imagine my chagrin after being unable to locate the knit cap, but I headed outside anyway to do the morning chores. To my dismay, near the frost-free hydrant, was my headache-curbing cap in a wet mass enmeshed in wet leaves and grass.

                When reporting the disturbing find to my ever-positive mother, her reply was, “Oh, you know that really nice OU stocking cap that Julia Lemley and her granddaughter, Madison gave Edmund has hardly been worn.”

                The reply that emerged from my mouth was, “Mother, this is Bedlam Weekend. I couldn’t wear that crimson and cream stocking cap with the OSU starter jacket.”

                Mother’s typical unflappable response was, “Well, you would please your Uncle Jim. He’d think you’d finally been converted!”         

                 In my mind, I could hear Dad saying, “It’s all in fun!”

After rereading the post title, I rethought that opinion. In actuality, only during Bedlam matches do the colors clash. Otherwise, Crimson and Cream and the Brightest Orange mix all year long. I have relatives, friends, former colleagues, and former students that eat, sleep, and breath Sooner sports, especially football, and I love them dearly.

Burying the Hatchet

A phrase my father used in this family story was "bury the hatchet." According to the Cambridge Idioms Dictionary, the origin of this phrase traces to a Native American peace ceremony that literally involved burying a hatchet, a weapon of war.

 The Neighbor, His Brother, and Edmund Gates, Sr.
As told by Edmund Gates, Jr. to Bernadean J. Gates

              In the early 1920s, a neighbor hit Grandpa Black over some small disagreement at the Black home on what is now the Travis Anson place. This neighbor hit Grandpa Bob Black in the head with a club “addling” him and bloodying his nose. As a result, Edmund, Sr., my father, was “laying” for the neighbor, wanting to get even.
             About a year later, when I was around four years old, I was in the wagon with my father. Papa was bringing a load of corn out of the bottom from the Dyer Place’s triangular field. He had been shucking corn all day. I was with him because I always liked to go with Papa even though I was too young to work. We were getting ready to go home through a gate that opened onto the main road. Suddenly, out stepped the brother of the neighbor who had struck Grandpa Black. He wielded a club in his hand as he stood at the gate refusing to open it. Papa, with one swift motion, reached behind and brought a shotgun down, lowering it on the brother blocking the gate. Papa had the shotgun with him hoping to get a rabbit to take home for Mom to cook. The brother of the neighbor quickly said, “Oh Ed, Oh Ed, Hold it!” and immediately opened the gate. The incident was the talk of the community for a while. Thankfully, that day we decided to call a truce and “bury the
 hatchet.”

Edmund Gates, Sr. and Edmund
Gates, Jr.in the 1950s

             As I prepared this blog post, I purposefully left out the names of the neighbor and his brother since my father and my grandfather put this disagreement behind them over ninety years ago. Revealing the names might “unearth the hatchet” or "take up the hatchet" which incidentally means just the opposite of a peace pact.

           “Burying the hatchet” or “letting bygones be bygones” continues to be a healthy, life-altering choice and is just as relevant today as in yesteryears.  I fInd it interesting that Dad used the pronoun "we" in the final sentence of his account of this happening. Since he was a preschooler, evidently Grandpa conveyed unequivocally to his young son,my dad, that this feud was ended and in the past. What a powerful impact my grandfather's actions, as well as the other two men's responses, had on this impressionable, little boy!
             This Christmas season of giving is the perfect time to consider a mutually agreed upon answer to an ongoing argument or family squabble. The best way to accomplish this begins with requesting prayerfully from the Prince of Peace a heart for resolution, words for soothing the disagreement, an understanding heart from the seeming adversary, and a perfect opportunity to “bury the hatchet.” The forgiveness of past bitterness can be received from the One who brings peace on earth, good will to men. What a wonderful way to honor Him as His miraculous birth is recognized at this season of the year!

Advice From Bob for a Successful Season of Holidays

I've had people indicate that family holiday celebrations are a necessary evil. It seems important to spend time with loved ones at Thanksgiving and/or Christmas, but sometimes spending a prolonged amount of time with those loved ones can end in a verbal barrage.

Eating In Peace

If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men. Romans 12:18

     Bob, the orange and white manx kitten, is larger than Tailer, the kitten who is mostly orange with the normal long cat tail. As my sister jokingly says, “Bob loves the groceries.” But one evening I observed something a bit unusual.

      I always feed Bob and Tailer using separate bowls. Somehow though, Tailer frequently goes to the bowl where Bob is eating. He squeezes his smaller head into the bowl where Bob’s larger head is involved in some serious consumption. Bob lifts his head, takes notice of the vacant bowl, and simply moves to that bowl that Tailer had left.
       I observed the above scenario happen at least four times. Each time Bob just moved to the unoccupied bowl without a meow, low growl, or even a chirp for which he is famous.
      As I silently watched them eat, I had to ask myself how often I seek the peaceful solution the way Bob did – over and over and over. Bob sought and retained peace at their evening feeding because he chose to change what he had control to change. He didn’t try to change Tailer, but changed his stance.
      Sometimes our actions say that we want peace, but under our breath, we complain about others’ behavior that put us in these situations. Not Bob. His actions and his silence did nothing to stir up any problems at the feeding bowls.

May that soft, furry, bob-tailed, half-grown kitten be our example for how to retain peace as we go through life.

 

                                                                  Bob taking a break from "the groceries" he dearly loves.

Note: Bob is much larger now - about twice as big as the above photograph shows. The manuscript "Eating in Peace" was written several months ago. 





A more recent photo of Bob.

For more about Bob and Tailer, go to the first blog post in which they appeared entitled Four Little Kittens that was posted on April 27, 2014, or see The Orphan Kittens - Almost 90 Days Old which posted on July 6, 2014.

When the Little Brown-Eyed Durgan Lived with My Grandparents

Remembering Marilyn LaVerne Rainey

           Marilyn LaVerne Rainey was born in the Big Bend on November 8, 1933, to Eugene and Raucie Snow Rainey. Eugene “Gene” was the younger brother of my grandmother, Gladys Vivian Rainey Smith. (See the blog post of February 9, 2014, entitled Alice Rainey – The Valentine Baby to see a photo of young Gene Rainey.) My mother recalled what a pretty, little girl Marilyn was with enormous brown eyes. Marilyn’s father called her affectionately his little brown-eyed durgan. A durgan is another name for a dwarf. Marilyn was always petite.

Earliest Photo of Marilyn in
Grandma's Collection

            In 1943, Marilyn and her older sister, Billie Jean, moved to Tulsa with their mother. Her mother became a riveter in the booming airplane manufacturing industry in Tulsa during the World War II era. However, in April of that year, Marilyn’s mother died of double pneumonia leaving Marilyn at age nine and Billie at age 11, suddenly without their mother. The heartbroken girls moved back to the Big Bend and lived with their father and other relatives.

Marilyn LaVerne Rainey

           Within a year, Marilyn came to live with my mother and my grandparents, Marilyn’s aunt and uncle. She lovingly called my grandfather “Cul” that had its origins in his Cherokee name. Marilyn never had to walk to school because he always drove her to Belford School even though it was only about a half mile from where they lived.
           She used my grandfather’s nickname for my grandmother “Lyde” when she referred to her. Grandma braided her hair, created custom-made dresses for her, and provided stability and encouragement for Marilyn.

Marilyn with a custom-tailored dress.
Trademark signs of Grandma's attention
 to creative details and tailoring are the
 buttons on the shoulder seams, rickrack
 trim, and the inset sleeves impeccably
tailored to Mailyn's shoulders.

             In her final days of her life, Marilyn recalled treasured memories of activities at her beloved grade school. Other than her daily school classes, she also attended weekly Sunday School and church services at the Belford School. Actually, almost any community-wide event enjoyed by the close-knit group of relatives and neighbors took place at this hub of activity since it was the only building large enough to allow all to participate.

8th Anniversary of the Belford Sunday School taken
in 1938 - Marilyn is the shortest girl on the front row.

           For the Christmas program of 1944, my mother taught Marilyn, her other cousin, Delores Dean Rice Littlestar, and Nadine Clifton to sing “White Christmas” in three-part harmony. That level of singing was quite a feat for the three eleven-year-olds to accomplish, as well as for my mother who coached them to a flawless performance!
           Marilyn, like her mother, loved nature and the outdoors. (To see a photo of Marilyn with her pet rabbit, see the blog post entitled The Bittersweet Shared Birthday posted on August 10, 2014.) From the stories I’ve heard, Marilyn was allowed by grandparents to keep every stray, sick cat she brought home. Grandpa never spoke a negative word to her, even when one of the homeless, weak felines died under the porch of their house. He just retrieved the dead cat for her!
          Marilyn’s father’s missed her so much that he asked her to move back with him and her Grandma Rainey and Aunt Alice Rainey. In her later high school years, Marilyn joined her sister who was living with their aunt, Emma Rainey Buckley, in Washington, D.C.
          Marilyn completed her education and became a registered nurse. This accomplishment pleased my grandma since she herself was a nurse. Perhaps Marilyn had observed the nursing provided pro bono publico (Latin meaning “for the public good”) by my grandma in the Big Bend community during the Great Depression.
          Neither of my grandparents verbalized very frequently, but it seemed they wished Marilyn had lived longer with them. She always seemed to express that this time in her life was such a happy one.
          Marilyn passed peacefully from this life on October 22, 2014. Her memorial service was in Dallas, Texas, on November 8, 2014, on what would have been her 81^st birthday. Our thoughts and prayers continue for  her daughters, Suzan Firestone Brawner and Lisa Firestone Feagins and her son, Craig Firestone.

The Spanish Flu Pandemic of 1918

The recent concern for the ebola epidemic's expansion to the United States brought back memories of my grandfather's experience with the Spanish flu during World War I.

The November That Calvin Callcayah Smith Was Left to Die

                Calvin Callcayah Smith, my maternal grandfather, was inducted into the United States Army on July 22, 1918. Grandfather was based at Fort Snelling located in the Minnesota state capital.

                Just four months later as he served as a medic, the Spanish flu ravaged the military community of Fort Snelling, as well as the twin cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul. According to the National Institute of Health website (nih.gov), the influenza received its name because Spain was the first country acknowledging publicly the presence of the highly contagious disease.

                By October 1918, the Spanish flu was in full sway with over 500 cases at Fort Snelling alone. St. Paul city leaders closed most public buildings for around 10 days in early November. By January 1919, when the city epidemic had run its course, over 600 people had died.

                Grandpa trained and served as a medic, which may explain how he contracted the deadly flu since influenza vaccinations were not given in 1918. Just weeks before he died at age 88 in 1982, he told my mother of how he was placed in the area of the military hospital designated for those who had no chance of survival. He was put with other military personnel  whom the doctors knew were going to die. Miraculously, Grandpa survived and had a doctor tell him that, in his opinion as a physician, he credited the fact that Grandpa had not smoked with enabling him to live and not die like others around him. My family credits God’s intervention on Grandpa’s behalf even though he would not choose to enter into a relationship with God through Jesus until around fifteen years later.

                My grandfather remained in St. Paul, until July 31, 1919, barely a month after World War I ended. He thoroughly enjoyed himself while in Minnesota. He enjoyed winter parties on the frozen lakes in the area, telling Mother of the lakes being frozen so solid and thick that vehicles could be driven on them and bonfires could be built on them as well.

                Just about ten years ago, over twenty years after Grandpa’s death, I had a woman upon meeting me and learning who my grandfather was, remark to me, “Your grandfather was a very handsome man.” In his one and only recounting to my mother of this time in his life, he mentioned a vaudeville actress with whom he socialized. Marguerite Nelson performed regularly at the Strahn Theater in St. Paul. While in the Twin City region, he also met Hildegard Malone, the daughter of the owner of Red Wing Distilleries of Minneapolis. During the evening not long before his death, he explained to Mother that Hildegard’s father, a millionaire living in Minneapolis, offered him a position if he would remain in Minnesota. Grandpa told my mother that he wanted to come home to Oklahoma, so declined the job offer.

                Grandpa returned to Oklahoma, content to leave what appeared to be a lucrative opportunity behind in the land of 10,000 lakes. His love for family and deep bond with the Oklahoma lifestyle trumped money, high society, and all of its frills.  Reviewing family stories often reveals how ONE simple choice can change the course of a family's history.

Calvin Callcayah Smith on the right with two of his buddies in Minnesota.

When the Preacher's Wife Went Crazy

I have been blessed to know some terrific pastors' wives. This time of year coupled with a photograph triggered some wonderful memories of one of them.

Susie Crowley and Halloween

             Recently I was perusing some of Angie’s photographs of memorable church activities. What a delight to find the one below of Susie and John Crowley. This photograph was taken in October of 1978, at a youth party hosted by Barbara Rice for the youth class that she had just begun teaching. She planned it as a fun activity for the youth – a costume party. Susie Crowley, the pastor’s wife, dressed as a crazy doctor and had John, the pastor, in tow as an unwilling patient. Susie is now deceased, but I have such treasured memories of her. After her death, I spoke with John about her. She was bubbly and always had an infectious laugh. Her whole face smiled. John agreed with me that she was the funny one in their marriage and he was more serious. It was a perfect balance.

Susie Crowley dressed as a crazy doctor injecting her patient/victim, John,
her husband who was pastor at Ralston Baptist Church from 1974 through 1978.

             One of the most telling memories of Susie occurred at Falls Creek, a summer youth camp. Following a torrential rain that Falls Creek is famous for having, the older cabin in which we were staying flooded. The kitchen and dining hall were the primary areas that had several inches of rain flowing through them. We began helping the sponsors bail out the water. What an arduous task! Susie was her easy-going, humorous self even amidst these mini-crisis situations.  After lots of bailing, the water was still flowing. Susie just grabbed a cookie sheet, sat down on it, and laughed hilariously as she slid across the slick floor. She taught a great deal about how to handle a seemingly impossible situation.

               Susie was a perfect example of a couple of verses from Proverbs. In Proverbs 15:13a we read, A merry heart makes a cheerful countenance… and then  A merry heart does good like medicine...from Proverbs 17:22a. I believe strongly one of the most successful anti-aging procedures is putting a smile on my face. Just look in the mirror without the smile and then be amazed as you see the years vanish when you break into a smile. The results are incredibly effective for impacting your facial appearance and even more so internally in lifting your spirit. Susie Crowley knew this so well.

Susie Crowley laughing even when photographed putting
on her makeup at Falls Creek.

                Over the years, many people have indicated that their lives were impacted in a lasting way because of the influence of John and Susie during the  mid 1970s. Several others have told of life-changing experiences with the Lord during John Crowley’s ministry at the Ralston Baptist Church. John consistently preached the Bible and encouraged his congregation to live out what they learned. Talented, funny, easygoing Susie was the godly woman supporting him as he ministered effectively in the community.

Typhoid!

           Around 1910, Edmund Gates, Sr. was living in a tent on the Sherman Deal place northwest of my parents’ farm. (For more about my grandfather’s experiences as a tent dweller see the blog post entitled Calamity in a Tent posted on March 30, 2014.) Obviously, the living conditions would have been primitive to say the least. Grandpa contracted typhoid fever. How he got the bacteria called Salmonella Typhi is unknown. He could have been exposed to a human carrier, may have drunk contaminated water, or eaten food washed with contaminated water.
         At the worst point of Grandpa’s illness, his temperature was 105 degrees Fahrenheit accompanied by severe stomach cramps as well as a headache.  Nettie Black, his future mother-in-law, did all she knew. She gave him morphine. (Pharmaceutical history shows that at least one teething remedy sold over the counter in the early 1900s was over 50% morphine according to the National Institutes of Health website! This product was removed from the market in the 1930s.)

Nettie Ann Venator Tripp Black,
the mother-in-law of Edmund Gates, Sr.

         Upon ingesting the morphine, Grandpa passed out. Bob and Nettie Black loaded him in the wagon and started to Ralston. However, the doctor met them at the Bates Place now owned by the Hightower family. It is located about a mile east of the Belford Bridge that spans the Arkansas River. Dr. M. W. Gaymon, a doctor practicing in Ralston at the time, asked Edmund, Sr. how he felt. Under the influence of the morphine he answered, “Fine!"


A Couple of Other Accounts Relating to Contaminated Water and Typhoid 
(Aren't we blessed to have filtration and purification systems today?)


Since typhoid fever develops due to impure water, it prompted my father, Edmund Gates, Jr. to recount this personal memory when he was relating the above account to me. Dad recalled how frequently toads fell in the well’s opening or casing underneath the slab. He said the water didn’t taste bad but smelled awful. The water looked clear. They would go to the windmill well for drinking water if it got too bad before they could “pull and flush” the well near the house.

Ruben Hopper was friends with my maternal grandfather, Calvin Callcayah “Cul” Smith beginning in their home community of Hickory Grove, Oklahoma, located in the eastern part of the state. In his later years, Mr. Hopper shared with my mother that his mother died when he was quite young due to typhoid fever contracted by the use of water from a contaminated cistern.

Grave marker at Hickory Grove Cemetery
in Delaware County of Mr. Hopper's mother.
 A distant relative of my mother's told me that the
 land for this cemetery was donated by Calvin
Callcayah Smith's great-grandmother, Susan
Spaniard Smith Miller who came on the Cherokee Trail of
Tears in 1838. Many of Grandpa's relatives are 
also buried in this same cemetery.

Celebrating the Newest Nonagenarian in the Family

Bernyce Smith Gates, my mother, will be 90 years old on October 17. Nine decades of exceptional living are worth celebrating!

Nine Decades

1^st Decade 1924-1933 The first time I remember meeting Travis Myers, he related this account to me. Travis, who is about five years older than Bernyce Smith Gates, my mother, said when he was around 12 years old, he accidentally knocked her down on the way home from Belford School. He told me that as he towered over her, my mother, a spunky, small , seven-year-old, “got him told” about how he should have been paying attention to what he was doing and then would not have run over her. Mother vaguely remembers this happening.

2^nd Decade 1933-1943 Mother graduated at the top of her class in eighth grade in 1939 from Belford Grade School and had the highest grade average as a senior at Burbank High School in 1943. 

Mother as a teenager

3^rd Decade 1944-1953 Mother worked in a temporary capacity at the First National Bank in Burbank, Oklahoma. She was filling in for the bank president’s wife while she went to be with their daughter who was having a baby. Shortly after that, Mother was offered a permanent position at the bank, but instead chose to marry Edmund Gates, Jr. on March 4, 1948.

The First National Bank building in Burbank, Oklahoma. At the time of this
photograph, the building was a residence.

4^th Decade 1954-1963 Mother gave birth to both my sister, Angie and me and became the epitome of a fulltime, dedicated wife and mother. The myriad of Mother’s tasks ranged from designing and sewing a winter queen costume when Angie sang the lead role in a school Christmas program, encouraging daily piano practice to daily preparing (always before the sun came up which didn’t jive with her personal sleep pattern) a lunch for my father to take on the job with him. She insured he always had a hot dish, chilled fruit or ice cream, and something to satisfy his sweet tooth in his lunch box. Mother’s average day began around 5 a.m. and ending well after midnight.

Angie during her final fitting models the
Winter Queen costume created by Mother .
 This was for the Christmas program
at the Ralston Elementary School.

5^th Decade 1964-1973 My sister’s “family” booklet that she compiled in second grade begins the section about her mother with this sentence, “My mother works.” Mother never worked a day outside the home during our upbringing. However, she canned 52 quarts of green beans yearly, preserved all other vegetables my grandparents and my dad raised in the garden. She made butter from the milk given by the family milk cow. It was the task of Angie and me to turn the handle of the Daisy churn until the butter “came.” She prepared three balanced meals each day for my grandparents, my father, my sister, and me.

6^th Decade 1974-1983 For several years, Mother lovingly cared for both her parents until her father’s death in October, 1982, and the death of her mother in May of 1983.
7^th Decade 1984-1993 When my grandparents died, Mother decided this was a time in her life to do what she most wanted to do so she embarked on intensive Bible study to prepare each week for teaching the adult women’s class at Ralston Baptist Church.
8^th Decade 1994 – 2003 One of Mother’s great accomplishments was losing a total of 80 pounds over several years. She has retained a healthy weight up to the present.
9th Decade 2004 – 2013 In August of 2011, Mother recovered from gall bladder surgery in a remarkably, short time. She experienced a blockage requiring an ultrasound that detected an unrelated mass in December of 2011. A malignancy was discovered in January of 2012. In February of 2012, her oncologist reassured our family that surgery would be the answer for the tumor because it was identified so early. The successful surgery was on March 20, 2012, and yet miraculously, she was ready for Dad to come home from rehabilitation a week later. We still give thanks for that painful blockage.

Bernyce Smith Gates

On March 4, 2012, Mother and Dad shared their 64^th anniversary dinner in his hospital room. One of his nurses, in her 20s, commented about what the secret was to the longevity of their marriage. Mother responded, “Well we are both Christians and have tried to put the Lord first in our relationship and Edmund has been easy to get along with.” Most of those who know her will agree she is quite a remarkable woman herself.

Happy 90^th Birthday, Mother!

A Frightened Mama and Her Baby at the Red River

 It is my hope that family stories of courage, strength,  and perseverance amidst fear-filled, dangerous situations will propel us through our own 21st century storms and difficulties, especially we women who descend from Rosa Jarrell Rainey.

Crossing the Red River

                In the last half of the 19^th century, the railroad was the fastest mode of transportation. This burgeoning industry could hardly construct railways quickly enough to meet the clamor for connecting the United States and its territories.

                William Marion Rainey and Thomas J. Rainey, his father, joined the force of sturdy, strong men laying the rails in Texas. (The first blog post about William Marion Rainey was posted on October 20, 2013.) William had married Rosa Jarrell Rainey in Bloomfield, Missouri, on December 19, 1889. While my great-grandfather and my great-great grandfather were working in Texas, Rosa, my great-grandmother, stayed busy cooking for the hardworking men on their crew. (For more about Rosa go to the blog post entitled  The Matriarch of the Rainey Family posted on September 29, 2013.) Amidst all the rigorous demands on this young couple, their first baby was born in Texas on September 30, 1893. They named her Daisy Dean.

                Then Bill Rainey, as so often happens today in the 21^st century, followed the job opportunities. He crossed the Red River into Indian Territory, leaving his wife and baby daughter behind in Texas. So in 1894, Rosa, pregnant with her second child, clutching Baby Daisy in her arms, crossed the Red River in a wagon. I recall my grandmother, Gladys Vivian Rainey Smith, telling me of her mother conveying vividly how challenging and frightening this ordeal was for her.

                What a brave 26-year-old she was! She most likely crossed at the traditional ford of the Chisholm Trail near Terral. The National Weather Service’s hydrograph of the Red River near Terral shows a range from a low of 6+ feet to 22 feet at flood stage for this crossing.  

Source: http://www.blogoklahoma.us/place.aspx?id=608
This marker was placed to mark the crossing by  the
Historical Society of Fleetwood
Terral, Indian Territory (Oklahoma)

               The Chicago, Rock Island, and Pacific Railroad Company had begun construction of the railroad in the Chickasaw Nation in 1892. (http://digital.library.okstate.edu/encyclopedia/entries/J/JE002.html) They laid the tracks alongside the old Chisholm Trail that had been used by the cowpunchers for so many years during the cattle drives that culminated in Abilene, Kansas.

                Whether it is a mention of the Red River Rivalry or someone traveling from Texas north or an Okie going south toward the Bluebonnets, often at those times, I think of the courage of my great-grandmother, reins in hand, traveling with her precious little baby. As she approached the Red River, tension gripped her muscles. The burden of responsibility for her baby girl, the team of horses, the wagon containing all their worldly goods, and her unborn child weighed heavily upon her. Rosa tried to steel herself to her worries and anxiety, hummed nervously a lullaby to Baby Daisy Dean, and plunged the team of horses pulling the wagon into the murky water. What relief she must have felt as the strong steeds pulled the wagon with all her family’s belongings onto the Indian Territory side of the riverbank!

                On December 10, later in the year, Rosa gave birth to Lewis Elbert Rainey, her first son, in Terral, Indian Territory. The newly formed railroad town was only a couple of years old. According to my grandmother’s personal, handwritten family records, it was while Rosa and Bill were living in Terral that the two of them were converted and then baptized by Reverend Parker.

              In light of this information, my heart goes out to that frightened, young ancestor of mine, who had not yet experienced the peace that Jesus brings when our lives are committed to him. Great-grandma Rosa didn’t yet have a relationship with the heavenly Father to whom she could pray and ask for strength and safety as she forded the Red River with tiny Daisy. Possibly the paralyzing anxiety and utterly debilitating helplessness she experienced as the horses splashed through the muddy water, straining to draw the heavy wagon onto the dry ground caused Great-grandma Rosa to begin to realize she needed strength beyond her own ability. Later when she heard Reverend Parker’s sermon in July of 1896, she and my great-grandpa responded to God’s work in their hearts. It is my prayer that those of us who descend from this couple will be sensitive to God’s quiet work in our lives and affirm our need to follow Jesus. No better legacy would this pioneer couple desire!



Two Cakes in September

September 28th marks my only sister's birthday. It seemed appropriate to recall cherished family celebrations that may trigger sweet memories of the seemingly simpler days of family fun. Happy birthday, Angie!

One of the Best Ways to Celebrate Birthdays

Aunt Daisy Rice, Dawn Rice Haney, Aunt Emma
 Rainey Buckley, Rick Rice, me, Angie Gates
Bradley. Take notice of the two cakes.

                Daisy Dean Rainey Rice was born on September 30 in 1893. Angela Francine Gates Bradley was born on September 28 many years later. For several years, we looked forward to a family event in September to celebrate these two birthdays. The celebration was a dinner, usually in the early evening. Some years my family hosted the soirée at our home as the photo below shows. Then other years the dinner was at Aunt Daisy’s house. Aunt Emma, the embodiment of a perfect hostess as a result of her many years in Washington, D. C., entertained everyone at her home on the east side of the square for some of the happy occasions.

Aunt Daisy Rainey Rice and Angie Gates Bradley
at the 1965 September celebration held at our
home that we shared with my maternal grandparents.
It is hard to believe that our home was only
4 years old.at the time of this photograph!

             An interesting note about the square - it consisted of a section of land in the Big Bend community just west of the Belford Schoolhouse. Aunt Daisy’s house was on the south side
 of the square, our home was on the north side of the square, and as already mentioned, Aunt Emma’s home that she shared with her younger brother, Gene, the last home of her parents, was on the east side of the square. Hazel Goad and her family lived on the west side of the square. (Hazel was a daughter of Daisy Rainey Rice. For more about Hazel see the blog post of May 18, 2014, entitled Celebrating a Hundred-Year-Old Treasure.) Just to clarify a bit of family history - Lewis and Pearl Rainey lived on the south side of the square just east of Aunt Daisy’s home. Lewis was the older brother of Daisy, Emma, and Gladys, my grandmother. Rick Rice and his parents, Virgil and Helen, lived a short distance from the southeast corner of the square.
              There were always two cakes at these celebrations. Aunt Emma Buckley usually fixed the cake for Angie. Mother and Aunt Daisy shared an affinity for the color pink so Mother, Bernyce Smith Gates, enjoyed baking and decorating a cake for her aunt - a cake that always included pink in some way. No matter the cake or frosting flavors, both cakes were always created with much love.

Angie Gates Bradley and Aunt Daisy Dean Rainey Rice just before "Happy
Birthday" was sung and the delicious,homebaked cakes were sliced and sampled.
This photograph was taken in 1966, at the celebration hosted by Aunt Daisy at
her home.

            Understandably, Angie always was much more excited about the gifts than Aunt Daisy was. Looking at the expression of delight on Angie’s face in the photographs, one can tell she was a happy, little girl. Aunt Daisy's birthday joy derived from being surrounded by her family. She wanted nothing more than to be with her loved ones. Her motto was "The more the merrier." Sharing a happy time together as a family was paramount.

The "Two Cakes Celebration" in 1967. Grandma Mamie Tripp Gates, Dawn
Rice Haney, me, Rick Rice, Aunt (actually Great-Aunt) Daisy Rainey Rice,
Edmund Gates, Jr., my father. Angie Gates Bradley is barely visible above her
cake baked by Aunt Emma Rainey Buckley!

Rick Rice, Angie Gates Bradley, me with my side to camera, Dawn Rice Haney
in the living room of our home as Angie opens gifts in 1967. Rick's parents and
 Dawn's parents had helped my parents and grandparents build our home in 1961.

Grandma Mamie Gates (partially visible), Edmund Gates, Jr., Elmer Rice, Angie
sitting on Grandpa Calvin Callcayah Smith's lap, Daisy Rainey Rice with Ruby
 Martin Rice standing behind. This was taken in Aunt Daisy's kitchen in 1966.
Grandpa and Elmer probably had just had a good laugh over some political comment.

              No matter where or when we create good memories, the foremost remembrance involves people. There may be funny happenings, lovely surroundings, delightful food, or beautiful music, but the key reason we cherish those times centers around our loved ones. In light of this, we should, as we live our daily lives, hold close in our hearts, in our thoughts, and in our prayers those we love. Living life this way diminishes future regrets.

       

           This photo was snapped of Angie Gates Bradley and Ronnie Rice just as the
          delightful evening was ending. Ronnie lived many years with his grandmother,
         Daisy Rice after Virgil and Dean, her younger children, left home following their
father, Ernest Rice's death. Aunt Daisy did not like to be alone and loved to
have her family members around her.