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.