When a Gates Hunter Hit the Papers

It so happened that I located Uncle Jim's newspaper clipping just this week which coincidentally is just prior to his 84th birthday on January 28th. Undoubtedly, a multitude of "Gates" hunting stories are floating around out there. This is just one.

The Cat That Uncle Jim Caught

                I was hesitant to write this blog post since I have never fired a gun. Of course, I’ve been told that needs to change. Perhaps if DNA is all that is necessary for accurate and safe shooting, based on the following accounts, I might have a shot at it.

My father’s family tales reveal my grandmother, Mamie Irene Tripp Gates, as an accomplished markswoman. If need be, she could locate and shoot the squirrel. Then Dad’s resourceful mother would fry it up in the pan. According to my mother, my maternal grandmother, Gladys Vivian Rainey Smith, could bring down a squirrel deftly, too.

With my own eyes, I observed my father, in his mid-80s, drop a skunk with one shot while he trotted toward it north of my parents’ farmhouse! The acquisition of his shooting prowess is discussed in the passage from his memoirs, Okie Over Europe.

Six enlisted men of Edmund’s crew transferred to Wendover, Utah, on June 1, 1942, for gunnery school.  They practiced shooting skeet and fired on burst into a mound of dirt with a 30-caliber weapon.  Upon completing these two activities, they were told, “You are gunners.”  Ironically, he would only fire two 50-caliber guns in combat.  He always said he had very little training to become a gunner.  Fortunately, he had honed his marksman skills while on the farm.  Often he and his brothers had provided his family with wild game as a result of their hunting as boys.

The Gates’ boys owned hounds and guns from young ages. When Jess was quite young, he received  a rifle off the community Christmas tree . The blog post entitled The Christmas Tree and the Stolen Watch published on December 15, 2013, told of this Christmas gift. Ironically, their father told Jess to let my father carry the gun when they went hunting. What a testament to the faith Grandpa had in their obedience to follow his instruction and share even when they weren’t in his presence!

My father, Edmund Gates, Jr., said, “Herb and Jim always had hounds.” Dad intimated that Jim and Herb perfected the training regimen of their hounds. Those determined boys were committed to their hunting and their dogs. 

One of the prized hounds of Herb and Jim

Herb and Jim in adulthood continued their evening hunting excursions. Sometimes Dad went hunting with them. One evening when Herb’s older sons, Steve and Mark, were quite young, the two of them stayed a few hours at our house while their father and his brothers hunted. Of course, my maternal grandparents lived with us. Grandma made things like popcorn and cookies for us. Grandpa insisted the boys have a little “pop.” Back then, carbonated beverages were only for special occasions. As we sat at the dining room table enjoying our treats, my grandparents were entertained with Steve and Mark’s stories of “snapper snakes.” After the treats, we were encouraged to nap on pallets in the living room when Mark and Steve discovered a throw pillow they dubbed the dog bone because of its shape and enjoyed taking turns relaxing on it. Grandma’s eyes twinkled later as she chuckled at the boys’ snapper snake stories when she recalled their visit.

Evidently, Grandma Gladys admired a great marksman since I found a timeworn newspaper clipping, dating back to the 1960s, affixed in one of her scrap books. She wasn’t related to Uncle Jim but always loved and was interested in him, Uncle Herb, and Uncle Jess. She usually shared of her faith in Jesus when she visited with “the boys.” Ironically, in one of my last conversations with Uncle Jess, he mentioned her. One of the last people to whom Grandma Gladys spoke following her debilitating stroke was Herb when he visited her just a few months before her death.

What a boon to discover the photo of Uncle Jim Gates in his carpenter overalls displaying the first bobcat he bagged! The caption of this clipping gives interesting details surrounding the successful hunt. The photograph had appeared in the Ponca City News. Aunt Lou’s willingness to allow this sport exemplifies her commitment to her marriage. She knew hunting was important to him and was an exciting outlet for him. 

Recently, I have spoken with different individuals about the importance of all family members’ unity in support of the young children in the home. My four grandparents’ genuine friendship with one another provided stability and security for a little girl like me. My maternal grandparents’ embrace of my uncles, aunts, and cousins from the paternal side of my family created an enormous circle of love and caring that exists to this day. My uncles, aunts, and cousins on my paternal side showed respect for Grandpa and Grandma Smith that only enlarged the circumference of affection drawing together a massive number of people that continues to thrive even today. The power of a family’s love and respect is inestimable in its value in lives of the old and the young.

Did the Warmest January in the Oklahoma During the 20th Century Cause This?

Dealing with frigid weather this January caused me to seek warmth. As a result, I discovered on the NOAA website that Oklahoma's warmest January in the 20th century was recorded in 1923, with 48 degrees Fahrenheit being the average for the month. Both of my grandfathers had stories surrounding a weather event of 1923 that is shared in the following account.

The Big Flood of 1923

Edmund, Jr., my father, remembered “The Big Flood of ‘23.” It took out all bridges (Kaw City, Ponca City, Belford, Ralston, and Blackburn) on the Arkansas River. Cholera washed down the river. This was devastating to swine producers since many hogs took the disease and died. There was no Johnson grass growing in the Bend prior to this flood. During this flood, the Johnson grass seed washed down from the Upper Bend, and farmers have been fighting it ever since.

When the Belford Bridge went out, a ferry provided a way across the river. Dick Wright and his boy, Clyde ran the ferryboat. Two little black mules pulled the ferry off the sand bar. Then the two little black mules stepped on the ferry, and a motor pulled the ferry across the Arkansas River. Mr. Wright used the command “Pete Pete” to get the mules to pull the ferry onto or off the sand bar. The two little black mules made a lasting impression on Dad who was just a small boy of four years old in 1923.

Prior to a later flood, Edmund, Sr., my paternal grandpa, had his alfalfa shocked on the flat land or “2nd bench.” The word bench means “a flat terracelike tract of land above a stream bed or along a coast” according to The American College Dictionary. The river was lapping the bank. Grandpa and Grandma Black came over Sunday afternoon in the hack, a small carriage pulled by a single horse. (For additional information about my father's maternal grandmother and step-grandfather, access the blog post entitled The Marriage of Robert and Nettie Black that published on October 6, 2013.) Grandpa Black told Edmund, Sr., “You’re a fool not to go ahead and haul it out because it’s going to wash it away.” Edmund, Sr. replied, “Bob, no, I think the raise is already here.”  The next morning the shocks of precious alfalfa hay had all floated away. Grandpa Gates wished he had listened to his father-in-law, the voice of experience.

A photograph that my grandfather, Calvin Callcayah Smith had from his
experience in Kaw City during the Flood of 1923.

 My maternal grandpa, Calvin Callcayah Smith came to Osage County, Oklahoma, in 1923, and lived with Jack Miller, his cousin, and his family in the Big Bend community. For a time Grandpa worked in the oil boom of the 1920s, as a carpenter building wooden oil derricks. While employed in the oil fields of the Osage, he lived in a hotel in Kaw City, Oklahoma. Even though Grandpa’s room was on the second floor, he was forced to evacuate when the historic flood of 1923 occurred. The rushing current of the out-of-control Arkansas River had swollen out of its banks, encroaching on areas never before touched by flooding. The above photograph belonging to my grandpa was in Grandma Gladys Vivian Rainey Smith’s picture album. The photograph captures the rushing torrent of the rampaging river in downtown Kaw City.

Sometimes we think disasters and setbacks are unique to our existence in the 21^st century. With so many peripheral difficulties surely no other generation could have had as many challenges as those of us in the second millennium. That’s just erroneous. Grandpa Gates had a young family - a wife, two daughters and two sons. Their subsistence depended solely upon the crops he grew and the livestock he raised. He had no apps for weather notification and not even a government agency to predict when the river would crest. When the alfalfa shocks washed off the second “bench” as the flooded Arkansas River raged past his bottom land, it is hard to fathom how he must have been feeling when he realized what had happened. I once asked my father, Edmund Gates, Jr. what people do when disaster strikes. He simply said, “They put one foot in front of the other.”

Grandpa Smith in his late twenties had come to Osage County to start anew following the death of his beloved father by relocating to a new region and learning a new trade in the wild and wooly oil patches of the burgeoning cutthroat industry. Grandpa was encompassed by the unsavory, as they scratched and clawed to quench their insatiable thirst for the black gold flowing under the rocky Osage terrain. My grandpa’s quiet, introverted personality desired peace and tranquility, yet he found himself facing a natural disaster evicting him from his second story lodging with his meager possessions in hand. Yet somehow, Grandpa rose above the catastrophe of the flood of 1923.

 These men from whom I descend were neither broken or destroyed by the decimating deluge. Dad often quoted with his own twist Neitzsche’s quote That which does not kill us makes us stronger. Both of my grandfathers lived to be 88 years old, proving misfortune and difficulty didn’t shorten their lives but toughened and strengthened them. 

The Little Girl That Left the Bend for Kansas City

                January 15 will mark the 100^th year since Ella Edith Gates, the oldest daughter of Edmund, Sr. and Mamie Irene Tripp Gates, was born in the Big Bend community west of Ralston, Oklahoma. In Dad’s vintage photograph collection, the first mention I have found of little Ella was on the back of the photographic postcard of Roy Carter pictured below. Roy was the son of Edmund, Sr.’s sister, Ella. His mother wrote on the card “Roy says many times he wants to see Uncle Ed and the baby’s mamma and Baby.” Little Roy said to his mother, “Let’s go to Oklahoma.” According to the back of the postcard postmarked September 10, 1915, the day she wrote the card was Roy’s fourth birthday.

Roy Carter, my father's cousin, who later practiced
law in Kansas City. The photo was  taken in the fall
of 1915 when he was four years old.

                  My grandpa, Edmund Gates, Sr. was committed to education for his oldest daughter. (For more insight into Grandpa’s philosophy on the education of women, see the blog post of May 4, 2014, entitled The Burial in the School Yard.) In the first decade of the 20^th century, in the west Big Bend community where he and Grandma had settled, there was only the Woodland School situated in the timber across the road on the west from where Bob and Ruth Ann Hightower now live. Grandpa felt strongly Ella Edith should go to kindergarten. The solution that he proposed was that Ella, his daughter, would go live with his sister and her namesake, Ella in Kansas City, to attend kindergarten.

                At the last Gates reunion Ella attended before her death, she sat and visited with me specifically mentioning this time in Kansas City. She intimated that her father had pushed for her attendance of kindergarten. She said, “Mama really didn’t like for Papa to send me to Aunt Ella’s to go to kindergarten.” It is understandable that Grandpa didn’t see a problem with this arrangement since as a preschooler he had been sent to live with his uncle and aunt. (See blog post entitled The Early Days of Edmund Gates, Sr. that was posted on December 1, 2013, for more explanation of the reason that Grandpa was sent to live in Illinois with his relatives.)

                As we continued visiting at her final reunion, Aunt Ella told me it was a hard time for her to be away from her parents. She also had a four-year-old sister Mary Elizabeth. In Dad’s vintage photograph collection, I found two photographs of Ella. As I researched, I discovered that these two photographs had been taken at Paseo Boulevard in Kansas City. This area of the city had been laid out as a parkway in the early 1900s.

A very serious Ella Edith Gates posing at the base of the bas-relief sculpture of
August Robert Meyer, the first president of the Commission of Parks. He had
 led in the development of the Paseo Boulevard which had been inspired by the
Paseo de la Reforma in Mexico City.

                As I studied the photographs that were taken around 95 years ago when little Ella was in the metropolitan area to attend kindergarten, she exudes sadness, appearing to be on the verge of bursting into tears. Even though her father wanted what was best for her, it was a difficult time for a five-year-old to be away from her family for an entire school term.

Ella Edith Gates under the pergola (arbor) covered with wisteria vines. It was
constructed in The Paseo in Kansas City in 1899. The perspective of this photo
conveys the loneliness of a tiny, little girl in a large, unfamiliar city.

                The positive impact from this year spent by Ella Edith with her Aunt Ella laid the foundation for her later graduation from Fairfax High School and completion of Hill’s Business College in Oklahoma City. These accomplishments were not common among young women who grew up in the Big Bend in the 1920s. Her son, Ron Bledsoe told me he always knew how fond his mother was of  Aunt Ella Passingfair Gates Carter Meyer. Ella Edith rose above the challenge of being a little girl who missed her mother horribly coupled with the gnawing homesickness for the only home she had ever known. She forged a strong relationship with an aunt who agreed her niece deserved the best education possible and did all she could that year to ensure she received the most progressive instruction of the early 20^th century. (For more photos of these two Ellas, see the blog post entitled The Three Ellas, that appeared on August 24, 2014)

                Ella Edith Gates Bledsoe and her husband, Harry valued education for their son, Ron and their daughter, Mary Beth. (To view a family photo in the 1950s of Ella’s family see the blog post published on December 29, 2013 with the title 69 Years Ago – “Orange and Black Forever.”) Ron earned his degree from Ole Miss – University of Mississippi, while Beth completed her degree in speech pathology from Oklahoma State University.
                Aunt Ella Gates Bledsoe's grappling with kindergarten in Kansas City stands as a striking illustration of adversity's power to build character, develop emotional stamina, and amidst it all, cultivate a lasting bond with a dear loved one. When we find ourselves in a harsh or challenging situation, maybe we will remember the little girl who left the Bend, endured loneliness, but began her journey on the road to being educated. Most of all, when trying ordeals come into our lives, may we pursue quality relationships rather than withdrawing into a cocoon of self pity. The surprising result from difficult predicaments will be unexpected, but incredible personal growth, just as little Ella Edith experienced.

Putting Away All Christmas Decorations But One

 Taking down decorations has been almost effortless following Christmas 2014. An explanation is needed. A minimalist approach was a necessity in our home’s Christmas décor this year. The equipment needed for Dad’s care requires a considerable amount of room in the living room of my parents’ farmhouse leaving little room for a tree. Since Dad’s care is the main priority on the farm, the decorations had to take second place.

Last year Dad had helped me erect the artificial tree that I moved from my place when I retired from teaching. The ornaments reflected memories spanning over 70 years, with Mother’s cherished angel from the 1940s, to innumerable ornaments given by former students to me during Christmas pasts.

For many years prior to that, we had a live cedar tree cut from our pasture. Almost every year Angie, my sister, would go with Dad to ensure the tree was perfect. What a major task it was to keep the tree bucket full of water to keep the tree green and fireproof especially when Charmin, Angie's cat drank from it, too! It wasn’t the typical tree because Dad would use a rope to secure the tree to the vintage china cabinet to make sure the tree stayed upright through the Christmas season.

Dad and Angie preparing to take the tree into the house. Dad used to say
               one of the most common mistakes when cutting a tree was selecting
a tree that was too large for the indoor space.

This year I suggested we use the 24-inch fiber optic Christmas tree that I had used in my classroom when I taught third graders. I had read of a Haitian Christmas custom of placing a nativity under a home’s Christmas tree, if the family could afford a tree. There are few Christmas presents under the Haitians’ trees since the annual per capita income is less than $400 according to the United States State Department’s website.

The miniature fiber optic 
Christmas tree.

As I was putting the nine ornaments plus the star topper on the miniature fiber optic tree, I told Dad that I thought I could find a small nativity set from the variety of the ones Bobby Simma, a former Woodland Elementary School principal, had given each Christmas to his teachers. Dad nodded to me, as I remembered in earlier days how he had often commented that Bobby was a “good school man.” Sure enough, I located the perfect nativity set. Within just a matter of minutes, it was in place under the tiny tree.

The nativity set I had received from Bobby
 Simma in 1998.

During the past month, I reflected on the lack of Christmas decorations, but surprisingly enough, the trade-off paid great dividends. Mother and I sang several Christmas carols each night before Dad fell asleep. Dad quite regularly through the month listened on his iPod to his Christmas playlist of traditional Christmas standards performed by George Strait and Bing Crosby. The music brought the joy of the birth of Christ with its eternal impact into our reality.

One other ornament found its way to the diminutive tree. Cathy, a friend of mine from my Russia trip experience, went to Kosovo this past November to assist rural families with special needs children since the Kosovar educational system cannot provide the support needed for a quality education for these precious little ones. While in the region, she reconnected with a dedicated mother who daily goes to school with her little girl who has Down’s Syndrome and serves as the classroom aide to her daughter since the school cannot afford to hire a paraprofessional for her. She created the handcrafted ornament that Cathy sent to me. Cathy’s purchase of her ornaments made it possible for this devoted mother to purchase Christmas gifts for her family. So many aspects of this account illustrate Christmas from Cathy’s willingness to serve in a country whose average monthly income is around $400 to a loving mother committed wholeheartedly to her daughter in an effort to help her succeed.

Giving of ourselves to those we love with our time and resources is possibly one of the best ways to observe Christmas. How like the first Christmas gift this is! God loved humans so much that He lovingly and willingly gave His Son to be misunderstood, ridiculed, and crucified for those of us who could never pay Him back.

In spite of limited festive decorations this Christmas, we knew how to keep Christmas well as Charles Dickens said of the enlightened Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol. May we vow as Ebenezer Scrooge declared with a determined voice, “I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all year long.” Let’s pledge to daily give as God has given unreservedly to us with joy and lavishness.

I think I'll keep out this handcrafted
Kosavar ornament as a tangible reminder
to daily honor Christmas in my heart.