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.