Remembering Gates Ancestors on Independence Day

I wrote about Jacob Snider initially for a Veterans Wall display at Woodland Elementary School following 9/11 in 2001. As the Fourth of July approaches, this seemed like a timely remembrance.

AN HONORED AMERICAN REVOLUTIONARY WAR VETERAN

          Jacob Snider was my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather on my Grandpa Gates’ side through his mother, Elizabeth Studebaker Gates. (For more about Elizabeth Studebaker Gates, see the blog post for October 27, 2013 entitled Education of Elizabeth Studebaker Gates and The Marriage of John Fredrick and Elizabeth Studebaker Gates, the blog post on November 3, 2013.) He was born in 1732 in Germany and later immigrated to the colonies. In 1780, he provided provisions for the Army of Virginia. He was appointed a lieutenant in the militia on September 18, 1781, at the age of 49. He died at the age of 58 in 1790, the same year the final state ratified the Constitution of the United States.

The Original Tombstone of Jacob Ludwig Snider
in West Virginia - as seen on findagrave.com.

The military marker erected in 2007 to honor Jacob Snider's
military service in the American Revolution - as seen on
findagrave.com

          An interesting side note concerns Jacob Snider’s son-in-law, my great-great-great-great grandfather, Jacob Studebaker. It is believed he was actually fined for refusing to fight in the American Revolution. He was accused of being a loyalist. He was thirty years old at the time. Jacob Studebaker was in no way loyal to King George III. The reason he chose not to fight was due to his strong religious convictions as a passifist and member of the Church of the Brethren. He died in 1813, at the age of 81 years just one year before Francis Scott Key wrote The Star-Spangled Banner.

Tombstone of Jacob Studebaker marking his
burial place at Snake River, Pennsylvania -
as seen on findagrave.com

           One cannot help but wonder how family gatherings were with both men on opposing sides! I guess families have always shared differing opinions.

76 Years Ago Today -The Prize Fight the Gates Boys Missed

Major Disappointment for the Gates Boys

           On the evening of June 22, 1938, Edmund, Jr., age 19, along with his brothers, Jess, age 14, Herbert, age 9, and Jim, age 7, hopped onto Old Bertie, a gentle mare. They were headed to Glen and Fern Anson’s home to listen to the rematch between the famed boxers, Max Schmeling of Germany and Joe Lewis of the United States. Of course, the radio was the most advanced method of communication, but the Gates family had none. So the Gates boys were thrilled to have been invited to the Anson home for the sports event of the summer. They had been looking forward to hearing this boxing match from New York City for many days.
          Max Schmeling had defeated Lewis two years earlier. This had fueled the fire of Nazism in Germany. All America was interested in this rematch. The four Gates brothers had anticipated hearing the fight with their neighbors. For Edmund, Jr. getting to listen to the boxing match with one of his close friends, Arthur Wulf just made the evening that much better.  Arthur and Dorothy, his sister, had come to live with the Anson family. Edmund, Jr. and Arthur both enjoyed being active and became best friends when Arthur moved to the Bend.
         That evening as Old Bertie carried Edmund, Jr., Jess, Herbert, and Jim over the dirt road east of their house, they met Nat Abington at the bridge about one mile northeast of their farm with unbelievable news.  The boys couldn't believe their ears when they heard Mr. Abington say, “Boys, the fight is over. Lewis won.”
         Edmund, Jr. reluctantly turned the mare around and headed back home. The boys with their crushed hopes of a fun night trudged into the bunk house after reporting to their parents of missing the whole prize fight. In the early 20th century, there was no NBA Championship series, no Superbowl, no NCAA March Madness in college basketball, and only five bowl games played by the top college football teams. In the 21st century, when some major sporting event can be viewed almost every night, it is hard to understand how much their excitement must have built in anticipation of this rematch, and in turn, how dejected and disappointed the four boys must have been that night as they drifted off to sleep to awaken at dawn for another day of summer work in the field.

      History reveals Lewis knocked out Schmeling in just over two minutes. In the Great Depression of the 1930s, this victory instantly gave Americans a real-live hero in Joe Lewis when the decade had been permeated by bleakness and the despair of the economic collapse and the Dust Bowl.

Jim, Herbert, Jess, and Edmund Gates at the first Gates
Reunion at Lake Ponca in the early 1970s 

The 95th Birthday of My Father, Edmund Gates, Jr.

Dad was born on June 15, 1919, so today is his 95th birthday. This tribute was first published in the June 2009 issue of Oklahoma Living.


Dad celebrating his 80th Birthday

 Tribute to My Father

                Fathers like mine are scarce these days.  Many of my father’s experiences would have embittered other men but not Dad.  Difficult circumstances have only made him stronger and more determined in character.
                As a preteen in the early 1930s, my father was loafing and disinterested in school.  Following notification by his teacher, his father put him on the opposite end of a crosscut saw for a few days.  This exhausting work experience was meant to teach Dad the value of education and diligence.  Lesson learned.
                Attending high school required a sixty-nine-mile bus ride one way.  Frequently as Dad trotted the one-and-a- half- mile stretch to catch the bus, he carried eggs or a can of cream to sell for his mother.  Times were hard for their large family during the Great Depression, so he didn’t mind the inconvenience (or embarrassment) because it provided necessary income.
                As a teen-ager, my father’s brother was struck and killed by lightning.  They had just celebrated their June birthdays with a noon meal and a birthday cake.  My father learned to deal with loss, to grieve, and “pick up the pieces and go on.”
                My father enlisted in the Army Air Corps eight days after the bombing of Pearl Harbor.   He flew twenty-five missions over Europe as an upper turret gunner on a B-17 Flying Fortress.   After completing his combat duty and being awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, his crew was shot down over Berlin killing some of his closest buddies.  Instead of allowing the devastation of war to destroy him, Dad used it as motivation to become the best carpenter, husband, and father that he could be.  He viewed his survival of the war as an incredible gift and his experiences as precious memories with valuable lessons.
               Realizing activity is one of the keys to longevity, Dad still cares for a small herd of cattle, and each spring plants a garden with the goal of having extra to share with others.  Approaching the age of ninety, he continues nurturing his relationship with God and serving faithfully in his church. 

Dad is dwarfed in the center of his garden in 2000.

              Sometimes when I become weary of the stresses and responsibilities in life, I recall the life-altering situations that Dad has experienced and how he has thrived in spite of them.  That very thought spurs me to a life of faith, courage, and resolve to live a life worthy of being called his daughter.


Mother and Dad at the Myriad Gardens in OKC in 2002.

               Obviously, Dad is not caring for his cattle or planting a a garden since his strokes. However, he continues to nurture his relationship with God. Every day when I ask him if he wants to listen to one of the three Bible teachers that he daily hears, he always nods his head. A few weeks ago as I sat next to him during our nightly family prayer, I could feel his left hand raising. I asked him, "Were you praying?" He nodded his head. I'm sure he is praying for many of us.

              As he courageously deals with limited speech, more indoor living than he has ever had in his life, coupled with greatly limited mobility, he still inspires me. He doesn't complain or express anger through all of these difficulties. When I wrote the tribute to him in 2009, I would never imagined that God's plan for him would be to live these latter years with such limitations. Neither would I have realized that how he has handled this time would be one of the greatest motivations to live a life worthy of being called Edmund Gates, Jr.'s daughter.


So many people have mentioned they miss Dad waving from
this swing. I have a couple of goals. I want to be able to work
and accomplish as much as he did. But I also want to have the
wisdom to relax just as he is doing in the photograph.

The Staycation That Went Horribly Wrong

A Staycation in the Early Twentieth Century

                As last month kicked off the summer vacation season, I reflected on one of the Rainey staycations. Of course, the 21^st century has coined the term staycation. I heard it said, tongue-in-cheek, that a staycation simply means you are too poor or too strapped for money to go anywhere.
               Gladys Rainey Smith, my maternal grandmother, was born in 1900. She was the fourth child of seven born to Bill and Rosa Rainey. Anyone who knew my grandma knew she was spunky and determined. I have my own theory why she was like that. It has to do with birth order.
              Each of her other siblings had a special position in the family. Daisy was the oldest girl. Lewis was the oldest boy. Della died as a young child, and according to my mother, a large portrait of her always hung above Rosa Rainey’s bed. Alice was legally blind. (See the blog entry posted on February 9, 2014, entitled Alice Rainey – The Valentine Baby.) Emma was the youngest girl. Gene was the youngest boy.  Grandma didn’t have a unique place so, in my theory, she had to be multi-talented to get attention. As a result, she also became a scrapper so she wouldn’t  fall through the cracks and go unnoticed. Grandma was so creative and talented with a double dose of over achievement.
               The Rainey family lived in Konawa, Oklahoma, in the first decade of the last century. Vacations were unheard of for them. One summer in the first decade of the last century, a couple who was friends of Bill and Rosa Rainey came with their children to visit. Notice I said the couple was friends with my grandma’s parents, not necessarily their children.
              As fate would have it, the family had a daughter around the age of my grandma. And wouldn’t you know it, Grandma didn’t like her, particularly after the girl’s family had been visiting the Rainey family for over a week. Grandma must have agreed with Benjamin Franklin’s quote from Poor Richard’s Almanack, “Fish and visitors smell after three days.” So Grandma decided to hasten the family’s departure.
              The bossy, mean girl - as Grandma described her – was playing with an already unhappy, fed-up little Gladys. For some reason, they were playing in the smokehouse where there just happened to be a wasp nest. Grandma deftly knocked down the nest and scampered out the door shutting it as she escaped.  The girl's screams & flailing arms were hilarious to Grandma, but not to anyone else.  When her mother discovered what she had done, she soundly spanked Grandma, and to no one’s surprise, the family soon decided to go home. Probably in Grandma’s mind, the spanking was worth it to get rid of that despicable girl!
              I guess if Angie or I are ever assessed to be strong-willed, then we come by it naturally!

This is one of the earliest photos that we
have of Grandma. It was taken when she
was a student at Oklahoma A &  M. Notice
her unruly hair. She said as a child she cut
off her braids. Her mother exasperated with
 Grandma's action reacted with "I hope your hair
never grows again." Grandma said her hair
never grew and was always difficult to handle.

Flower Power in Life

I wrote this devotional in the spring of 2009. Obviously, we had received more rain in the Bend in 2009 than we have in 2014. But I will say I have thanked the Lord for every drop we received the last week of May this year!

Learning From the Flowers of the Field

So why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil or spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Now if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Matthew 6:28-30

            Purple is a gorgeous, rich color reminiscent of royalty and opulence. Recently on a late spring morning as I gazed on my father’s hay meadow, I noticed a purplish haze over his field instantly recognizing the predominance of vetch flowering. Lingering longer than usual, I knew this beautiful sight would soon be gone as the vetch plants matured and became ready for baling into much needed cattle fodder for the winter.

           How often we modern believers worry over the minor issues such as clothes, shoes, or 101 other insignificant things! Yet those beautiful, tiny flowers of the vetch in the pasture grow effortlessly. Jesus said Solomon, the king during the golden age of Israel, in his monarchal regalia was no comparison to God’s awesome creation. Then I am struck by the need to internalize the fact He will provide for me.

          Aren’t we frequently using precious time worrying instead of trusting our God who has promised to care for us? Rather than focus on prayer and Bible study to deepen our relationship with our precious Father, we sit wringing our hands over family budgets for material items that we will never live long enough to use. Are we believers running feverishly as rodents on exercise wheels to finance excessive wants instead of showing a watching world that our heavenly Father will abundantly supply all needs?

         Why don’t we purpose this week to ask the Lord for grateful hearts to trust instead of worry? Then let’s be sure to give our mighty God glory for how beautifully He supplied our every need.

          Lord, when I am tempted to doubt and fret over my daily concerns for my own provisions during uncertain financial times and tight budgets, remind me of the pretty little purple vetch flowers and most of all, of Your unfailing care for me, Your child.

Vetch blooming in Dad's Meadow
as photographed in 2009.