Remembering Tomasine Leigh Rainey Anson

I Thought We’d Visit When We Were Old

                   I don’t remember not knowing Tomasine Leigh Rainey Anson. She was three years older than me so as long as I can remember she was my cousin. Actually, her dad, Leo Lewis Rainey and my mother, Bernyce Smith Gates were first cousins. Growing up in the same community, riding the same bus, and attending the same school caused us to be not only cousins, but also friends.

                  My dad, Edmund Gates, Jr. liked to tell “Tom” about the first time he saw her. Her parents, Leo and Velma Bowen Rainey, had chosen her and adopted her changing her name from Darlene to Tomasine. She was around two years old when they brought her by to meet her new extended family. It was raining that day, and Dad told her the first word he heard her speak was “Wain.”

                 Her paternal grandparents, Lewis and Pearl Bierman Rainey, immediately embraced her as their darling granddaughter according to my mother’s account. Leo and Velma’s only son had died earlier of leukemia. Tomasine would be their only grandchild, and the two of them doted on her, loving her with every fiber of their being.

When I showed Aunt Emma Rainey Buckley this
             photo of Tom, she exclaimed, "She looks like a
glamour girl!"

Tom had every reason to be spoiled, irresponsible, and bratty, but she was just the opposite. She faced every challenge – she never got on a tractor that she could not maneuver with ease. In her early teen years, she could plow an entire field and till it just as well as a seasoned farmer would. Tomasine was an excellent student. She won many honors of which one was the Indian Electric Cooperative annual essay contest, being awarded an expense-paid trip to Washington, D. C. We were all so proud of her. 

This photograph of Tom from her junior year in
           high school accompanied two articles about her
             IEC essay contest win that my grandma had placed
in her scrap book.

Tomasine and I took music lessons from Mildred Wedell. Tom mastered the accordion while I took piano lessons. Tomasine performed flawlessly on her accordion at the spring recital. Her musical talent and enjoyment of playing the accordion shone throughout her performance.
                Many summers in the mid-1960s found us attending Vacation Bible School at what was then the Ralston Federated Church. (The Ralston Federated Church is now the Ralston Bible Church.) Ruth Ann Hightower provided a ride each day for me. What a fun time I had with her three children! Tom lived across the road south of the Goad family so she rode each afternoon to the VBS sessions with Ann Goad and her four kids. We learned so many strong biblical truths during each week of VBS.

                 One of the funniest stories of Tom and her dad centered around Tomasine’s junior prom. Leo, never one to observe rules, insisted on attending the Ralston High School prom literally behind the scenery. Parents participating in the junior/senior prom never occurred in the early 1970s. Even though he skewed some decorations, Leo, who had been ornery in high school, tried inconspicuously to be sure everything was above board. No other parents attended the prom except those who were teachers or school board members. It didn’t seem to bother Tom. She knew he loved her intensely and just had to see for himself that nothing negative was going on.
                As we became adults, our lives grew busier and busier with little time to visit. Every time we’d see each other at school functions – I taught her grandchildren, Ethan and Kelsey - or run into each other at Wal-Mart, we would hug, catch up a little bit, and part with her saying, “Come and see me.” I always responded, “I sure will.”

One of our last conversations was after the Spring Music concert when Kelsey Anson, her granddaughter, was in my third grade classroom. In accordance with a pioneer -type theme, Kelsey wore a nifty, creatively made bonnet that could be turned and worn as an apron. Of course, Tom had sewed it for her. She promised me the pattern.  Then she launched into her memories of my grandma, Gladys Vivian Rainey Smith. She exclaimed, “Bernadean, do you remember the little nightgowns that your grandma made for Dawn (Leann Rice Haney), you, and me? That took so much work. She took all that time to sew those for us.”

I always thought we would be much like our grandmothers who visited each other regularly, laughing and retelling stories. I can still hear Aunt Pearl’s distinctive, high-pitched laugh as her eyes wrinkled closed and visualize my grandmother, Gladys Smith, glancing sideways at her sister-in-law with that mischievous twinkle in her eye as they visited. That was not to be since Tomasine died suddenly on July 31, 2011, at her home in the west Big Bend. She was only fifty-eight years of age.

How important it is to spend time with those we love, telling them how grateful we are for them and as Dad would say, “Give them the roses while they live.” Time speeds by so fast. Unless we make time for the important,  the necessary will monopolize every waking minute, and someday we will turn around and ask, “Where did all the time go?” or worse yet, “I wish I had …”

On Tomasine's birthdate, February 23, in her memory, as family and friends, let’s purpose to never let the mundane routine of the day crowd out the once-in-a-lifetime opportunities to genuinely love those we hold so dear and let them know.

So Much More Than a School Secretary

t is hard to believe that this February 19th will mark nine years since Norma Jean Wulf's death. For those who loved and respected her, hopefully, this will be an impetus to contribute to the world the way Mrs. Wulf did.

A photo of Mrs. Wulf that captures the spirit with which
she lived life. (from findagrave.com - permission to use
from Jim L. Nelson)

           This morning as I helped Dad with his breakfast, I found myself humming “Higher Ground.” I never hum or sing this hymn without thinking of Norma Jean Wulf since she liked the hymn. Here are the words that encourage me. This second verse and its chorus typified Mrs. Wulf’s philosophy of life.

My heart has no desire to stay
Where doubts arise and fears dismay;
Though some may dwell where those abound,
My prayer, my aim, is higher ground. 

Lord, lift me up and let me stand,
By faith, on Heaven's tableland,
A higher plane than I have found;
Lord, plant my feet on higher ground.
                                         Public Domain

                   I remember attending Easter Sunrise services followed by delicious breakfasts at her home. Since my father and Mrs. Wulf's husband, Arthur, were close friends beginning when they both attended Woodland School during the early 1930s in the west Big Bend community, my father always wanted to start his Easter celebration at the Wulf farm.
               Mrs. Wulf was best known as the secretary at Crowder Elementary School in Fairfax, Oklahoma, and then serving in the same capacity after the consolidation of the two districts of Fairfax and Ralston under the new district named Woodland. She comforted and helped thousands of students during her tenure as school secretary.
               One of my most vivid memories was the day I overslept. Since Punctuality was my middle name when I taught third graders, I frantically arrived, having already called Norma Jean to report my impending tardiness. My first words indicated the regret at my tardiness. Norma Jean compassionately responded, "You probably needed the sleep." Her understanding set the tone for what could have been a trying day.
               Probably none of the students she assisted daily knew the sorrow she had been forced to deal with in her early adulthood. Both of her parents had been killed in a car accident when she was 36 years old. Her beloved husband, Arthur, had died only three years after they had celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary, making her a widow at age 49. Yet she had found the courage to enter the workforce and found a new calling that touched the lives of principals, teachers, students, and their parents as the school secretary.
               I recall reading a devotional book based on a different hymn in each day's reading. One day the hymn title was I Want a Principle Within. That hymn with such strong lyrics written by Charles Wesley wasn't to be found in the dozen or so hymnals I had. Since I knew the Wesleys were considered the founders of the Methodist denomination, and Mrs. Wulf was the church pianist at the Methodist church in Fairfax, I asked her about the hymn. The next morning on my desk in my classroom was the Methodist hymnal. Below are a couple of verses from this hymn.*

I want a principle within of watchful, godly fear,

A sensibility of sin, a pain to feel it near.

I want the first approach to feel of pride or wrong desire, 

To catch the wandering of my will, and quench the kindling fire.

Almighty God of truth and love, to me Thy power impart;

The mountain from my soul remove, the hardness from my heart.

O may the least omission pain my reawakened soul,

And drive me to that blood again, which makes the wounded whole.

                                                                                                  Public Domain

                 Mrs. Wulf lived by the principle she had within that dictated her thoughtfulness, consideration, and desire to make a difference for those she encountered. May those of us who remember her emulate her commitment to continually seek to follow the Lord in a walk that leads us to a higher place each day.

*The hymn, I Want a Principle Within might be unfamiliar to you. Here is a YouTube link to the performance of it by one of my favorite family singing groups, The Collingsworth Family.     

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XHZVow1Zi7c

No Helicopter Parenting Here

Getting Stuck on the Way to School

Edmund Gates, Jr., my father, started school at the old Woodland School when he was 4 years old. Incidentally, when I asked him why he was so young when he started, he replied, "They thought I was smart."

The original Woodland schoolhouse was located in the timber, across the road to the west from the present home of Bob and Ruth Ann Hightower. The school offered education to the local children through the first eight grades.

Mr. Armstrong, the teacher, (not related to the Armstrong family that later lived in the Bend) stayed in the bunkhouse on the Gates farm. This predated the era when Woodland had a teacherage, a house on the school property specifically built to provide housing for the teacher or teaching couple.

One morning Ella, age 8, was driving the buggy pulled by Old Fancy. Mary, age 6, and Little Edmund were with her on their way to school. Floris Cannon had spent the night with Ella. She was riding with them to school that morning, too. Ella missed the road and the buggy slid off and locked the wheel on a little black jack tree. My father recalled how he tried unsuccessfully to get the buggy unstuck so they could proceed to school. At that young age, Dad had already internalized that he was the “man” and should do all he could to rectify the situation.* As an adult, he related how impossible it was for a little four-year old to get the buggy back on the road. Yet I sensed, even as a little guy, he felt he should have been able to handle the situation. The four of them reluctantly walked back to the Gates farm to get help. Their father returned with them and cut the tree away from the wheel. Much to her credit, Fancy, the old mare, stayed very calm throughout the entire ordeal.

Mary Elizabeth and Ella Edith Gates in the school yard
of the original Woodland school house in the west Bend.

Floris Cannon Brandenburg, would later be my teacher at Ralston Public School when I was in grades four-six. She loved to rave about what a terrific mare Old Fancy was. I can still hear her exclaiming in her expressive way peppered with her inimitable laugh about her exploits with “those Gates kids.”

In light of all the concern and care given to supervision of activities of children today, I marvel that Aunt Ella was driving the buggy pulled by an animal weighing three-quarters of a ton! No one could accuse Grandma Gates of being a helicopter parent! Grandpa had no thought for the liability of having a neighbor’s child riding in a buggy with his 8-year-old driving. Boy, have times changed! Yet all four riding in that buggy lived long lives with purpose and a sense of responsibility and integrity contributing much to others in their sphere of influence.

As a retired school teacher I can’t help but wonder if the children were issued a tardy slip!

*To this day, even though Dad is unable to walk and his speech is limited, he still feels a sense of being the one “leading out” in the work, especially the care of the cattle. Less than a month ago, I had put on my sweatshirt preparing to go feed the cattle, being careful not to have on my coat or the stocking cap since I know he doesn’t like to think of me feeding the cattle by myself. To my surprise, he gazed with those big blue eyes at my sweatshirt and enunciated clearly, “What are you getting ready to do?” Old habits established by age four are hard to break at age 95!

The Snowy Drive

As friends in the Northeast were hit by a blizzard this week, I recalled this devotional article I had written several years ago. Its truth is timeless, no matter what the weather may be.

The Cardinal in the Snow

Aren’t two sparrows sold for only a penny? But your Father knows when any one of them falls to the ground. So don’t be afraid! You are worth much more than many sparrows. Matthew 10:29 and 31 (CEV)

I inched slowly through a snow-covered, desolate rural area in my small car. The icy, snow-packed county road, untouched by a road grader, was punctuated only with ruts made by three-quarter-ton feed trucks. My little vehicle frequently scraped the frozen snow piled up on the road.

A prayer remained on my dry lips. I wouldn’t have been out on this practically impassable thoroughfare if I had not expected school to be in session the following day. Having spent the weekend with my elderly parents at their farm, I had hoped to receive a call of school cancellation. It appeared that a “snow day” would not materialize. So I needed to get to my home.

I swallowed hard, licked my parched lips, took a deep breath, and resumed my unrelenting supplication of “Lord, help me” as I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my hands ached. Briefly, I glanced to the left out my car window and was astonished by what I saw.

A male cardinal with vibrant, scarlet feathers alighted near the side of the road. At that moment, that gorgeous bird and I were the only living organisms visible on that isolated stretch of road. Instantly I thought of what Jesus said about the heavenly Father’s value of the small, dullish-brown sparrow. Then He immediately followed with the comforting words, So don’t be afraid. Now He had lovingly placed this crimson fowl of beauty as a vivid reminder, “You are not alone. I am with you and will protect and care for you.”

Why in our anxiety and angst are we often blind to God’s reminders? Do we seek for His visual promptings sent daily to make us aware of His care for us or do we instead rush to worry and fret?

Lord, thank you for the many times You make Yourself known to us in our anxious moments by reminding us of Your promises. Forgive our tendency to worry first then trust You later. May our eyes always look for You revealing Yourself to us in our daily lives. Make us aware that You want to transform our trepidation into trust and our fear into faith.

This photograph of Dad and Frodo was taken on Saturday, March 1, 2003. The record snowfall began 
on Sunday, February 23. That was the day I was driving from the farm in the Big Bend to Fairfax,
where I lived and taught school. School was cancelled on February 24-26. Incidently, no matter how
cold, icy, or inclement the weather, until Dad had the stroke at age 92, he never allowed the weather 
to keep him inside. He told my sister during his 92nd winter that he "got good at falling." Fortunately,
 he broke no bones as he practiced falling that winter!