Jake's Indomitable Spirit

This article, inspired by Jake Marsh, first appeared in the winter 2010 issue of Teachers of Vision. The month of May is Cystic Fibrosis Awareness Month. I hope Jake's indomitable spirit serves as an impetus to motivate readers to a heightened awareness of Cystic Fibrosis. 

An Unlikely Role Model

            On a Thursday morning, just a little after 7 a.m., I stood at my desk in my school classroom. I was overwhelmed. The hectic week had been filled with numerous conferences with my student teacher, preparation for that evening’s parent/teacher conferences, completion of that quarter’s report cards, and to top it off – no computer access thus making impossible the completion of most of my work. For some reason I had also battled a severe headache. As a teacher who likes to be a step ahead, that morning I was feeling several miles behind where I thought I should have been.

            As I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, I glanced down at an assignment that had been handed in the previous day. It was in Braille but had the written translation on it. One sentence instantly leaped off the page at me.  It said, “I am living a great life.” My inner complaints were crushed into bits. This statement had been written by a visually-impaired student who also grappled with cystic fibrosis, which often caused him to struggle throughout the day with convulsive coughing. Yet he quite pleasantly wrote another sentence on down the page, “I am having a great life.” 

            I could attend motivational conferences guaranteeing life-altering changes in my outlook on teaching. Educational books and periodical articles with catchy titles entice battle-worn teachers with miraculous solutions to the difficulties encountered and a cure for their own burnout. This delightful child who lost his sight as an infant due to a medical error inspires me more than the most well-educated, polished presenter or highly acclaimed author.  This courageous student daily lives his life with an optimism and positivity that compels me to retain an attitude and determination that rises above the defeating circumstances of the toughest times. He’s my role model and definitely one deserving of daily emulation.

Jake's class of third graders provided daily support for him. We all benefited from
his humor, insight, and cheerful attitude in our classroom. Memories we made that
year are a joy to recall and will forever be cherished.

An Example of Humility and Excellence

Remembering Virgil Noel Rice

                Virgil Noel Rice was born in the Big Bend community, west of Ralston, on May 8, 1927. He arrived as the fifth child born to Daisy Dean Rainey and Ernest Emel Rice and the youngest of the three sons.

                My mother, Bernyce Smith Gates, developed quickly a closeness to Virgil. Less than three years separated Mother and Virgil. No other of her cousins on her mother’s side was closer in age than she and Virgil.

                Mother enjoyed many hours of visiting at his family’s home near the Arkansas River in the Bend.  They both had quiet, gentle natures so understood each other quite well.

Virgil in the
1934 Belford
school group
photo.

                Virgil always excelled at his school studies. He attended Belford Grade School with her. Virgil, as a responsible, mature upperclassman, drove the school bus to transport Big Bend scholars to Burbank High School. My mother had already graduated from high school but was working a temporary job at the bank in Burbank so she rode the bus from her home in the Bend. Move over Uber!

His aspirations to attend Oklahoma A & M College in Stillwater were about to become a reality. Then his father, Ernest Rice, died of cancer at age 60. Virgil’s sense of responsibility to his mother caused him to cancel his plans for college. Instead, he assumed the role of his father and began farming fulltime.

On a lighter note, according to my mother, Leon Lynn and Virgil were great friends. In their early twenties, they purchased convertibles alike. Virgil always drove well-kept vehicles. 

Virgil’s studious nature became evident in his walk with the Lord as he grew into a man who daily studied his Bible. Soon his knowledge became obvious to others, and he was asked to teach Bible classes in the church. A humble man, he never saw his giftedness for teaching the Bible that enabled others to learn, but many who sat under his teaching benefited from the daily cultivation of his relationship with Jesus.

Mother had preserved a couple of photographs from the publication For Land’s Sake. The newspaper dealt specifically with conservation in farming and ranching. In 1966, Virgil began his commitment to conservation of natural resources, which are so important to the farmer. He earned many recognitions from the county chapter as well as at the state level.  He was a pioneer in understanding that the resources given by God require diligent stewardship. 

Helen and Virgil Rice after he received
the Chevron Conservation Tillage Award
in 1987. Helen and Virgil were married
over 50 years. They were a terrific team.

            Virgil had a very generous heart. My first realization of his generosity occurred when I was a preschooler, and my family was hurriedly erecting a house on land bought by my parents a couple of years earlier. When the landowner wanted to move to the land my family leased, preparation began in earnest and at rapid velocity. Virgil took one of his trucks to Oklahoma City. He knew his way around the city and showed my parents and grandparents places to get lumber, plumbing supplies, fixtures of all sorts, and other building essentials. They purchased what was needed, and he transported it back to the Bend.

Innumerable young people and children attended summer church camp thanks to anonymous gifts given each year by Virgil. One could count on him to donate liberally, but silently, to any effort in our church.

Virgil not only gave monetarily to the work of the Lord, but more importantly, of his time. Each Saturday for many years, he contacted kids for his church bus route. He then drove the Ralston Baptist Church’s bus on Sunday morning to provide a ride for a busload of children and youth. Only heaven will reveal the lives impacted by his visits.

The Ralston Baptist Church Bus Team of the 1980s. Counterclockwise: Virgil
Rice, Sharon Stewart, Gayle Reynard, Kendall Richardson, Bob Bradley. 

I recall at his funeral that his niece, Vickie Joy Rice Cabell, delivered a short impromptu eulogy as to his loving and tender care of Aunt Emma. Virgil checked daily on his mother’s youngest sister, Emma Rainey Buckley, who lived alone, even though she was in her 90s. He delivered groceries, took her mail to her, and brightened her day even though he had a full sun-up to sundown day ahead of him. (Virgil was blessed to have his daughter-in-law, Barbara Chapman Rice, lovingly care for him, allowing him to spend his final days in the comfort of his home surrounded by those he loved.) 

When Virgil received his diagnosis of malignant cancer, my mother began to pray in faith, believing he would experience healing. It was devastating to her when his health continued to decline. Her consternation continued at his death. Why would he be taken when he was working fervently to tell people about Jesus and His gift of forgiveness for them? Eventually, Mother had to accept that God had a plan greater than what she could see. Virgil’s life continues to stand as a model of caring for God’s creation and sharing with people, in as many ways possible, with his words and actions, how they could have a full life here on earth through Jesus and spend the afterlife in His presence.

One of my favorite photos of Virgil and his only son, Rick.I took this at the
adult Valentine banquet at Ralston Baptist Church on February 13, 1993.

When Grandpa and Grandma Got a Parrot Instead of Rent

My Mother's Adventures with Polly Parrot

                My grandparents, Calvin and Gladys Smith, furnished lodging for two brothers who were working for them. At that time, my mother and her parents lived in the little house that was the first home my mother remembers. (The aforementioned house was featured in the blog post entitled Miracles at the Little House and was posted on July 20, 2015.) In lieu of rent, Grandpa and Grandma accepted a parrot in payment! To make matters worse, Grandma discovered that every evening the talking parrot would call repeatedly the name, “Willa Dean” causing my grandmother to suspect that she had taken stolen property for the delinquent rent.

                Grandma was a working mother. Grandpa drove the team of horses while Grandma rode the cultivator. Before Grandma left for the field, she always put on her meal of pork to cook. That took care of lunch preparation.

                Childcare for my mother, Bernyce was imperative. Grandpa fixed a little seat for my mother to ride on the cultivator. What resourceful parents she had!

                The same cultivator was stolen and later located around Skiatook. My grandparents could easily identify it. Even though the thieves cut off Mother’s little custom-made seat, they could not disguise where Grandpa had originally attached it.

                One day while in the field, they heard the cry, “Fire! Fire!” Grandpa reverted to his days playing baseball and ran to the house as though he was rounding the bases during a game. There was Polly, the parrot, perched atop their house watching the smoke come out of the chimney. When Grandpa could see the house was not burning, but Grandma's dinner preparation produced the smoke, he reacted angrily, “That nasty parrot!”

                One evening  Grandpa, Grandma, and my mother returned home to hear laughter. It sounded just like Aunt Pearl Rainey’s cheerful, high-pitched laugh. As Grandma searched through the house, she began saying, “Now Pearl come out. I know you’re here.”

                However, Aunt Pearl was not there. No one else was there, except Polly, the parrot. Sure enough, it was Polly laughing exactly like Aunt Pearl!

                On another occasion, my grandpa was trying to get the team of horses into their harness so he could work in the field. Polly Parrot begin saying, “Yee! Yee!”  Immediately the horses reacted to the shrill command, lurching back into the pasture. My normally easy-going grandpa retorted, “That nasty parrot!”

                My mother’s maternal grandma, Rosa Jarrell Rainey, came often to visit at Mother’s home. When she bid good-bye to Mother and her parents, Polly imitated their farewells with her own mimicry of theirs by calling, “Good-bye, Grandma! Good-bye, Grandma!”

Another day when her grandmother came, Mother was sitting in her highchair with Polly, the parrot, perched on the back of the highchair. Polly leaned down to gently “kiss” Mother. Her grandma reacted in fear and impulsively grabbed Polly’s back in an effort to protect her little granddaughter. Polly’s beak instinctively ripped a deep gash in Grandma Rainey’s hand. Up to this point, Polly had never harmed Mother or her parents. Even as young as Mother was, she knew to offer Polly her finger for a perch and never grab her.

Soon Mother’s parents sold Polly. In retrospect, Mother has always insisted Polly did nothing wrong. She has often wondered what happened to Polly since parrots naturally have a long life span. As an only child, Mother bonded with Polly to such an extent that she still recalls how she missed that lively, smart, avian imitator even though their adventures occurred over 85 years ago.

Bernyce Smith Gates, my mother, and her grandma, Rosa Jarrell Rainey.