My Dad's Connection With Hurricane Irma

             My father, Edmund Gates, Jr., always had a way of identifying personally with a news event. With so many news stories, either he had been at the location or knew someone who had. This came to mind on Sunday, September 10, 2017, when Hurricane Irma was making landfall in Florida. I knew Dad would have had interesting, colorful commentary about the news reports as the ferocious hurricane hit the Floridian peninsula.

A photograph of my father "during a
convalescent leave in Miami Beach and
St. Petersburg, Florida from
mid-June through September 1944."
My mother had written this on the 
back of the portrait.

             Dad had been assigned to Miami, Florida, following his initial furlough upon his return from England after completing his required 25-combat missions with a B-17 Flying Fortress crew. He spent the time with his family in the Big Bend community. Here is a brief account of his time in Florida as written in his military memoir, Okie Over Europe.

                   Edmund had a “21-day delay in route.” This term meant that he was given a twenty-one-day furlough. He was scheduled to be in Miami Beach, Florida, on June 16, 1944. Edmund chose to stay in Oklahoma until June 17th. He wanted to be able to celebrate his father’s birthday on June 16th. This would be the first time in two years they would have a dual celebration of birthdays since Edmund’s birthday had been on June 15th. Edmund wistfully remembered that until 1935, Edmund, his father, and his younger brother, Fredrick, had celebrated their birthdays together. Fredrick had been born exactly on his father’s birthday, June 16th in 1921, and ironically, was struck by lightning and killed on his 16th birthday in 1935, just shortly after the family had enjoyed a dinner in honor of the three birthdays.

           His family took him to Ponca City to leave on the train the following day, June 17th, conspicuously a day later than he should have departed. By this time, a pontoon bridge was in place on Highway 60 east of Ponca City on the Arkansas River instead of the ferryboat that Edmund had taken to return home. (A flood had taken out the bridge over the Arkansas River on Highway 60.)

             Upon arriving at Miami Beach, Edmund’s captain reprimanded him for his late arrival. The captain also loudly threatened demotion. In Edmund’s mind, a blustery captain was nothing in comparison to fighting the Germans in the skies over Europe. 

               Edmund stayed in Miami Beach, Florida, at the Lord Tarleton Hotel on the twelfth floor for ten or twelve days. The hotel expense was covered by the military. Edmund was required to pay for his meals. Few soldiers were returning at that time from the war. He speculated that he was assigned to this furlough by the Air Force in an effort to assist him in working through the stress of combat. His time in Miami Beach was spent entirely in recreational activities. There were very few other military personnel in this location. Edmund spent much of his time on the beach swimming and riding the waves. Occasionally he splurged for a sixty-five-cent drink downtown.

             Edmund was sent from Miami Beach to St. Petersburg, Florida. While at St. Petersburg, Edmund was injected in his arm with a substance that he referred to as “truth serum.” While under its influence, he was questioned by a doctor on topics ranging from family experiences to combat happenings. Some soldiers were discharged at this point. Edmund felt his mental, physical, and emotional health were being evaluated to ascertain if he was capable to continue serving in the Army Air Force. He cannot prove this supposition since all his military records were destroyed in a fire in the 1970s.

             In his leisure time at St. Petersburg, Edmund met a civilian couple from Chicago. The friendly pair encouraged Edmund and three or four other soldiers to use their fishing tackle. He fished off the dock in the Gulf of Mexico daily.

         Edmund lodged in a large building of perhaps four or five floors furnished by the military. This building, however, was not technically a hotel, even though Edmund has in his collection of memorabilia a card from Dorothy Rabo, his pilot’s wife, addressed to Don CeSar Hotel. This illustrious hotel on the beach was built in 1928 but had fallen into disrepair and was purchased by the United States Army for only its assessed value. It was converted into the convalescent center where Edmund stayed for around thirty days. This building has since been listed on the National Register of Historic Places and restored to its earlier grandeur. (Here is a link to the hotel as it is in 2017 - http://www.doncesar.com/ ) 

Photo of Don Cesar from its website.

              As I have reread his account and discussed with Mother, she recalled that he wistfully mentioned in his letters to her what a nice time a married couple would have in St. Petersburg. Even at 92, with her killer wit, she quipped, "I didn't take the hint." As a nineteen-year-old, she had made it plain to him - no marriage until the military was behind him.

                Yet as I viewed the devastation as the result of Hurricane Irma’s force, I kept recalling the warnings issued over a week ago. The cautionary warnings, then encouragement to evacuate, and finally, the mandatory evacuations were given repeatedly, but some did not heed.

                Several Bible verses of warning passed through my mind.

"But I tell you that every careless word that people speak, 

they shall give an accounting for it in the day of judgment. 

"For by your words you will be justified, 

and by your words you will be condemned." Matthew 12:36-37

For this reason we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard,

so that we do not drift away from it. Hebrews 12:1

And He said, "See to it that you are not misled; 

for many will come in My name, saying, 'I am He,' and, 'The time is near ' 

Do not go after them.” Luke 21:8

Lord, may we never be unwise, refusing to take heed to your commands and warnings in our spiritual lives. Enable us to be bold and strong in obeying Your Word promptly and completely, so we can positively affect our family and friends.               

The Cardboard Coffin

The Little Cardboard Coffin

                We have only outside cats here on the farm. One of the “wild” tabbies had two kittens. She sheltered them under an old spare tire. The second morning after I had discovered the new mama cat and her teeny, tiny kittens, to my astonishment, Wild Tabby approached the back-porch stoop with a rigid, miniature version of her in her mouth. She got closer to me than she had ever gotten and promptly placed the dead kitten as near to me as she dared. It was almost as if she felt compelled to make me aware of her loss even though she didn’t feel comfortable so near to a human.

                Late in the afternoon, she timidly moved into my proximity as I gathered fresh-smelling, clean laundry from the clothesline. I had to find a way to connect with her. Zipping into the house, I grabbed a small bag of treats and miraculously, despite the other aggressive, but extremely tame, felines, I gave the grieving Wild Tabby some treats for the first time. She seemed to understand I had singled her out from the other cats, noticing her, and trying to let her know that I cared about her loss.

The Little Cardboard Coffin for the
Wild Tabby Cat's Kitten

                As I watched her eat that morning, I thought how many times grieving humans come extremely close to us, perhaps subconsciously, seeking comfort from the God of all comfort, sensing that we should be a conduit of that consolation. Do we reach out in compassion or brush past the person barely recognizing his or her presence, instead choosing to remain self-absorbed in our own concerns?

                I recall hearing a comment of a grieving parent of a Sandy Hook first grade victim of violence. The parent, who experienced the loss over four years ago, from which they will never find “closure,” indicated the most egregious action occurs when people appear to ignore the cold-blooded murder of their little girl by saying nothing.

              Just the mention of a sweet memory of the deceased or the reminder that you continue to think of the grief-stricken family, as they live life dealing with their crushing loss, can express “You are not alone. Neither has your loved one been forgotten.” 

Labor Day at the 101 Ranch and Family Connections

In my lifetime, Labor Day has always been associated with the Ralston Labor Day Celebration. The three-day event transforms Ralston, Oklahoma, annually into a bustling metropolis for the first weekend in September.

As I have listened and investigated some family stories, I have discovered, in the late 1920s and into the early 1930s, the must-attend Labor Day soiree took place near Marland, Oklahoma. The 101 Ranch, owned by the Miller family, during this time in Noble (at its zenith, the ranch stretched into Kay, Osage, and Pawnee Counties, too) County history, hosted the ranch round-up beginning in 1904. Then the Miller family initiated the renowned Terrapin Derby in 1924.

Two uncles of my mother, Bernyce Smith Gates, were Uncle Ernest and Uncle Lewis. Her uncles only referred to each other by the last name. Rice was married to her mother’s sister, Daisy Dean Rainey Rice. Rainey was the older brother of her mother, Gladys Vivian Rainey Smith. These men had an interesting link to that colorful 101 Ranch era.

Virgil Rice related to his son, Rick, of how his father, Ernest E. Rice, and his uncle, Lewis R. Rainey, forded the Arkansas River on the northwest side of the Big Bend to get to 101 Ranch located near Marland, Oklahoma. Crossing the Arkansas River this way reduced the travel time by half. Rick, in his own words, related his father’s recollection of fording the Arkansas River in the west Bend:

It's hard to believe that Grandpa and others

 would cross the river and go places like it was no big deal.

Dad always told of Grandpa taking his Case steam engine and threshing machine and

crossing back in the Bend and threshing wheat for people on the Noble County side.

They would lay timbers down where they needed and build up a head of steam and go across.

Rick Rice enjoying a local history book.

 Rick’s dad remembered lamenting, when as a little boy, being told he was too little to go with his father and his uncle that Labor Day. The men went to the 101 Ranch to enter the terrapin derby. Even the lower place winners afforded people more money than a man could earn in a year during this Great Depression Era. Ernest Rice, taking one of the lower place wins, created a buzz in the whole family living in the Bend. His purse of over $100 would be about $1500 in 2017 (https://www.dollartimes.com/inflation/inflation.php?amount=100&year=1931).

Ron Bledsoe, the oldest grandchild of my paternal grandparents, shared that Old Mix was one of his favorite horses owned by our grandpa, Edmund Gates, Sr. Ron related that Old Mix had been acquired when devastating financial events required the liquidation of the 101 Ranch livestock at an auction. Valuable animals were acquired for a fraction of their true worth.

Old Mix with Mary Beth Bledsoe,
Ron Bledsoe, Mamie Marie Gates,
Marilyn Roberts

Here in his own words, as he viewed the photograph to the left, Ron reminisces about Old Mix:

The horse (in the photograph) is probably old Mix who was really a jewel.

He had been a 101 Ranch horse and was very gentle.

Grandpa sold him and bought “Bingo” who was flat out crazy.

He would run off with Jim and Herb.

Once he ran off and dumped Marion on some rocks by the old windmill.

Mom was always mad at Grandpa for selling Mix.

The final connection with the 101 Ranch involved the occupants of the small house located just south of the Rainey home in the Bend on the farm owned by Rosa Rainey. Alice and Gene Rainey, her daughter and son, lived with her. Alice, my mother’s aunt, was visually impaired but never allowed it to interfere with her cooking and farm work. Gene, my mother’s uncle, battled depression the latter part of his life, yet maintained a successful herd of milking cows much of the time. The matriarch of the Rainey family, Rosa Rainey, my mother's beloved maternal grandma, seemed to rise to the challenges of life with an indomitable spirit.

                During the 1950s, Almerine and Bertie (Research revealed her given name being spelled five different ways.) Hamilton lived in the small house south of Rosa Rainey’s house. Gene, Raucie, Billie Jean, and Marilyn Rainey had been its last occupants.

                Almerine and Bertie met when both were employed by the Miller family. Almerine served as a butler to the family. Bertie cared for Little Zack Miller and his sister in the role of a nanny. The 101 Ranch in Louisiana was situated in Catahoula Parish which bordered Tensas Parish where Bertie had been born. The divorce of the parents of the Miller children was granted when the children were around the age of ten and nine, respectively, with their father, Zack Miller, Sr., getting custody of them. School records seem to indicate the children moved with their father to Kay County, Oklahoma.

                One day when visiting her grandma, Rosa Rainey, my mother recalled a fancy car pulling up to Almerine and Bertie’s tiny house. Mother peeked through the window curtains after she was told Little Zack Miller had come to see Bertie. Even after these many years, Mother still remembered what affection Bertie Hamilton and Young Zack Miller had for one another.

                Bertie, a woman of great faith, yet with physical limitations, created a stunning quilt to illustrate truths from the Bible. Mother recounted how she vividly depicted hell as the scripture described it.

                Sadly, I never met Bertie but did meet Mr. Hamilton, as I was taught to refer to him. He was a trusted overseer in the field during cotton picking season. Even as a preschooler, I knew my parents and grandparents valued Mr. Hamilton’s integrity, diligence, and work ethic. Ironically, in my recent research, I discovered his mother had been a slave.

                After Bertie’s death due to a gas range explosion, Mr. Hamilton remarried and moved to Pawnee, Oklahoma. Finally, he conquered the alcohol addiction that had dogged him in earlier years. He and his new wife centered their life together on their faith and service in their church.

                Sometimes I would return from school to find the Hamiltons engaged in lively conversation with my grandparents before they went fishing in one of the farm ponds. The stately gentleman whom I had known all my life and his wife always expressed genuine interest in the latest happenings with my sister, Angie, and me.

                Many people we have never met make up portions of the mosaic of our lives. For Rick Rice, the stories of his grandfather, Ernest, who died prior to his birth, impact his drive to work the land. Rick’s commitment to care for its natural resources emulate the standards of stewardship modeled by a revered ancestor he never got to meet.

                Bertie Hamilton, a strong woman who faced hardships, solidly had her faith in Jesus, the one who never failed her. Her persistency to pray for her husband even though she never saw her prayer answered in her lifetime encourages me to model that same perseverance.

Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that 

they should always pray and not give up. Luke 18:1 NIV

(The entire parable is in Luke 18:1-8)

Additional Notes: Rick Rice sent a video from the Oklahoma Historical Society of the 1931 event. The link is:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pae6r6MF0fo&sns=em

My mother, Bernyce Smith Gates, attended an event at the 101 Ranch as a child. The only thing that impressed her was the bear that drank pop!