Sunday, October 16, 2022

A Merry Heart at 98

I am indebted to my sister, Angie, for some proofreading and editing on this blog about Mother. Angie does some of this every weekend before she posts this on her Facebook page. This is only one of the 1,001 ways she helps me on a regular basis.

If the Lord grants Mother life until October 17, 2022, she will celebrate her 98th birthday. We thank Him for that. She still likes to laugh. Sometimes I tell her unfortunately she lives with the more serious daughter (I am trying to learn to lighten up). Many times over the years she has quoted these verses from Proverbs 17:22b and Proverbs 15:13a:
A merry heart does good like a medicine…

A merry heart makes a cheerful countenance...

Here are a few memories that provide a glimpse into Mom's character.

Matter-of-Fact but Funny Preschooler
One day the two Herring boys, neighbors of Mother’s family, and their little sidekick, my mother, were busy exploring on the Oliver Morton place. The two older boys yelled, “It’s a snake!” The boys spotted the snake’s head emerging from one of their father’s knee pads. Erma, the mother of Wayne and Jack, heard the commotion. She rushed out to investigate, arriving just in time to see little Bernyce leaning over the reptile and responding in a matter-of-fact voice, “It’s just an old tuddle.” Wayne and Jack had misjudged the shell of the turtle for one of their father’s knee pads used when harvesting cotton, but not calm little Bernyce; she was fearless.

Mother, Wayne and Jack Herring
in front of the barn on the Oliver 
Morton place. Lisa White Crabtree
is a Bender who descends from
Oliver Morton. Our neighbor to
the south, Betty Hutchison and 
her siblings are cousins of the 
Herring boys.
The Five-Year Old at the Tulsa State Fair
Recently, Mother and I laughed at her running unaccompanied literally all over the Tulsa State Fair. She insisted she was a preschooler. Sure enough, my grandparents were operating the Belford Booth that had won at the Osage County Fair in 1930. Mother was only 5 years old (almost 6) and had never gone to school. Any time she got a nickel or dime, she was at the midway. At almost age 98, she insisted again, she would have been a Dizzy Lizzy if she would have had a Mega Ride Pass! Let's just say it was a different day, and Mom followed the directions from adult strangers if she got lost. She said she would just ask where the building with the booths were and off she would go.

The Daredevil Might Have Made It on a Bomber Crew

Mother and Dad had their first "date" when she agreed to meet him at the carnival of the Osage County Fair in Pawhuska. She was still in high school. He was five years older than she and was already out of school. Dad arrived late. That didn't stop Mother because she loved amusement rides. Since she had time on her hands, she rode with several other guys who asked her to ride. In one sense, that was just fine with Dad. Even though he would later fly twenty-five missions over enemy territory in Europe, he wasn't as wild about amusement rides as Mother.

She Did What in the Bank?
Mother worked in a temporary capacity at the First National Bank in Burbank, Oklahoma. She was filling in for the bank president’s wife while she went to be with their daughter who was having a baby. The stream of customers slowed, and she had caught up all responsibilities she had been assigned. Because she preferred busyness to idleness, Mother began “tidying up” the bank, including dusting the gun case and the guns kept in it! She carefully handled each firearm not concerned that she was violating some policy of "hands off", but merely seeing what needed to be done and doing it. Despite her unusual use of her time while on the clock at the bank, Mother was offered a permanent position at the bank, but instead chose to marry Dad in 1948.

We Had a Good Time
Mother recounts frequently what good young people she and Dad taught at Masham Baptist Church. Usually, she taught the girls’ class with Dad teaching the young men as he often referred to them as. But some of their best memories were the get togethers they had and the silly, fun games they played. Mother still laughs that since she was still in her 20s, she could outrun all the youth, even the boys, when the weather allowed outdoor activities. Most of all she cherishes the faith she saw flourish and remain strong in so many. 
Larry Mitchell, Mother laughing 
heartily, Janice Wolfe, Nancy LeForce,
and unidentified girl.

But Mother does have a serious side and is not a risk taker about important issues. When Thelma Johnson moved to the Bend, she found a friend in Mother, even though she was a bit older than Thelma. The last time I visited with Thelma she told me what a genuine friend Mother was to her when she moved into the Bend.

        Shortly before the Johnson family move to the Bend, Mother courageously professed publicly her faith in Jesus. She was 18 years old. Mother chose to take a stand for Jesus no matter what her friends thought and sometimes found she was the only one not going to certain activities. She remembered being so concerned about Thelma's spiritual condition that she may have bordered on being “pushy.” I can attest now in their 90s, Thelma and J.D. Frank, her husband, who Mother has known longer than Thelma, rely on their strong faith in Jesus. These three Benders share joyfully how meaningful their daily walk with Jesus has been for them.

        Christians ought to be happy people, as Dad liked to say. Mother, even as she approaches 98, believes we should tell everyone that only Jesus gives purpose, contentment, and comfort. Here is a warning from Jesus and His wonderful promise:
The thief (Satan) comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.

Sunday, October 9, 2022

Work-Brickle But Kind

           
October 5 marked the seventh year since Dad's death. This week, a cousin mentioned what a kind man Dad was. Yet he was so work-brickle, meaning he didn't have a lazy particle in his being. How did he come to be like that? 
            Even though my father, Edmund Gates, Jr., found Mr. Rippee a “fascinating” teacher, when he was around 10 years old, he began loafing instead of studying in school. Mr. Rippee, Dad's teacher at the Woodland School in the Bend, visited with Grandpa. My grandfather, Edmund, Sr. told Mr. Rippee, “Just let me keep him out of school a week to help me clear walnut trees.”

Dad was
about  this
age when
he helped 
clear the
walnut 
trees.
            My father explained the process this way. He and my grandfather dug down around each of the tree stumps about a foot and a half, with both using a shovel. This allowed a place wide enough to maneuver a crosscut saw effectively. Then Dad and his father each got on one end of the crosscut saw and began pushing and pulling. Some of the walnut trees had trunks with 10-inch diameters. Needless to say, Dad slept well each night, but because of work of that nature, he exhibited unparalleled strength for his small size well into his 90s.
            The tough, work-brickle young man transported his sister Martha on horseback to her eighth-grade graduation in a flooded deluge of rain when a buggy would have gotten stuck. Later Dad said how sorry he felt for Martha trying to navigate in her pretty new dress such muddy areas on her special day. Sensitivity for others emerged so often in Dad.
            In the late 1930s, Grandpa was convinced by Bill McFadden, a Fairfax mechanic and the father of Helen McFadden Buxton, to buy the family’s first motorized vehicle, a used 1937 green International pickup truck. The upgrade made sense because it took Grandpa half of a day to get to Fairfax in his wagon or buggy and then the rest of the day to make the 14-mile-trek back to the farm in the northwest of the Bend.
            Dad had to step up to the challenge when Chuck Shell, the brother-in-law of Bill McFadden, drove them to the hill north of the Fairfax Cemetery. Chuck's driver's training for Dad consisted of a brief instruction to my father who had never driven a motor vehicle in his life! Nevertheless, Chuck, only two years older than Dad, coached him by saying, "Edmund, drive in the middle of the road. If you see someone coming, get over so they can pass." With that ultra-condensed version of drivers' ed, Grandpa and Dad headed west on the dirt road. Fortunately, Dad recalled few cars were on the "trail" that day.

Martha, Dad's sister, in front of the only family
vehicle - the '37 International Pickup.

              Dad's prerequisites to his inaugural driving excursion consisted of having ridden in the car driven by his maternal grandpa, Bob Black. Dad had watched closely from the back seat as his grandpa drove. Those experiences with his grandpa gave him a working knowledge of the clutch, the brake, the foot pedal, and the gear shift, but he had never been behind the wheel. Since Grandpa was profoundly hearing impaired, my father assumed the role of the family driver until he went to World War II.
               Dad had so many demands on him since he worked with his father seven days a week from childhood until his 16th birthday. After his brother’s death during the summer of 1935, his parents became Christians, and his father no longer worked on Sunday. From that point until my father volunteered for the Army Air Corps, he worked Monday-Saturday on the family farm.    
               Ironically, Dad is the only person I have heard described military basic training as a “vacation.” He said, “I had time to come in and just relax on my bunk.”
               Let’s revisit the initial question, How did Dad become “work-brickle and kind”? As simplistic as it may sound, most parents, in those days were preoccupied with trying to do their best for their children so their families could "get by" - not "get ahead" but just "eak by." Yet these people who survived the Great Depression with long days of backbreaking work retained a strong moral compass. It usually translated as treating others the way they wanted to be treated. They daily tried to live out the Golden Rule.
               A mutual respect for what one's neighbor had acquired, and the preciousness of human life undergirded most of our forbearers. A couple of foundational truths guided their lives. They believed God saw everything that a person did and that each human being would one day be held accountable for those actions. These two tenets drove community members to look out for the wellbeing of each other as taught in the Scriptures.

                       Let no man, then, set his own advantage as his objective, but rather the good of his neighbor.
                                                                                                                I Corinthians 10:24

             The dire economic situation demanded a strong work ethic from parents down to the youngest child that could do the smallest task. They internalized the truth of Paul’s command to the Thessalonian believers in the third chapter, verse 10.
For even when we were with you, we commanded you this: If anyone will not work, neither shall he eat.
             Finally, my mother believed my father inherited the calm, sensitive temperament of his mother, Mamie Irene Tripp Gates. Both my father and my maternal grandma could “shed tears” easily. So many times, I heard Dad say when he needed to discuss a sticky subject, he approached it “in a kind way.” Most importantly, he lived by these simple Bible verses:
Love suffers long and is kind; loves does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up. 
I Corinthians 13:4 
              And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.
                                                                                                                     Ephesians 4:32

Sunday, October 2, 2022

You'll Probably Never Have to Make One of Those Again

My sister spoke the title of this blog post to me upon my completion of the "clothespin bag." I guess the following sentence should be a spoiler alert. Upon my completion of the clothespin bag, my sister located a cute clothespin bag for sale online for about the cost of the fabric, but it wouldn’t have been as sturdy!
         Mother has an indoor clothes dryer; it's a wooden one. She isn’t “trying to save the planet” but maintains her reason for no electrical dryer boils down to room. It would involve a renovation of the utility room. At age 97, the chaos that goes with remodeling a room is not appealing. So, a clothespin bag is an essential component for clothesline use.
        Early this summer, the vintage clothespin bag crafted by my maternal grandma revealed its antiquity when the strap snapped apart as I threw it over my head. After finding a large safety pin and securing the strap once again, I hung the laundry on the clothesline.
        I avoided railing about the much-worn bag and the need to replace it. An internet search reveal no pattern that remotely resembled the one we were using. Pushing the need to replace it into the dark recesses of my memory, I purposely decided to make the old one work.
        Then one day I realized it must be replaced after the strap broke again. When a discussion ensued with Mother, she mentioned a pattern. I responded, “Well, where in the world would I find it?” She promptly described where to find it in her bedroom. I located a sack labeled “Pattern for clothespin bag” just as she directed me! Much to my chagrin, the pattern was the pieces of the deconstructed clothespin bag made around 60 years ago with no instructions!
        A few days later, in a moment of surging sewing confidence, I told Mother, “I think I can figure it out. I’ll just have Angie pick up some fabric for it.”
      Angie's search yielded fabric of the perfect weight, design, and reasonable price per yard. Of course, Mother found it an exorbitant price to which I piped up by reminding her of what Dad would say, “Honey, you’ve got to get up with the times!”
        Angie arrived with the material she had selected, but the step-by-step construction of it eluded me. I took the pattern. Persevering, I cut out the pieces for the new one.
        My dread of the task of sewing the new bag was embarrassing. I knew Angie was coming and would assume the day-to-day tasks. I tackled the job remembering Grandma always said, “The dread is the worst part of the job.”
        I began with the strap. Sewing it on the machine wasn’t too bad but turning the strap right-side out literally took about two hours. I persisted with minimal complaining. It looked pretty good for something that would only be seen at the clothesline.
        I stitched the rest tenaciously only to discover it looked terrific except for one small thing. I had attached the strap too low on the pin pouch itself.
        I refused to rip out my sewing to reattach the strap since this was not a garment to be worn in public. The clothespin bag simply had to hold clothespins. Upon studying the problem, I lengthened the strap by cutting it and splicing it together with an extension piece between the two severed ends. It worked, seemed strong, looked semi-professional, and was worthy to be out into service at the clothesline. 
Perhaps the Last Clothespin Bag I'll 
Ever Need to Make

        On my journey of creating most likely the last clothespin bag I’ll ever need to make, I found my uncertainty leading to procrastination. Solomon in the book of Ecclesiastes warned of this in chapter 11, verse 4:
    He who observes the wind will not sow, and he who regards the clouds will not reap.
The Message succinctly spells out the hazards of hesitation and delay in its interpretation of Ecclesiastes 11:3-4:
When the clouds are full of water, it rains. When the wind blows down the tree, it lies where it falls. Don’t set there watching the wind. Do your own work. Don’t stare at the clouds. Get on with your life.
        Postponement in creating a clothespin bag is inconsequential compared to hesitation in reaching out to loved ones and friends. Showing our love, sharing Jesus with others, and doing good when we can should never fall victim to our trivial delays.
The habit of always putting off an experience until you can afford it, or until the time is right, or until you know how to do it is one of the greatest burglars of joy. Be deliberate, but once you’ve made up your mind – jump in.”  Charles Swindoll