Treatise on a Trailer Hubcap

Gleaming Gold in the Gloominess

Morning after morning in January, I awakened a little before sunup to refill the livestock tank with water for the cattle. The cattle had to have water in the bitter winter weather since the ponds were frozen. Pulling on the necessary garb, I prepared to face the subfreezing temperature.

The prolonged dreariness seemed to seep into my bones and psyche. I thought What a rough way to begin a day, depressed and despondent just because of the murkiness of the early morning!

Then as I trudged back up the slight incline from the stock tank, nearing the house, I spotted a gorgeous golden glow. It was only a brief early morning reflection of the brilliant sun on the hubcap of the trailer. Yet the stunningly beautiful, burnished-bronze orb lifted my spirits. It was my gleaming gold in the gloominess.

Each frigidly cold journey back from the stock tank found me looking for the glimmering sphere of radiance. Many of the daybreaks I found myself reflecting on the time in the early life of David. David knew he was to be the next king of Israel but refused to try in any way to depose the deranged King Saul even though the unbalanced monarch sought to kill David. Eventually, David and his men became refugees in the country of their enemies, primarily for the protection of their wives and children.

During a summit with the king of this enemy country, the king reaffirmed his trust in David but explained the men in his government did not share this confidence in the Israeli warrior. What horror when David and his men returned to find their adopted town burned and their wives, sons, and daughters taken captive by a vicious enemy known for ambushing the weak and the fragile to achieve an undeserved victory based in cowardice! On top of David’s awful grief, his men spoke of stoning him. Then the scripture recorded this encouraging phrase as an example to the distressed of the 21^st century in I Samuel 30:6:

But David strengthened himself in the Lord his God.

David drew reviving power from his interaction with God Himself. David’s psalms often are contemplative prayers, with agonizing questions and complaints from deep in his soul, as David interrogates God concerning his deplorable situation. Without exception, David’s strong relationship of love, confidence and dependence wins out, as David concludes each tirade with the acknowledgement that God can be trusted no matter the circumstance. That unwavering trust provided David gleaming gold in the gloominess.

As we begin observance of what is known in the Christian community as Passion Week, we are compelled to remember the betrayal of Christ, His illegal, unfair trials, ignominious treatment of the Son of God, cruelly brutal torture of the Perfect One, and ultimate crucifixion of the Prince of Peace. A glimpse into the thoughts of Jesus just before the calculated, cold-blooded violence began is revealed in the garden of Gethsemane. Jesus prayed,

He (Jesus) went on a little farther and bowed with His face to the ground, praying, “My Father! If it is possible let this cup of suffering be taken away from me. Yet I want Your will to be done, not Mine.” Matthew 26:39 (NLT)

Following the back-stabbing betrayal by Judas Iscariot, the fear of the violent arrest of Jesus incited terror in the hearts of the remaining disciples. Matthew recorded one of the saddest phrases to be heard by anyone in a crisis situation. Matthew 26:56 stated, Then all the disciples forsook Him and fled. In His hour of greatest need for support, those to whom He had devoted the last three years of His life deserted Jesus.
               Just hours earlier, during the Last Supper, Jesus Himself had proclaimed, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.” Had there been any other way to be made right with God, Jesus would not have needed to endure the shame of the cross. The emphatic statement of Jesus, coupled with His willingness to give His life on the cross, unequivocally declared faith in Him as not just one way, but the only way to heaven. This darkest week in history provided redemption for humankind, the sole way for those who respond to His offer of mercy, grace, and forgiveness.

Paul proclaims in his writing to the Philippian believers this passage that depicts the gleaming gold in the gloominess. This week may our meditation on these verses enable us to get an inkling of the sacrifice Jesus made for us and heighten our daily worship of Him, propelling us to obey with a heart of grateful love.

Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus,

Who being in the form of God,
 Did not consider it robbery to be equal with God,

But made Himself of no reputation,
 Taking the form of a bondservant, 
And coming in the likeness of men.

And being found in appearance as a man, 
He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death,

Even the death of the cross.

Philippians 2:5-8

Forever Great-Grandma's Baby

My father always referred to the brother just older than him as "Little Robert" and "Baby Johnny" was the moniker for the youngest child. Both of these sons of my paternal grandparents died as little ones. (Blog postings about these siblings of Dad are entitled "Robert Bernard Gates" and "The 75th Birthday of John Francis Gates." The posting below discusses a Rainey baby. 

She Never Grew Up

                Mother, Bernyce Smith Gates, spent many days with her maternal grandmother, Rosa Jarrell Rainey. Mother lived within a half-mile of her Grandma Rainey during most of her childhood and until her grandmother’s death.

                As an only child, she spent time by herself while her parents toiled in the field during the extreme drought and dust storms of the 1930s. The blog entitled When Grandma and Grandpa Got a Parrot Instead of Rent discussed Grandpa’s adaptation to the farming equipment so they could take Mother, as a little one, to the field with them. It can be accessed at https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2015/04/when-grandpa-and-grandma-got-parrot.html

                Mother soon became independent and savvy enough to cross the creek and walk up the hill to Grandma Rainey’s house. She enjoyed happy hours working with her beloved aunt, Alice. Even though Alice was legally blind and attended very little school, she could read large print. They cooked together. Once Mother could write, she would copy, in larger script, the recipes Alice loved to prepare.

                Many nights found Mother staying with her grandma and Alice. Each time in her grandma’s bedroom, Mother was enamored by the attention-getting portraits hanging on two of the walls. On the east wall, Mother recalled an enormous portrait of her grandfather, William Marion Rainey, with his father, Thomas J. Rainey. She remembered vividly the dark hair of her great-grandfather, whereas her grandpa had lighter colored hair. She knew he had hair with an auburn tinge even though color photography was unheard of in the Bend in the early 20^th century.

                Just above Rosa Rainey’s bed, a large photograph of a baby hung on the north wall. Mother’s grandmother never spoke about the baby whose portrait occupied such a prominent place in her bedroom. My mother, not inquisitive or a talker, under no circumstance dreamed of approaching the subject with her beloved grandmother.

Della Rainey born February 13, 1897,
died March 21, 1900. Discovering this 
wallet -sized photo of the enormous 
wall portrait was one of the highlights 
of 2018 for me.

                Often over the years, Mother has lamented the loss of her grandmother’s treasured photographs. My grandmother suspected that Aunt Emma had discarded “those old pictures” when redecorated her mother's home upon retiring to the farm from her career at the U.S. Printing Office in Washington, D.C.

                Once again, my grandma’s tattered book of recorded family history held pertinent family facts. The baby in the photograph was Della Rainey. She was born on February 13, 1897 in Shawnee, Oklahoma Territory. At Della’s birth, Daisy was almost three and a half years old. Lewis was a little over two years old. The family marked Little Della’s third birthday. Sadly, in little over a month, she died from a malady that Great -grandma Rainey called summer complaint. The name derived from its usual occurrence in the heat of summer due to food contamination stemming from the lack of refrigeration in that era. Summer complaint was an intense diarrhea causing severe dehydration leading to the death of many infants and toddlers prior to the days of medication to quickly curtail its devastating effects. As we know today, an illness of this nature can be caused by a virus or bacterial infection.

                According to the site, Michigan Family History Network, which can be accessed at: http://www.mifamilyhistory.org/genhelp/diseases.aspx , summer complaint in the weaned child may have originated because of contaminated water, milk, or food. This site used the term cholera infantum. Within 24 hours of the violent assault on the little one’s body, death can occur.

                What helplessness and heart-rending anguish Great-grandma Rainey must have felt as she sat by the bedside of Little Della! As the tiny patient worsened, her restlessness would have turned to listlessness, as her mother cradled her limp little body in her final hours. This infantile disorder, characterized by intense thirst, culminated with the cherubic face appearing to age rapidly right before her distraught mother’s eyes. By March 21, 1900, little Della Rainey was gone. Baby Della was buried in an apparently unmarked grave in the Dale Cemetery. (My research in the online cemetery records of Dale Cemetery rendered no marked burial place for the Rainey baby.)

                Curiously, my grandmother, Gladys Vivian Rainey Smith, was born less than five months later on August 11 of the same year. Grandma always said she was born in Shawnee when it was a tent city. Evidently, little Della’s death must have taken place in a tent, too. Grandma’s little, worn family history book lists “Shawnee” as the place of death for Della, the first death recorded for their immediate family.

                As I thought about the death of Della and its impact on Rosa Rainey, my great grandma, I remembered a paragraph from a blog posting entitled Hens, Humming, and Having Enough at https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/01/hens-humming-and-having-enough.html Curiously, Mother remembered her grandmother’s humming. I recalled humming during the days of when Dad faced grave illness and uncertainty from hour to hour, as I provided the mundane but necessary and comforting care. My spirit was lifted as I hummed, and I think Dad was uplifted, too.  I knew we shared the daily awareness of how the Lord used music to redirect our thoughts and hearts back to Him.

                Then I remembered a hymn written by one of the most prolific hymn lyrists of the latter 19^th century. Fanny Crosby, the gifted blind poet, wrote many of the songs loved and sang by the believers in the late 1800s. Fanny Crosby and her husband had one baby born to them, a precious little girl in 1859. Although nothing is recorded about her grief over the death of her only baby, the song designated as the most beloved hymn written by Crosby has been speculated as an expression of her grief turned into a testimony of hope and assurance. In 1868, Fanny Crosby crafted Safe in the Arms of Jesus. Below are the encouraging words of the third verse and chorus:

Safe in the Arms of Jesus

Jesus, my heart’s dear refuge,

Jesus has died for me;

Firm on the Rock of Ages,

Ever my trust shall be.

Here let me wait with patience,

Wait till the night is o’er;

Wait till I see the morning

Break on the golden shore.

Safe in the arms of Jesus,

Safe on His gentle breast,

There by His love o’ershaded,

Sweetly my soul shall rest.

                Numerous people told Fanny Crosby how the song she designated her favorite, Safe in the Arms of Jesus, carried them through losses and gave comfort beyond belief. The tender picture of their beloved cradled in the arms of Jesus provided comfort above measure.

Since this hymn quickly became a standard for funerals during that era, it is likely Great-grandma Rainey, a young Christian saved only four years earlier, sought and found courage in the Word of God and maybe even this song to know her Baby Della was safe in the arms of Jesus.

Barberin' in the Bend

Grandpa as a Barber

March 13, 2018 marks 114 years since my grandfather’s birth. Grandpa lived in the Hickory Grove community in Eastern Oklahoma in his earliest days. In 1894, the year of his birth, Hickory Grove was in Delaware District in the Cherokee Nation. The Dawes Rolls recorded Grandpa’s degree of Cherokee blood as one-half. He had been named for his paternal grandfather. More about my fascinating great-grandfather can be accessed at https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2016/05/its-more-than-first-holiday-of-summer.html Soon after the final Dawes Rolls were concluded, the land of the Cherokee Nation would be divided among the original allottees of the Cherokee people.

My grandfather, Calvin Callcayah Smith, gained experience as a carpenter in the notorious lead mines of Picher, Oklahoma during his 20s. Following the death of his father, Walter Smith, Grandpa migrated to Osage County at the apex of  the rough and tumble days of the oil boom. He continued utilizing his carpentry skills to construct the wooden derricks for the wildcatters who had been drawn by the gushers in the Burbank field. To learn more about his early days in Osage county, access the blog posting entitled Did the Warmest January in Oklahoma During the 20^th Century Cause This? https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2015/01/did-warmest-january-in-oklahoma-during.html

Within the year, Grandpa had married Gladys Vivian Rainey on July 23, 1923. After their marriage, my grandparents lived in Picher where Grandpa resumed working in the lead mines. Before the birth of my mother, Bernyce, in October of 1924, they moved into the Big Bend community, planting their roots deep into rocky soil of the Osage.

Grandpa farmed, with Grandma by his side, during the 1920s. They continued during the oppressive Great Depression planting in the hard-crusted soil, praying for just enough rain to have just enough pasture for the cattle and to produce just enough from the garden to subsist. World War II improved the economy, but unfortunately exacted a toll that devastated several families of young men from the Bend.

During the Depression, no money for extras could be found by Benders. Grandpa became the community barber. His youngest brother, Walter Smith, cut men’s hair professionally in numerous barbershops he owned in eastern Oklahoma including Chouteau and Miami. Grandpa, however, never charged for the clipping and snipping he did.

Walter J. Smith, a favorite
 uncle of my mother's. He died
suddenly when only 49 years
old. I located a letter written
just months after Walter's death
 to my grandma from Margaret
 Ewers, the youngest sister of my
grandpa. Her grief over "Wadie"
permeates the letter. 

Interestingly, Sunday seemed to be the favorite day for people to come to their home for haircuts. This routine gradually began to change after my grandparents’ salvation. They began faithfully attending church each Sunday. Soon Benders that arrived early on Sunday morning found an invitation extended to them to accompany my grandparents to worship and then get their hair cut in the afternoon.

My mother, Bernyce Smith Gates, recalled one haircut that turned their home upside-down. A mild-mannered man with a headful of bushy hair turned up for a cut. To her horror, my grandmother discovered head lice infestation as the hair fell to the floor of their home! Grandpa, a man of extremely few words, hadn't said anything, but just kept cutting.
Thankfully, the lice sighting predated the days of carpeting. As soon as the man with his new haircut exited their front door, Grandmother began intense, deep cleaning. That was the only time Mother remembered the “barber battling bugs.” Ironically, even though most people in the Bend were "living from hand to mouth" at that time, head lice were extremely rare, as Mother  characterized, "almost unheard of."

All haircuts were done pro bono. Grandpa was not the only one who did things free of charge. Stories were told of Depression-era farmers with early day trucks loaded with Benders whom they had “gathered” as they headed toward town on Saturday. By the time they crossed the Belford Bridge over the Arkansas River, the truck beds with sideboards were packed to capacity with people eager for a lift to town. Perhaps it was the closest this area would ever get to an Uber service.

Coincidentally, as I crafted this blog posting, I met and visited with Bryan “Junior” and Shelly Badley Hutchison. Bryan recalled my grandparents. Then he said, “You know Gladys delivered my half-brother Richard in a little house north of that little bridge just east of your mom’s house.” That was in 1937. (In Oklahoma, a fee for a midwife's service range from $2,000-3,500 according to a Channel 8 - KTUL news story.) To read more about Grandma’s nursing for free, access one of my blog postings at https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2015/06/summer-school-in-early-20th-century.html

I have benefitted from neighbors’ generosity frequently since moving back to the Big Bend. I seek to respond with heartfelt gratitude, knowing there is no way to repay the kindness shown to Mother and me. “To boil it down” as Dad would say, Mother and I would not have been able to remain on the farm without neighbors and friends bailing us out of crisis situations. Other Benders have supported and encouraged us by doing things that had to be done, but we could in no way do by ourselves.

God’s Word addresses helping those in need much like the impoverished during the Great Depression. In the book God inspired King Solomon, the wisest man who ever lived, to write a proverb on the topic.

He who is gracious and lends a hand to the poor lends to the Lord,

And the Lord will repay him for his good deed.

Proverbs 19:17

A week never passes without Mother and I expressing to each other how grateful we are for so many who have helped us. It also seems each week a situation arises in which, no matter how creative we are, we are powerless to solve our problem by ourselves. Yet God is faithful to provide people willing to help us with joyful hearts. These people put into practice Solomon’s admonition.

Do not withhold good from those who need it, when you have the ability to help.

Proverbs 3:27

Not everything about the Great Depression was bad. A helping community warms many hearts - the givers and the recipients.

Walter J. Smith (the youngest brother of Grandpa), Jack Ewers
(the husband of Grandpa's youngest sister, Margaret), Grandpa
(Calvin Callcayah Smith), Edmund Gates, Jr., my father.
This photo was taken in the 1950s when we lived on the Omer
 Jefferson, Jr.'s place just south of where Mother's farm is now.
Notice the adirondack chair in the background. My grandpa,
Calvin Callcayah Smith, built two at the request of Grandma.

70 Years Ago - The Beginning of Something Long-lasting

Celebrating the Understated Wedding

                Today 70 years ago, my parents, Edmund Gates, Jr. and Bernyce Smith, were married in a ceremony in a pastor’s study in Tulsa, with strangers as witnesses. The low-budget wedding was comprised of a gardenia corsage, a quality set of bridal rings, and a well-dressed couple.

                Dad’s sisters, Ella and Mary, had helped him select clothing with some of his mustering out pay when he was discharged from the military in 1945. His two older sisters advised him wisely to choose a suit of high quality. On March 4, 1948, he donned that suit for his wedding. Mother chose a gray pinstripe suit, with a three-quarter length matching coat, accented with a white scarf. Dad insisted they stop at a florist’s shop to have a gardenia corsage designed for Mother prior to going to the pastor’s study to exchange their vows.

                At Drake’s Jewelry in Ponca City, Oklahoma, Mother had chosen her favorite bridal set. Dad approved it and purchased it for $234, which would translate to $2,465.24 in 2018, according to the website, savings.org. Mother’s parents, even her doting father who never challenged his only daughter’s opinions, thought the wedding ring expense was extravagant and the money should have been saved for living expenses.

                My parents were married 67 years prior to Dad’s death in 2015. On the 70th anniversary of their marriage, I sought the components for a successful marriage, particularly for my parents. In my memory, I recalled a few principles that Dad valued in marriage and family living.

My parents - Edmund, Jr. and
Bernyce Smith Gates i 1952.
(Photographs were a rarity even
in the 1950s.)

                “I didn’t want any pouting. Pop would pout for days.” Dad explained his father pouted particularly if he was upset at Grandma. My father determined that when he had his own family no one would pout. Mother said she would just get quiet. Dad would pester her until she talked.

                I was prone to pouting or withdrawing as a little one. Dad would have none of it. He insisted that I remain with the family. His comment, spoken with a cheerful, upbeat voice, was, “I want to visit with you.” His cheerful tone irritated me, but I obediently stayed with the family instead of retreating. Dad achieved his goal. Angie and I are not pouters. Mother said of herself, “He probably wished I would have kept quiet as I got older.”

                Both Mother and Dad prized highly a peaceful, enjoyable mealtime. Dad said the mealtime when he grew up almost always had somebody crying – one of the kids or Grandma. Dad explained that was the only time Grandpa could get all the family together and get them “straightened out.” (In Grandpa's defense, he was trying to feed the many little mouths of his large family from his small farm during the Great Depression.)

                Mother related that her mother used the mealtime as a “working” meal – a time to clarify the work that needed to be accomplished. With Grandma’s high standards, there was always someone or something that needed to be corrected. (Since moving in with Mother, I resist the temptation to discuss “business” such as cattle issues or farm and home maintenance at our meals. That remains paramount to Mother.)

                Another necessity for Dad in his marriage was that he and Mother never went to bed mad. As a family, we read the Bible and prayed together nightly. That almost guaranteed that no one went to bed disgruntled.

                Mother wanted a man who would work. When Dad returned from his tour of duty in Europe and came to take her on a date, he offered to finish chopping her row of cotton so she could get ready. (Chopping cotton meant that Mother and her parents went up and down the rows of cotton, cutting down the weeds and thinning the cotton plants so none were closer than six inches.) Dad’s eagerness to step in and take her place scored points for him in her eyes. She detested the hot, sweaty drudgery of field work. Dad, on the other hand, never encountered a job that was too dirty or too demanding. The weather wasn’t too cold or too hot if the task needed to be done.

                Dad and Mother had distinct roles in their marriage. He never cooked a meal. She never did field work “after he came on the scene.” They respected each other’s contribution to the success of their marriage. Mother never dreamed of asking him to do any household chore. She knew how hard he had worked “pounding nails” and then came home each evening to catch up on farm work.

Frequently, I heard Dad tell someone, “My wife earns her living within three feet of the kitchen sink.” He knew she rose early to pack a good lunch for him when he worked away from home. (Since he didn’t like sandwiches, she put extra effort into his lunch, usually something like a hearty soup in a hot thermos and tasty fruit in a cold thermos.) He detested eating out when he did carpenter work. Mother prepared three meals a day for Dad. After he retired from carpentry, he told me, “Lots of time, Bernyce and I sit at the table and visit for over an hour after we eat.”

Together they worked hard, lived conservatively, and put God first in their relationship. They both contributed 24/7 with all the effort they could give to make a life for their family. By learning to find contentment in intangibles – primarily family interaction - recreating as a family, working as a family (with Mom and Dad showing us work can be “fun”), and committing themselves to show us a family enjoys doing things together. 

When Angie and I asked about Dad getting gifts for certain days for Mother on holidays or for her birthday, he confidently said, “I’m good to her 365 days a year.” After being married to him for 67 years and being a widow for 3 years, Mother would agree that being good to her daily was just about the best gift he could have given.

Portrait of my parents taken by Catherine Marie Gates

LeForce at their 60th wedding anniversary. 

Guidelines for Marriage

·         Choose someone who is willing to work hard.

·         Respect each other and what the other contributes to the marriage.

·         Don’t end the day angry at each other.

·         Read God’s Word and pray together each day.

          Good marriages are not impossible even in the 21^st century. A man and woman committed to making their marriage work can still celebrate many decades of marital success.
           I offer blessings to each couple who is working as diligently as my parents did at their marriage. The rewards for your children, your friends, and for the two of you are unmeasurably satisfying and long-lasting.

To read more about my parents' wedding, access a more-detailed blog post at

https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/03/not-much-of-wedding.html