Remembering Herbert Gates

             I recall the heartbreaking sadness at the passing of Uncle Herb at only 59 years of age on March 28, 1988. Yet as I see the children and grandchildren of his son, Steve, so frequently at church, sometimes I make the comment to them, "Your grandpa (great-grandpa) would be so pleased with you." This post originally appeared to honor Herbert's memory on his birthday, but am reposting it with some editing to mark 32 years since Herbert's death.  (Access https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2022/01/remembering-james-franklin-gates.html to view the youngest photo that I have seen of Herb and Jim.)

            Herbert was born on July 14, 1928, in the Big Bend Community west of Ralston in the two-room house that belonged to Edmund, Sr. and Mamie Irene Tripp Gates. His father, a life-long supporter of the party of Lincoln, wanted to name him after the sitting president, Herbert Hoover. His mother felt that was a bit much of a name to tack onto her precious, tiny son. When Mrs. Mary Goad, a dear neighbor, suggested, “William is a nice name because he can be called either William or Bill or Billy,” then Mamie Gates chose William Herbert for their newest baby boy. Incidentally, he was never called William, Bill, or Billy but always referred to as Herbert, Herb, or Herbie.

            Just about two and a half years later, as my father would say, another boy came along. When Jim was born in January of 1931, (See the blog post of January 26, 2014, entitled James Franklin Gates and His First Trip with the Big Boys to the Arkansas River.) Edmund, Jr., my father who was eleven years old, said Herb took one look at that little baby with his mother and headed to the bunk house to begin sleeping with the big boys, Edmund, Jr., Fredrick, and Jess. Dad recalled my grandmother admonishing them, “Don’t you big boys roll over and smother little Herbert.” 

            Soon, despite their rocky beginning, Herb and Jim bonded to the point that seldom were their names spoken separately. Those two boys hunted together until Herb’s hearing and health ended those exciting late night events. The two of them doubled the fun but also doubled the orneriness that they could get involved in doing. Dad mentioned acting “dumb” when his father asked him about the family truck having very little gas indicating it had been used the night before when all the time Edmund, Sr. had the key in his possession. Grandpa was an expert at driving a team and wagon but knew little about hot-wiring a pickup!

Herbert and Jim Gates with the pickup they hot-wired.

Jim and Herb with Morgan

          Several cousins, like me, may recall Uncle Herb always had at least a half-stick of gum to the delight of his nieces and nephews.

            As with all of the Gates sons, Herb was a wonderful storyteller, but he reportedly said, “I always make it just a little bigger.” Uncle Jess’s daughters said their father said a story must be “embellished.”

            Herb told Dad if he was in the Bend around midday, he always managed to be at their home place because as he said, “If you’re there around noon, you’ll get a hot meal.” Grandma loved to oblige her dear son by feeding him. On numerous occasions, I heard Grandma speak adoringly about Herbert’s actions, “Wasn’t that dear?”

            I could mention his service in the Navy or his impeccable craftsmanship with wood or his unwavering love for his children and grandchildren, but for me, one of my greatest memories were associated with Uncle Herbert’s commitment to his faith in the Lord Jesus. He would drive each Wednesday evening to attend Bible study at the church even after he began having the burnouts connected to his brain cancer. He prayed for people, shared with them his faith, and enjoyed talking about God’s love for people and how He revealed that in His Word. His last pastor, Charles Welch, always repeated with emotion Herbert's comment about the blindness resulting from his brain tumor and his impending death, “The next face I see will be the face of Jesus.” May Herbert's commitment to the Lord serve as an impetus for each of us to affirm we have that kind of relationship with Jesus. If we are assured of our relationship with Jesus, may Uncle Herb's devotion deepened by his suffering impact our daily walk with Him.

Lost - My #1 Record-Keeping Tool

                        Recently, as we prepared to sell cattle, late on Friday, I decided to snap one last photo of the cow we were culling. Since Dad’s stroke, I have used my small camera given to me by my brother-in-law to record photos for Mother to see what is occurring out in the pastures with her cattle herd.

                Just as the sun began sinking under the west horizon, I returned to the house. I still had several needful tasks to complete that Friday evening. I reached in both jeans pockets and pulled out two empty hands. The left one should have retrieved the small camera.

                After unsuccessful searches where I stored my gloves and where I fed the cats, I told Mother I would be back shortly. I zipped out with a small lighted lantern and inspected thoroughly the seat of the cab of the feed truck. No trace of the tiny camera in its protective case could be found.

                As I trudged back to the house, I recognized I had two choices: I could begin complaining, lamenting, and questioning why this had happened to me or I could begin praying for God to give me a peace even though I had no clue about the whereabouts of my #1 recording tool. I prayed fervently as I approached the house, “Father, keep me from letting a complaint come out of my mouth. Give me a peace amidst uncertainty about the camera. Give me faith to know You will bring good from this seemingly horrible situation." I think I even shook my head as if to dislodge the thought about the myriad of photos on my SD card in the camera. Then I whispered, “God, help me trust this to You.” Surprisingly, I did trust Him that night.

                The following early morning, my sister and brother-in-law came. With patience, teamwork, and a slow-paced maneuvering of a few errant bovines, we achieved getting the cattle sorted for selling. Soon the truck and trailer arrived for transporting them to the Pawnee Livestock Sale.

                As I moved the feed truck, I opened the truck door to exit. I could hardly believe my eyes. There in the compartment of the driver’s door was the missing camera!

                As I stuck the lost camera deep in my jacket pocket, I silently prayed, “Lord, You had to have caused that camera to slip into that compartment on the door as it dropped from my pocket. I would have never found it anywhere else. Thank you, Thank You, Thank You!”

In the multitude of my anxieties within me, Your comforts delight my soul. Psalm 94:19

 The little camera case where I found it in the

   truck's left door compartment. The camera's

digital photos coupled with informative captions

have been invaluable record sources of our

small cow/calf operation.

128 Years Ago Today

Calvin Callcayah Smith 

A Photograph Shared Digitally
by Alan Yarborough from his
grandmother, Elizabeth Purcell
Hammer's collection. His
grandmother and my mother,
Bernyce Smith Gates, were
cousins. The photo was labeled
"Calvin in his WWI Uniform."

128 years ago today, on March 13, 1894, my maternal grandpa was born in the Hickory Grove community in Delaware District in the Cherokee Nation. The state of Oklahoma did not exist. Instead, the land that would become Oklahoma was divided into Oklahoma Territory and Indian Territory. The Cherokee Nation was in Indian Territory.

                His father, Walter Smith gave his second son, my grandpa, the name Cul-lah-ca* after his father, a Cherokee Trail of Tears survivor. Cul-lah-ca was his name listed on the Drennan Roll of 1851, a record of those of Cherokee Descent living in the Cherokee Nation. In 1851, Cul-lah-ca, my great-great grandfather, was 18 years old. When he was around the age of five to six years old, he walked the Trail of Tears with his widowed mother and younger brother from their home in Georgia.  Cul-lah-ca would have been 61 years old at the time of Grandpa’s birth but had died in the Civil War in 1862 before reaching the age of 30, according to family records.

                My grandfather valued education and loved learning. Of the four adults in our home, he persisted in stressing the need for me to go to a teachers’ college. Ironically, he only attended formal schooling to the fourth grade, saying he dropped out because he was needed to work. Yet so many times he and my grandmother were friends of the schoolteachers of the Bend. He valued intelligent people and enjoyed conversation about ideas and philosophy with them.

                Grandpa married my grandma, a creative workaholic. Grandpa was heard once to tell her, when in his 70s, that sometimes he just liked to sit. Grandma, a visionary, frequently had a “project” on her “drawing board.” The Depression didn’t squelch her creativity. My mother heard him say, with a bit of exasperation in his voice, “You want me to make something from nothing!” Not only did they do projects together but farmed and gardened together.

                My mother, the only child of my maternal grandparents, attested her “daddy” was a doting father. However, she recently recalled that as an adolescent she wanted to do something, and Grandma had denied her request. Mother and Grandpa spoke very little to each other, but she gathered courage and approached him with her desire. Grandpa asked her what her mother said. When she replied, her responded, “You better do what she tells you to do.” Despite his laidback, permissive manner, Mother learned her parents were in solidarity for her good.

One of my favorite photos of my mother** and her father. It shows her in her

terrible twos and his determination to restrain her from getting down (even though

he was considered permissive). L-R: Leo Rainey, Grandpa holding Mother,

Johnie Rainey, and Lewis Rainey. Lewis was Grandpa's brother-in-law and the boys

were his nephews. This photo from Grandma's album first appeared in:

https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2017/10/the-90th-year-of-belford-bridge.html

                Finally, Grandpa set a stellar example for the best practice for preparing to teach, especially to teach God’s word. The man, with only a fourth-grade education, following Sunday lunch, retired to his chair in the living room with his trusted red pencil in hand with his Bible and Sunday School teacher’s commentary and begin preparing for the next Sunday’s lesson. He spent time daily preparing to teach his men’s Sunday School class.

                In my memory, I hear the faithful prayers that he prayed for “the girls” and know God is continuing to answer those prayers for my sister, and me. The Bible indicates in heaven are golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints (Revelation 5:8).

Only when I reached adulthood did I realize that Grandpa was in his mid-30s before he embraced the forgiveness Jesus offers to those who come to Him. What a difference his commitment to Jesus made in my life!

May each of us strive to make an impact on the lives who are in our sphere of influence. We can start as Grandpa did with prayer for them and then model a life worth emulating when we obey Jesus daily. 

*Grandpa’s legal name was spelled Callcayah since that was how it appeared on the Dawes Roll of Original Cherokee Allottees. When I visited with Ruben Hopper who grew up with Grandpa in Eastern Oklahoma, he often referred to Grandpa as Cul-lah-ca or Cul.

**This is the earliest photograph we have of my mother. 

Other Blog Postings about Grandpa, Calvin Callcayah Smith
The Legacy - https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/03/the-legacy.html

The Spanish Flu Pandemic of 1918 - https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/11/the-spanish-flu-pandemic-of-1918.html

Post that Explains How Grandpa Came to Osage County - https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2015/01/did-warmest-january-in-oklahoma-during.html

The Ford and the Flood - https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2016/08/the-ford-and-flood.html

School Shopping in 1932 - https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2019/08/school-shopping-in-1932.html

Tobacco, Tents, and Thieving in the Thirties - https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2017/03/tobacco-tents-and-thieving-in-thirties.html

Grandpa Could Pull 'Em In Right and Left  - https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2016/03/grandpa-could-pull-em-in-right-and-left.html

The Need I Didn't Know I Had

              The morning dawned on a spring-like winter day. I considered a spring-like winter day a gift, an opportunity to prepare. So often during this winter season bitterly cold, harsh and truly wintery days followed on the heels of the boon of the spring-like winter day.

            Having fed the cats, I noticed a screen door slightly ajar to the old freezer room. Normally, I would never have spotted this partly open door. With blowing snow and frigidly cold temperatures approaching, that door needed to be secured. It appeared a slight adjustment was needed on the latch. Prayerfully, I chalked this up as an early morning blessing.

The latch catch that
 needed an adjustment.

            I mentally made note of the need to locate a hammer and alter the latch catch to secure the door before the spring-like winter day ended. Then the second blessing occurred. As I entered the enclosed back porch, I noticed Dad’s old red hammer lying clearly in my view. (A picture of the vintage hammer can be seen at:   https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2021/01/dads-old-hammer.html )

Something on that spring-like winter day propelled me to pick up the vintage hammer and with a few strategic taps the screen door catch was back in service, holding the door closed just hours before the winter storm was scheduled to hit. I could hardly believe the blessing just minutes after awakening with a slight depression hanging over me.

David was inspired to write in Psalm 34:17 – The righteous cry out and the Lord hears, and delivers them out of all their troubles. But I had not cried out to Him. I had just briefly prayed earlier that morning, “Lord, I need You.

David also wrote under the inspiration of God’s Spirit in Psalm 40:1 these words. I waited patiently for the Lord; and He inclined to me, and heard my cry. Yet again I had not “cried” to the Lord so had no “waiting” on the Lord.

I did not know the need I had, but God did. The phrase spoken by Jesus in Matthew 6:8 affirms this. He said, For your Father knows the things you have need of before you ask Him. 

Moses, under the inspiration of God, penned these words, And the Lord, He is the One who goes before you. He will be with you, He will not leave you nor forsake you; do not fear nor be dismayed. The scripture from Deuteronomy 31:8 so aptly described my situation that morning. God had gone before me. His presence and blessings that morning pointed me to the path away from dismay or anxiety. 

An awareness of His presence always refocuses us on Him and His promise to never leave or forsake us. In our unpredictable world, I cannot think of a better promise to redirect my thoughts.