When the Raineys Lived Among the Seminoles

           Gladys Rainey Smith, my maternal grandmother, loved to entertain me with stories – always stories that were true. Her true experiences ranged from comical to adventuresome to downright scary - at least to me, since I wasn't quite the daredevil she was!  Many of these stories originated during her childhood in Konawa or Seminole County.

She delighted in telling about one of the country schools they attended while in that area. From her description, the school was designed in the “shotgun” style – just a long narrow structure and only one door. So much for meeting the fire marshal’s code! Grandma always chuckled as she told how the locals had nicknamed the building the “daubers’ den.” Some gifted rural poet crafted a little rhyme much to the dismay of the youngest pupils in the school, among whom were her youngest sister, Emma and her younger brother, Gene. (To see childhood photograph of Emma and Gene Rainey, click on: http://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/02/alice-rainey-valentine-baby.html ).

This teasing rhyme flowed from the lips of older kids provoking the little ones to tears.

The Daubers’ Den  -

The hole in the end

Where the daubers go in!

                As the name of the county denotes, the Rainey family lived among the Seminole tribe that had been forcibly removed from their homeland in Florida. Less than ten years earlier, a horrendous event occurred in that area of Indian Territory when a crazed mob became vigilantes and burned two Seminole young men at the stake. (To read the account from the Seminole perspective go to: http://www.seminolenation-indianterritory.org/seminole_burnings.htm

                The clash between the two cultures occurred one year before my grandma’s birth. However, her parents were already in Indian Territory at the time of the awful happening. I can understand why Great-grandma Rainey had such a fear and even dislike of Native Americans, even though it was unfounded. She only learned to “like Indians” after my grandpa, Calvin Callcayah Smith, married into the Rainey family. To read more about their relationship see: http://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/01/hens-humming-and-having-enough.html

                My grandma, as a child, was instructed sternly by her mother to never talk or associate with Seminole Indians. What did my defiant grandma do? Precisely the opposite! Seminole Indians riding in their wagons, enjoying fresh watermelon in the summer, stopped in front of the Rainey home. They called to my grandma, who at the time was around 8-10 years old. They asked her if they could borrow some salt for their watermelon. Grandma obliged and shared gladly. As one would expect, she got into major trouble on three accounts – talking to the Seminole Indians, lending them salt, and disobeying her mother!

                Grandma, the adventuresome one, recalled patrolling their homestead at night. The tension and uneasiness with their hosts, the Seminoles, reflected the need for vigilance. The reason for the nightly watch originated with the fence wires being cut at night and their cattle being driven onto the land of their Seminole neighbors. Grandma’s father was then required to pay an amount to the Seminole neighbor for the animals encroaching on their property! Grandma related of walking the fences of their farm, with her father holding the lantern, when they heard the zing of the barbed  wire as it was being cut! That always seemed a little too close for comfort for me, but not for Grandma. She loved the excitement of assisting her father in guarding their property.

Even though I am not as bold, courageous, or daring as my grandma, many times when faced with a daunting task, I pray to the Lord for wisdom and strength. In the back of my mind, I remember my ancestral DNA.  As Clark Kellogg, the sports broadcaster, says about second- and third-generation athletes, "You can't run from the DNA."  The memory of  my predecessors' bravery, combined with my faith in His strength, serves as a springboard to success.