MIKE FOY correctly identified his old homeplace on the blog. This is what he wrote:

"Thanks for placing one of my favorite places and bountiful memories ever. A two bedroom house with an extremely small bathroom served my brother, mother and daddy well for twenty one years before I left for Lubbock and met my soulmate. The house used to have two large Juniper trees in front of the porch and I remember my dad on one particular night was sitting on the porch smoking a cigar and waiting on me to return from a location he was not aware of. I was famous for that, although not very bright of me. I was at the time in love with PEGGY VIRDEN. She and Barbara Gleghorn had gone to a revival at the First Baptist Church and PEGGY had asked me if I would meet her after the service and walk her back to Barbara's house. My father was not aware that I was out of the yard, much less six or seven blocks away waiting on my girlfriend to exit the church.

To bring you up to date on one little segment of this story, I was not the most studious classmate that exited Ballinger High School and my parents put a curfew, if you will, on me going somewhere on school nights. You guessed it, this particular night was a school night.

The revival lasted longer than I anticipated and I knew that I was going to be in deep trouble, just didn't know how bad. To make this a shorter story, when I did finally return my father was still on the front porch waiting for me to show up. I could hear him breathing hard as I passed through those Junipers and that was when the he came to life with some choice words and planted a number ten shoe right in the appropriate place to make an impression.

Lots of memories in that house on 9th Street. Even remember the phone number. (8191) Maybe someday I will tell you some stories about our hardware store that we had in the early 50s. Love your Blog.” ~ Mike Foy

The following was sent by CHARLES FIKES:

“I was thinking of something to help Irene in someway as she goes through some tough times. I thought of the following that happened just a couple of weeks ago.

My youngest granddaughter, Katelyn (four), was staying with her grandmother when the following happened. Grandmother was trying to get her CD player to work and was getting frustrated because it would not cooperate. Katelyn, seeing this, said to her Grandmother, ’Come and let's pray about it.’ They bowed their heads and Katelyn said the following prayer, ‘I wish I may I wish I might have this wish I wish tonight. Dear God, let Grandmother fix her CD player.’ Sure enough, Grandmother got the CD player to work shortly thereafter.

So, if God will answer a simple prayer from a four year old, surely he will answer ours and heal Irene. Our prayers will be with Irene during this difficult time.”~ Charles

TRAVELIN' MAN

TAIPEI, TAIWAN

GLENN SMITH RECENTLY SENT THE FOLLOWING:

“I got back last week from Taipei, Taiwan. I went to have two Chinese paintings evaluated by the staff at the National Palace Museum of Art in Taipei before having one of the large auction houses such as Sotheby’s or Christie’s sell them for me. The museum is said to have the largest holding of Chinese classical paintings in existence.

The two paintings were given to me fifteen years ago by a Chinese doctoral student who was in the States working on a degree in the department of which I was chairperson. He was desperate to get his four-year-old daughter to the States. His brother stood in line for 26 hours to get a visa for her, but was refused the visa and treated rudely by U.S. Embassy personnel. I called the ambassador in Beijing and his aide told me, ‘Oh, we didn't know anyone in the States was interested in this case.’ He gave specific instructions to be passed on to the brother in China. The brother followed the instructions and did not have to stand in line again. He got the visa in a few minutes and the little girl was on her way two days later.

The paintings I have are part of a few saved from destruction in 1968 when the Red Guard was rampaging through China getting rid of Confucian traditions. Out of 6,000+ art museums, it is said that 4,000+ were completely or partly destroyed. More than 100,000 works of art were burned or hammered to pieces. Some paintings made their ways to Taiwan where they now are in the National Palace Museum. Others may still be hidden in private collections in China elsewhere.

There is a wrinkle—or maybe only a potential one. MARILYN sent me a CNN clipping from a few days ago saying that the Chinese government is raising an uproar at Christie's auction house over the sale of two nineteenth century sculptures that were removed from the Summer Palace in Beijing in 1860 by British and French troops. The Chinese government demanded they be returned, but Christie's sold them in Paris for nearly $18 million each. A lot of outrage is being expressed at the moment in China about this. I sympathize with the government's position about art stolen by foreign troops. On the other hand, the paintings I have were not wanted by the government. I learned nothing new about my paintings from the National Palace Museum, but have written to Sotheby's in Hong Kong to see if they will auction them. I haven't heard back from them as of this moment.

I've been to Beijing and Shanghai previously, but it was my first time in Taiwan. I like Taipei. It's big and modern but not noisy for a city. Despite urban traffic, no horns honk, few sirens sound, and people are courteous and smile a lot. Prices are about the same as in Abilene. I stayed in a hostel (named Eight Elephants) with a number of friendly, hip acting, 18- to 35- year-olds. In restaurants and bars every young person has a camera or cell phone, mostly held at arm’s length for self portraits. Many people speak some English, and they are generous about translating in stores and on the sidewalk. A woman named Nina introduced herself at a coffee shop near the hostel. She called cabs for me, and helped me exchange money into New Taiwan Dollars (NT's). She has visited the pyramids, the Taj Mahal, Istanbul, and several other places. Her current goal is to go to Machu Picchu in Peru. I've been there a couple of times, so we talked travel when I stopped for a breakfast sandwich each morning.

The part of Asia that I saw looks prosperous. They say they feel the worldwide recession (depression?), but I saw no beggars and felt no threat of crime. Stores were clean, well lighted, and looked prosperous. 7/11 stores are ubiquitous. And Narita Airport in Tokyo sparkles and dazzles. Makes LAX look shabby by comparison. -- More to come.”…GLENN

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I've received some welcome news from WALTER and Diana (BHS '64) THOMAS. Remember, their son Greg had the rare Whipple surgery last fall. Here's what Diana had to say:

"We went to see Greg last weekend. He is taking chemo every two weeks, just to make sure they have killed all the cancer. The chemo will be over sometime in April. He seems to be doing alright with the treatments. He says he feels bad for a few days after the treatment, then starts to feel better. He has lost a lot of weight. He looks as thin as Walter, and weighs 195 pounds. That is down from 220 pounds before the surgery. He went back to work about the middle of January. Except for the chemo treatments, his life is back to normal."

What a miraculous recovery. He's another fortunate one who had lots of prayer groups praying for him. I'm so happy for WALTER'S family!

(Greg Thomas in photo on right)

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PEGGY BRANHAM KRUMLINDE has a new email address. You might wish to write this in the back of your handbook: paknm@msn.com

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By now you all have received the email I sent out telling you about DOROTHY BISHOP ROGERS' sad loss of two sisters on the same day. Some of our classmates showed their support for her at the visitation and funeral service of one of them, Helen Hovorak, this past Sunday and Monday. DOTTIE seemed to be cheered by seeing and visiting with us. DOTTIE looked as beautiful as she did in high school, with the only obvious difference being the silver in her hair. Her husband Grady is a warm and friendly man who made me feel as though I have known him forever, just by sharing a few brief words with him. A good match for our outgoing DOTTIE.

(DOTTIE and Grady ROGERS at left)

Among the many who were there at Lange's Funeral Home were classmates JANICE AMARINE, DON SIMMONS, NANCY THOMPSON BAKER, GLENN SMITH, Morris Sweeney, and David and Amy Batts filling in for IRENE PIEL BATTS. I asked DOTTIE if she minded my taking photos as I had not seen her since 1956, and I felt that others may not have seen her in a long while either.

Mr. Sweeney sat for awhile with me and DON SIMMONS, regaling us with stories. The two of them got to talking about how bad the water is here in Ballinger. Morris said he had been to seven (7) funerals from last Wednesday through Sunday, with another one lined up for Gene Keel. You all remember Gene, I'm sure. Many of you worked for his drugstore, which is still in operation today. Anyway, our consensus was a worry that the chemicals in the water here might be causing a lot of the deaths....especially the ones from cancer. DON and I both said we buy the RO (reverse osmosis) water to drink and cook with. Sweeney said that probably doesn't do any good. DON and I both said, "Well, what are we supposed to drink??" Sweeney had a snappy comeback (especially for a Baptist Sunday School teacher!), "Beer!" DON and I both agreed that wasn't a viable option. You know, "been there, done that!" We moved on to other subjects, but I was left hoping my former science teacher was wrong about the chemistry of the water!

DOTTIE had a story to tell Mr. Sweeney about not having taken any Biology courses in high school. "That's nothing, I didn't have any either!" he responded. Sweeney taught Biology many years before the government made him quit because he wasn't certified to teach it!

NANCY THOMPSON BAKER wasn't around for long, as she has an ailing husband at home. Raising four children, with a husband on the road a lot, prepared her for being his nurse in recent years! NANCY has so much experience as a caregiver, she should have made a career of nursing. But, then, maybe she has!

GLENN SMITH was kind enough to take DOTTIE and me to dinner after the visitation, where we tried to catch up on too many years in too short a time -- and eat, too! DOTTIE, you will have to come back on a happier occasion so we can share a REAL visit. Again, we offer condolences for your loss. From what I heard about Helen, she would have been a delight to know, as are you.

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Just a reminder... If you would like to see any of the photos enlarged, just doubleclick with your mouse on the picture you want to see. If you do that on the slideshows to the left, it will take you to the web album and you will see captions with names underneath each photo. If you wish to comment on the blog, just click on "Comments" at the end of this article. A box will open for you to type your comment in. I'd love to hear from you!

Until next time, be ready for "good stuff" to happen in your life. After all, spring is almost here.

Peace and love,
Marilyn

TEACHERS, PADDLES, WET PANTS & MORE ~ PART II

EDITOR: Before we get down to the continuing saga of the big guys' conversations, I have a couple of unrelated items also received recently: 

From PAUL MOTA: (Happy Birthday, Paul. It's Sunday, January 25th!)

"This is a story in a different way than the one about school in Ballinger. I wanted to relate a few memories about the house that recently burned on 6th Street. 

My mother and several sisters and brothers grew up in that house. It was moved from another location out in the country and fixed up for her and the other family members to live in. 

I was in the Air Force during most of that time so I mostly came and stayed there while on leave. Although, my family and I did stay there for about six months in 1975 after I retired from the service and before I moved to San Angelo. 

There was a kitchen table there and the breeze came in the open window and it just felt so good and so quiet and peaceful. All the cares of the world were gone while sitting there. Maximum stress relief.

I am sure my other brothers and sisters have much more vivid memories of that house. I am sure one of my daughter’s best memories of that place is how my mother would make her and all of us fresh tortillas and freshly cut french fries when we visited her. Those tortillas and fries are nowhere to be found anymore. 

Just a little story about a place in Ballinger."...PAUL

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From DOROTHY BISHOP ROGERS:

“Not a lot of news from Midland. We had a very quiet holiday both at Thanksgiving and Christmas. We were able to share some good times with our nursing home patients with filled stockings and visits. (They do love their candy!)

My husband Grady has had another round of surgical procedures. As so many fair-skinned young men of our era, he worked on the farm without a hat and sometimes without a shirt; therefore, skin cancer abounds. This round was tumors of the squamous cell carcinoma kind on both ears. They did surgery at Texas Tech last week. One ear had a complete excise at first try, but the left ear was considerably worse. They had to go in three times in order to get all of the tumor. They then cut a wedge out of his ear to pull it back together. 

This took over an hour with two doctors taking turns. Pain and sitting up in his recliner to sleep for a week has not been fun. He laughingly says he now looks like a 'lop-eared' dog, but knows I won't leave him anyway so it's okay. Ha-Ha! He really takes things so well regardless. We can hardly wait for better weather so we can do a little traveling again. He gets cabin fever, but I would cocoon all the time if I could.

I was so glad to hear that Irene is doing so well. It has been a bad year and I know she looks forward to a better 2009. As always, the news is so appreciated. Doesn't June look great?

Until next time.”...DOTTIE

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From JAMES HAYS: “You have brushed some of the cobwebs from my demented brain so I now remember having Mrs. Bridwell in the first grade. I was terrified of her and afraid to not pay attention. I later found out that I was considered an expert little phonics reader and was used to demonstrate to the first graders how to read at the mature age of 7. Mrs. Loika was married to Eugene L. My dad liked her and her family and disapproved of Eugene whom I saw only once or twice. He thought she married below her station. Funny how I remember such trivia. 

Both Grider and I had Bird Legs Louder, of course not her name to her face, named for her spindly legs which fascinated me to no end. She remarried again and changed her name or the last half of it. I remember how terrible I was the last day of school in her 6th grade class. I also remember that year because I developed a crush on IRENE, but was embarrassed because IRENE could outrun me in a foot race. 

In Mrs. Ramsey's class, 7th grade? I would catch wasps on the way to school and pull out their stingers, one of my most enviable talents, and every two or three days, slip the disarmed critters into her desk drawer and watch her scream when she opened the drawer. The janitor spent half of the year trying to find the wasp nest. The room reeked of DDT. Now I wonder why Santa Claus didn’t black-ball me.”….JAMES 

JERRY EOFF says: “I think you might have made Mrs. Ramsey cry." 

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From BILL KING: “I don't really remember Mrs. Dimmer since I went to the first grade at the Blanton school. Sounds a little familiar that Mrs. Bridwell was a teacher also. All I know about her was I never feared anyone more than her. I remember hearing the stories about Mrs. Bridwell's paddle also. I don't remember ever getting the paddle used on me in grade school even though I probably deserved it.

I vaguely remember being in the hallway but don't remember for what reason or who with. Very well could have been you and me. 

You said Miss Loika. Remembering back I thought she was married and was pregnant while we were in the third grade. Do I remember right or have the cobwebs clouded my memory again? I know if she were pregnant at the time she would not have been Miss Loika because she would have been run out of town on a rail. Today it would not be a big deal. I was also so afraid of her that I had the same problem in asking to go to the bathroom and ended up the same way you did. I remember moving around a lot in my desk hoping my jeans would dry because the wet part would really show when I stood up to leave the room. 

Isn't it strange about some of the things we remember? Nice to know you were concerned about me when you found out I had polio. During the time I was told I had polio I never ever had a thought that I would not make it. I guess I never heard anyone say anything about how bad it could be. My parents probably shielded me from that. I don't think I realized how bad it was until I returned home after three weeks in Shannon Hospital and couldn't walk but a short distance even with crutches. A lot of people traded at Beddo's Phillips 66 station and a lot of information changed hands there. I still remember my dad trading there and every time we stopped to fill up with gas I could get a soft drink and possibly a candy bar. Boy was that a treat.”…BILL 

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From GLENN SMITH: “Bill, I think Jerry had Mrs. Bridwell as a teacher for first grade. I never got the paddle either. I think JERRY told me that Mrs. Bridwell was much nicer than our fears of her would suggest. Is that right, JERRY? JERRY, you no doubt remember a lot of details that I have forgotten. I think Miss Dimmer got married not long after the year when some of us were in her class. I don't remember her married name And I don’t know if she kept teaching. 

I'm not certain whether it was Miss or Mrs. Loika--all this time I have remembered it as Miss. I vaguely recall her as young and not pregnant but don't trust my recollection. JAMES, do your remember? Or maybe IRENE recalls. 

In my "wet pants" episode, I ended up in the bathroom sitting on the radiator to dry out. I recall feeling like a criminal on the lam. 

I have two other second grade memories. One was the only fight I remember being in. The other was about the first book I read all the way through. 

The fight: There was a boy whose name I don't remember but who was suddenly always on the playground. He was our age but left Ballinger around the beginning of sixth grade. Every day in second grade he bullied me at recess, including a lot of shoving and insulting remarks. After a few weeks and a torn shirt, I told my mother because, although teachers were not far away, none intervened. 

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I believe I'd tell him that the next time he shoves you, you plan to hit him on his nose. Then, if he does it again, hit him straight on the end of his nose just as hard as you possible can.’ Next day he shoved me. 

‘I am going to hit you on the nose for that’, I said, feeling nearly too scared to get the words out. 

’YOU ARE NOT!’ he yelled as he shoved me again. ‘YOU'RE TOO YELLOW.’ 

I clinched my right fist, planted my feet, and from somewhere found unusual strength and hit him on the nose. As he went over backward into the West Texas dirt, blood spurted all over his face and shirt and pants and the ground. By the time two teachers reached the scene, dirt had caked on the blood. He looked like a war casualty, still screaming with lots of tears. I'm surprised I didn't get a dose of Mrs. Bridwell's famous paddle, but one of the teachers grabbed me by the ear and sat me on a short post with the admonition that "we don't fight on the playground." The other teacher directed the bully to sit on a nearby post. The two teachers then stood not far away and shielded their mouths behind hands and tried not to laugh but they giggled anyway. After about fifteen minutes I was allowed to leave the post but he had to stay seated. He never bothered me again. 

The book: Someone not in our class--maybe a fourth grader--had a biography of the Lone Ranger. The boy wanted to get rid of it, in fact he wanted to give it away. I accepted it because no one else seemed to want it. Took me about a week to read all of it. I had learned to read at the end of first grade. Tonto and the Lone Ranger were much more interesting than "See Spot Run." When I finished it, I took it to recess where an older kid bought it for a quarter. 

Remember the snack store that was at the edge of the elementary school ground? I took the 25 cents there after school and spent it all on an unthinkable amount of wax whistles and drinks and candy and gum. I couldn't hold all of it in my arms and both hands. Shared that with two classmates, but as usual I don't recall who. We three had enough goodies to make us stuffed, almost sick. 

I still think of that as the most satisfying intellectual experience of my life.”…GLENN \~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

From IRENE PIEL BATTS: “GLENN, I think I remember that Mrs. Loika was pregnant while we were in elementary school. She was Mrs. Eugene Loika. I believe her maiden name was (Mary Ruth) Duke -- maybe John Duke's aunt. And I think you're correct that Miss Dimmer married. Seems that she married a man in the Bridwell family. Am a bit shaky on this last one, though.”…IRENE 

From GLENN: “Thanks IRENE. I have a hunch that Mrs. Loika was a nicer person than I thought she was. It would be annoying to have someone walk into class late every day. Of course the solution would have been for me to get my father to drop me off at school before going to the creamery with the milk. I did ask him to do that but for some reason it didn’t happen, or it didn’t happen soon enough.” ...GLENN 

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Once more, JERRY EOFF chimed in: “Y'all keep talking about that big paddle but no one has mentioned the fearsome ELECTRIC paddle that was stowed somewhere on the premises.

You guys had bum luck with your teachers I have no tales of fear specific to any of mine. Mrs. Bridwell commanded respect, but I have some good memories there too. 

I didn't have Miss Loika but it seems like it was she in the first grade that came and slapped my hands soundly for drawing swastikas on the planes that I drew getting shot down by American planes. Even a few months after the war was over I thought that was out of line considering they were getting shot down. I don't know why she was even around to do it. 

Miss Morgan was just there. All I remember about it was that her room was on the second floor and the windows faced the main building and blocked the view out. Some of my best education came from looking out the windows. Mrs. Tisdale's room looked out toward the high school and I first learned that the angle of the sun changed shadows on brick walls as the season changed. I learned a lot about building construction out Mrs. Louder's windows while they were building the new Jr. High wing out them. There was a whole world to be seen out study hall windows in high school and with the windows open you could always tell by the smell when the river was flooding. Did I mention that I probably had the lowest grades of any person in history that got into dental school?”...JERRY

BILL KING responds to this: “JERRY, I have remembered the talk about the electric paddle over the past years but it had slipped my mind recently. I wonder if the thought of that paddle ever stopped anyone from pulling some of our stunts? Probably not, since in most cases we acted and then thought about the consequences, if we thought at all, and by that time it was too late.

I also remember being in a classroom and watching them build the new Jr. High wing. It might have been in Mrs. Louder's room also but I can't remember. I was totally fascinated by the construction since I had never seen anything like it before. I remember those construction guys hauling wheel barrows of cement up a narrow plank from the ground to the area being built. I think they were mixing the cement in individual mixers also. Those guys earned their wages.”…BILL

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More from BILL KING: “GLENN, I don't remember anything about your fight but I do remember one kid leaving Ballinger, I think during the time you are talking about. His name was Johnny Cowan but I don't remember him being a bully.

Do any of you remember Dwight Davis that was in our class maybe even in Jr. High? Many years ago I was on a company trip and was changing planes in Dallas Love Field and someone got my attention from an upper level. We remembered each other but were both on a schedule to catch a connecting flight and didn't have time to exchange information.

GLENN, I remember the store across the street from school. We called the street the bus lane. If I remember correctly we call the store "The Stand". It was a very small place and the area we placed our orders was inside of The Stand, but it had a dirt floor. I think the area where the food was prepared had a wood floor. The Stand was operated by people by the name of Green I think. An older couple and their son and maybe another person were always there. You could take a quarter and go to The Stand and get a burger or hot dog with chili, a drink, candy or push-up and be stuffed. After eating in the lunchroom for a while I would get tired of the food and take my lunch money and pig out at The Stand. I would like to hear other stories about The Stand.”…BILL

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More from GLENN: “BILL, I do remember the name Dwight Davis. I have a picture of his face in my mind, but I don't know if I am remembering right. I recall him as a nice person.

The cars on railroad tracks antics sound like things some of us talked about, but I don't remember. I think a doctor drove his car down the Abilene Southern tracks to cross Elm Creek to deliver a baby. Does anyone else in the class recall that story?”…GLENN 

EDITOR'S NOTE: I think RODNEY FLANAGAN was born at home. He told me something about the doctor having to put his car on the railroad tracks to get to their house in the country. It was December, so the bridge may have been iced over. Anyway, RODNEY's dad helped in the delivery. If my memory is fuzzy on this one, please correct me RODNEY. 

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JERRY EOFF said: “I guess I married the whole county! Dwight is another cousin courtesy of Shirley. Shirley's aunt on the Fry side married Foy ‘Buster’ Davis, and Dwight is his nephew. The last load of stuff I brought back from cleaning out the Eighth Street house had his Scout Handbook in it. Not sure why I had it. I see him at the occasional funeral. They moved to Rocksprings from here. Not sure where he lives now. Mary Ellen was Buster's daughter. Someone might remember her from the first grade. I think she is a year older and they moved to Hobbs after our first grade. 

Push-ups were fine inventions. Eugene Green had The Stand. He invited me out for some insubordination that I didn't realize I was committing. Seems like I did that every once in a while including once to Mr. DeShazo (so much for sainthood). Later I did an ID photo for Gene’s application for a job in Abilene. There were also two stands at Jr. High. Mrs. Hamner had one. I don't remember who had the other. One was across Eighth Street from the playground, the other across from the Eighth Street entrance to the new wing. I suppose they were the vending machines of the time."...JERRY

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From BILL KING: “JAMES, I remember Eugene Loika being married to Mrs. Loika. I believe Irene said her name was Mary and that sounds right. I also remember Eugene standing around talking to people on Saturday afternoon and comments about him being a big talker and not much of a worker. I probably heard that from my dad.

I also remember ‘bird legs’ Louder. I don't remember anything about her except what we called her. I had forgotten who we called ‘bird legs’ until you connected the dots for me. (EDITOR’S NOTE: I remember hearing Miss Smith called ‘bird legs’ in high school.)

JAMES, I am glad you brought up the 7th grade teacher Mrs. Ramsey. I could visualize her but couldn't remember her name. I think the whole class was very unkind to her due to her reaction on many things. The wasp thing does sound a little familiar to me. She appeared to not be a very strong or stable person and the worst thing she could have done was be a Jr. High teacher. I remember something about her husband being in very ill health and she had to take care of him so along with dealing with us she probably had a difficult life. As I remember when anything in her class went wrong she would walk around the room crying or go to her desk and put her head down in her hands and cry. She lost control of her class early on and most everyone played on that. With our life lessons learned we would have been more kind today but we were Jr. High kids then.

In Mrs. Ramsey's class I became more aware of what war does. I had five brothers in WWII at the same time but they all came home safely. Then came the Korean War. As many of you probably remember, KENNETH DOTY came from a large family of about 10 children if I recall correctly. We were told one day in Mrs. Ramsey's class KENNETH had lost a brother in Korea and that left an impression on me. I couldn't really grasp what that meant since I had not had to deal with death in my family at that time. That had to have been total hell for KENNETH and his family. If I am not mistaken KENNETH lost another brother in Korea during that same year or soon after. Maybe some of you can add to or correct me on this.”…BILL 

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More from BILL: “JAMES, you touched on the polio again so I just wanted to bring back some more memories. Three in your family had polio during the main epidemic. I just wanted to be first so I started a year ahead of you guys, but my brother was admitted to Shannon eleven months to the day, July 1949, after I was, and he has memories of the staff talking about the possibility of him not making it either. They didn't know he was aware of what was going on. He survived with minor problems.

During the summer of 1949 the epidemic was in full swing. During that time movies, schools, churches, swimming pools and almost any gathering place was closed for a period of time. People even hesitated to shake hands. People were also scared out of their minds. DDT was used without control to kill just about anything and it's a wonder people didn't die from it. People were obsessed with mosquitoes, and fly control and foggers were used to fog out DDT. One type of polio was the bulbar polio that attacks the brainstem that controls breathing, swallowing and other vital functions. For bulbar polio someone could possibly be confined to an ‘iron lung’ to keep them from dying. If power were disrupted to the iron lung, the hospital staff would have to manually pump the respirator to keep the patient alive. One of the iron lungs is now on display in the Fort Concho Hospital building in San Angelo.

JAMES, do you remember Dr. Spencer and the therapist Lanier Bell and a very large black guy that also did physical therapy? I have tried to find out the black guy’s name but can't. They were the best, tough but gentle. I have tried to retrieve information about me and my brother from Shannon archives but none exist. I contacted Dr. Ralph Chase here in San Angelo for assistance and he told me that records during that time most likely were kept in the shirt pockets of the doctors and therapist and were never officially recorded.

A thankful polio survivor.”…BILL

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JAMES responded: “I remember all too well my brush with polio. I was tortured every 4 hours with ice-cold shots of penicillin until it finally broke me out with an allergy to it. After I was free of fever, they sent me to a ward with five other boys and switched the torture to Kinney Packs developed by a nun whom I was convinced at the time she was a demented sadist. I realized later that she was a saint. It worked like this: The physical therapist, I remember Miss Smyth, would pin me down with clever wrestling holds while an assistant kept me from escaping on the other side of the bed which was no great shakes as I was weak as a kitten from the polio, and then from a steaming pressure cooker on wheels they would pull out hot pieces of old army blankets and wrap my arms, legs, and torso nearly scalding me and finally removing them after they ‘cooled’ as much as they could in July in San Angelo. Happy tenth birthday, James. But it worked, and I had little or no residual problems after about 6 months. Grider did well after his first two or three days and my dad had a slight weakness in his shoulder for a few months which recurred when he had a slight stroke 28 years later.

I was in the hospital with a boy from Winters named Buddy Dyess. I found out later he was closely related to Edwin Dyess, an Air Corps pilot who was a one man air force in the early part of World War II, until he got the last P-40 shot out from under him and was captured at the big surrender. He escaped from the Bataan death march and got home just to get killed in an accident stateside. Medal of Honor and Dyess AFB named for him.

I remember very well a year later on the 25th of June 1950 when the Korean War broke out. Nobody could find Korea on the map because the maps still had the Japanese name for Korea on them. I was one of the first to find out where it was, and for a couple of days I got to show some adults where Korea was. A Ballinger boy, Billy Jack Middleton, was captured in late 1950 when the Chinese entered the war, and I marched in the band in the parade when he was repatriated in 1953. His mother, Mrs. Middleton, was the high school librarian.”…JAMES

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EDITOR: Well, everyone, I hope reading all these reminiscences brought back a lot of memories for each of you of your years spent growing up, whether here in Ballinger or somewhere else. If you wish to share any of those memories, send them on! And if you have answers to any of the guys' questions, either email them personally (remember email addresses are in your handbook, or you can copy it off the emails I send to the class.), or send it to me to publish.

Again, I'll remind you that you can doubleclick on any photo to see it enlarged. If you doubleclick on the slideshows to the left of the blog post, it will send you to the web albums where you can view each picture with captions underneath. You may enlarge them there, too. You may also change the music that is playing by clicking on the forward or back arrows.

Of course, you can also go through the archives to see all of the past blog submissions. Just click on the week you wish to view. 

Until next time, let the "good stuff" happen!

Peace and love,

Marilyn

TEACHERS, PADDLES, WET PANTS & MORE ~ PART I

EDITOR’S NOTE: The last blog post generated a lot of comments from the guys. Since I am not sure how many of you read the “Comments” on the blog, I thought you might like to read some of the emails I’ve received . First I received the following from JIM COWLISHAW:

"Times have changed. I remember growing up also in a family that considered the *colored* families a different class. We had a couple of folks that helped us. One was a grand old woman that helped mother with the kids and housework. I was really young, about four or five, we called her n***Polly. Her husband helped dad round the house. We called him n***Jessie. What a put down, now that I recall. Wasn't that a shame?

When I was moved to Winters, I had two black men working in the lumber yard. R.L. Johnson and Lewis Johnson. They were paid $100 a month. This was 1971. After I got the feel of the operation, I was to report the changes that should be made to make the operation productive. One, and the first request, was to double their salary. This caused some concern with the upper management, but was allowed. I told them that these two men were so poor and downbeaten that they couldn't even look for other work. I recall going into the back room of the cafe, having coffee with R.L. because he was not allowed in the front.

Times have changed, my upbringing taught me to look down on these folks, and it is a daily reminder to change.

Good work on the blog. Good things are happening. Thanks!"...JIM

EDITOR: I replied to JIM that it took a lot of good people committing acts like his that helped create the United States we live in today. Thanks, JIM, for being conscientious during a time that it was not popular to do so. Especially in small town Texas.

Somehow, some of you have had memories of your elementary school days surface ,and started an ongoing dialogue. I am posting the first of these now. Believe me when I say, there are more to come! If any of you wish to join them, and share your childhood memories of going to school in Ballinger, please feel free to do so.

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JAMES HAYS sent the following email:
“Great to hear of IRENE's progress and good news. Perhaps our prayers have been answered. I know that it has been a tough row to hoe, and I know that Irene must be relieved. About ten years ago, I got word from medical news channels that now (then) over 50% of malignancies had been cured and that’s excluding skin cancer. (I fix one of these every month or so and that’s on a part-time basis.) I hope Irene will continue to heal and stay in that top 50%.

Good to hear from JUNE and her family. I wish the newlyweds all the happiness.

GLENN, I’m sorry to hear about Neuman Smith. Grider thought a lot of him, and he was a storehouse of information on Runnels County history. Perhaps they are comparing historical notes now and looking down on us and laughing at our feeble efforts.

BILL, give us an update on your broken foot. I hope you heal it up OK. As I told you, my earliest recollection of you was the second grade, and you were stumping around on crutches and braces from polio – so you don’t need too much damage to your legs!” JAMES 

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The following subsequently came in from BILL KING: 

”I agree it is great to hear about IRENE's positive progress in her battle. Isn't it great to live in a time where progress is being made in the treatment of most all cancers? IRENE, do you remember Emmitt Eggemeyer? He remembers you well. I see him and talk with him a couple of times a month and just talked with him tonight. He went through cancer treatment in his mouth about four years ago and is doing fine now. Just as JAMES said, I also hope you stay in that top 50%.

I didn't know Neuman Smith very well, but we never like to hear about the loss of someone's relative. The one thing I do remember about him was him burning up the road at about 30- or 40-mph in his old car that he had for so many years. I think the car was about a 1950 Plymouth, wasn't it GLENN?

My old broken foot is doing great and never hurt as much as I expected. I have ditched the crutches, but will have to wear the boot for another three or so weeks.

JAMES, I think it was the third grade when I had polio and had the braces and crutches. I think it was in Mrs. Williams' class. I had polio in about late August of 1948 and didn't get to go back to school until somewhere around November, just a short time before my tenth birthday. After going back to school I had my own personal servant by the name of JERRY EOFF. JERRY was working on a scout merit badge, so every day just before lunch he would go get my food tray and bring it back to the room for me, and I would eat in the classroom while everyone else went to lunchroom. Thanks to JERRY for his help. Later, as I could walk on the crutches better I would play baseball by batting and having someone run the bases for me. Just enjoyed batting and didn't have to put out all of the effort to run. 

I don't have anything but good memories as to how I was treated by my teachers and classmates during those times.”…BILL KING

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This came in from JERRY EOFF:

“To cousin (she's Shirley's cousin-in-law removed) IRENE: Glad to hear you have the beast on the run.

I suppose I should likewise pass on a good word for our bunch. 

Mother warned me early on that I would likely get some teasing, and (said to) just say that the scar was "from my second operation" whatever that was. I didn't know what she was talking about. However I never had to use the ammunition. I can remember no time in the entire Ballinger school experience that the subject was ever brought up by a classmate, or school mate either. I have talked to and heard about others elsewhere with much different stories. Of course I also had a better "2nd operation" than many. My dad scrubbed in on it. He used to do them at the Shriner Hospital in Dallas.

A pretty good place to grow up and a good bunch to do it with.”…JLE 

P.S. BILL, 'twern't no merit badge involved, just doin' my good turn, daily as it turned out, and felt important to boot. Quite welcome. That bug hit a lot of kids back then and was feared nearly as much as cancer. You happened on a worse dose than many did and not as bad as a few.”…JERRY

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Now it’s GLENN SMITH’S turn to jump in:

“JAMES, thanks for the kind words about Neuman. You too, BILL. ‘Til you reminded me, I had forgotten about Neuman's '50 Plymouth. He always kept it waxed and drove slowly. I think he drove it about 25 years, and that it met some sort of untimely end. 

BILL, I had Mrs. Williams for 2nd grade. She made me sit in the back of the room because I talked too much. Were we in the same class? Hope I didn't get you in trouble. 

I’m so glad you recounted how JERRY brought you lunch. JERRY was such a Zane Grey quiet hero – always doing the right thing, watching and helping out when no one knew.

IRENE, keep getting well and feeling better and better.”…GLENN

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To which BILL KING responded:

“OK, JAMES, JERRY, GLENN, and IRENE, I need for all you to help me shake the cobwebs out of my brain. I went to the first grade in the Blanton country school where we had 8 grades in the one room. DORIS STOKES (WHITE) and I were the only first graders along with a few others scattered across the other grades. DORIS and I had a lot of recess time. Now here is where I need your help. If Mrs. Williams was the second grade teacher, who were the third, fourth and fifth grade teachers? Was Mrs. Loika the third grade teacher? You don't have to remind me who Mrs. Bridwell (spelling?) was! She was the grade school principal that ruled the lunch room by twisting ears. I remember her twisting my ear in the lunch room for talking and I would almost bet that each and every one of you had the same experience. I think it only happened to me once and I thought I had lost an ear so I was very careful from then on. Remember we could not talk a lot at the lunch table except to ask for something to be passed to us and when we did talk it was in a quite voice. Haven't things changed? 

GLENN, I don't know if we were in the same class or not. If you talked too much in Mrs. Williams class I know you received an ear twisting in the lunch room. 

JERRY, you and I had to deal with our own situation that could have been very devastating to either of us if others had chosen to make it so. I guess neither of us gave it a lot of thought since no big deal was made of it. Aren't you grateful we went to a small town school with schoolmates that were understanding? I know I am. GLENN, I agree with you about the type person JERRY is. 

Looking forward to your answers.”…BILL

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JAMES HAYS responds:

“BILL, as I remember it, there were three first, second, and third grade classrooms and we were shuffled like a box of dominoes every year. We only got together at recess or lunch. I don’t remember who I had in the first grade, but I had Mrs. Johnson for the 2nd grade; she advised me to study medicine because of poor handwriting. I finally followed her advice. I think I had Mrs. Loika in the 3rd(?) grade.

I had contracted polio in June 1949, and my dad and I went in the same ambulance to Shannon Hospital, where Grider was convalescing -- all three of us at the same time. Grider came close to dying, but he recovered faster. I missed the first 6 weeks of the fifth grade and went mornings only the second six weeks. I recovered enough that one day that spring I got tired of SANDRA PATTERSON’s pigtails knocking my pencils off of the desk. One Friday, just before school was out, one of her pigtails somehow entered the inkwell. It was a magnificent study in capillary action. She said her mother was not amused. Sandra turned out to be a very attractive lady.”…JAMES

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Then I heard from GLENN SMITH again:

”BILL, I had Miss Dimmer for first grade. I believe that Mrs. Bridwell was not only the Principal but that she also taught first grade. I don't remember getting any ear twist from Mrs. Bridwell, although I do remember fearing her. 

I don't recall who the other first grade teacher was, and I don't remember any of the other pupils in Miss Dimmer's room. One afternoon a month or two before the year ended, we were each to cut out a small figure from a page in our workbooks and paste it onto a spot on a different page. I had my cutout on the desk. When I reached for it to do the pasting, it was gone. Of course I should have told Miss Dimmer and I thought about it, got up to go tell her--but fear stopped me. In desperation I decided that since someone had stolen my cutout that I'd steal one. I sneaked one from the desktop of a girl. She did what I should have--she told the teacher, who flew into a tirade of generalized reprimand with an endless commentary about the horrible person who did the unthinkable and unforgivable theft. I was soooo ashamed, wanted to confess and beg for mercy, but it was obvious that would lead to Miss Dimmer's dragging me down the hall to Mrs. Bridwell's office. Rumor had it that the Principal had an enormous paddle--with big holes in it to cut down on drag--that could flatten a grown up. I didn’t breathe easy ‘til the year ended.

(My belated apologies to the classmate whose cutout I swiped. And no hard feelings to the one who took mine.) 

Mrs. Williams in second grade seemed less threatening to me. She did move me to the back of the room, and I believe another boy with me. Then she dragged me by the ear into the hallway and left me there to think about talking in class. She dragged the other boy out also. I keep thinking that was you, BILL, but I am not at all certain that it was. I got taken or sent to the hallway several times that year. 

Third grade was a really bad experience for me. Miss Loika was in her first or second year of teaching. I had ridden the bus during the first and second grades, but at the beginning of third grade, my father drove to town every morning with the milk from about ten cows. He took me to school but only after he left the milk at the creamery. I was late every morning by about ten minutes. "WELL!!!!!!!! Old Grandpa has decided to grace us with his presence," was Miss Loika's loud greeting as I tried to slip into my seat. "We're so glad you decided to join us, Grandpa." Some variant of that comment, in a sarcastic voice, greeted me every morning. That year lasted forever. I so feared Miss Loika that I wet my pants rather than ask to go to the bathroom. I started developing pretend stomachaches after lunch. I walked to my Grandmother's house on 7th street, and enjoyed her stories until late in the afternoon. "Glenn needs to apply himself more" was in the report card comment section nearly every grading period. 

Fourth grade was with Mrs. Caskey, the Superintendent's wife. She saved my life. She approved of me, asked me questions that I knew the answers to, and let me flourish. It was enough to get me through the next thirteen years of schooling. I don't remember much of the fifth and sixth grades or of junior high, except for the commanding figure of Mr. Funderburk. He put on a gruff exterior, but I always thought he was kind and a gentleman. Of course there were some very good teachers in BHS. I got through college on what several of them taught us.

BILL, I remember being with my father at Curt Bedoe's service station in August before third grade. Someone told him about you having polio. I remember feeling scared for you. I was afraid you were not going to make it. I was happy to see you when you finally got back to school. Of course you were quite a figure with your braces and crutches. 

JAMES, I suppose you and I must have met in Miss Loika's room. I was so traumatized that I don't remember.”…GLENN 

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EDITOR'S NOTE: By now I could see these guys were really getting into this trip down memory lane. This is when I asked them if they minded if I posted this lengthy back and forth discussion on the blog. All agreed, except for this humble statement from JERRY EOFF: 

"I'm not sure about exposing my apparent nomination to sainthood to the world on the 'net though". 

BILL KING quickly shot back: 

"Maybe the nomination to sainthood came a little too quickly. I had this vision of 2 or 3 guys lowering the air pressure on a 1955 or so Buick and putting it on the railroad track with success less than expected. Sure glad the Abilene Southern didn't appear on the horizon. Do you recall anything about that incident?"...BK 

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JERRY: “I remember less about that than Ronald Funderburk and me in his Model A. We got about halfway from the 4-mile crossing road of the railroad near GLENN's, and none closer to town before we lost it. Even bounding the ties, I suspect the Abilene Southern Bullet Express would 

never have caught us. I think the Buick ('53 actually) experience was so much a flop that the details escape me. I think we just made a few feet in it, and never even cleared the road??? 

Several things like that, handed down in tales from preceding generations, never seemed to work the way they were presented ~ such as methylene blue and others."...JLE 

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BILL: "I guess I never heard about the Model A incident. 

I don't remember who was the third person with you and me when we had the hair-brained idea to put that Buick on the railroad tracks. I remember letting a little amount of air out of the tires so they would conform to the rails and proceeded to line up for the coming disaster. We were at the first railroad crossing just down the road from the one-mile crossing. The first few feet went well, probably less than 50 feet but it all fell apart. I think we just cleared the louvered cattle guard on the track when the car fell from the rails. That Buick was very heavy and low to the ground and we thought we were stuck. We were able to push and drive the car off of the rails without tearing out the undercarriage and came out of a gate to get back on the road. If the car had fallen off of the rails over the cattle guard area I think we would have waited for the Abilene Southern to remove it.

If our parents had found out about this we would not have lived to write about it."...BILL

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TO BE CONTINUED 

Tell me this is not "good stuff"! 

MARILYN

MORE HITCHHIKING ADVENTURES

Ter Cothran sent the following: “Your blog on hitchhiking was most interesting and brought up an old memory.

It was the summer of 1955 and I was at the Hillcrest Drive-In watching a movie called Lullaby of Broadway, with James Cagney and Doris Day. I went to the snack bar during intermission and started talking to Jimmie Robbins. We somehow got on the subject of seeing the state of Colorado. Before I knew how it happened we were making plans to go THAT NIGHT. At the time I had a 1951 Henry J that was not in the best shape. Jimmie didn't have a car so it was decided that we would set out in my Henry J as soon as we could get home and get some clothes packed. We didn't tell our parents we were going and left about midnight on our journey to see Colorado.

About half way to Winters, my Henry J gave up and the engine blew. We pulled into an old abandoned gas station and left the Henry J behind in the weeds. (I never did go back for it and to my knowledge it could still be there).

We started walking and there was no traffic on the highway at all that night. We walked all the way to Winters and about sunup we were hitchhiking somewhere on the north side of Winters when we caught a ride. When we reached Abilene we caught another ride and continued on going west to Sweetwater and then on to Lubbock. I can't recall exactly how many different rides we picked up before we arrived in Santa Fe. In Santa Fe we caught a ride with a gentleman in a black '54 Chevrolet pickup. He took us all the way to Durango, Colorado and even bought our meals on the way.

Outside Durango we were walking again and had our thumbs out to catch another ride when we were stopped by the Colorado Highway Patrol. Unknown to us, it was illegal to hitchhike in the state of Colorado. When the patrolman found out we were only 16 years old he took us to the station and got on the phone to our parents. He asked my dad what he wanted them to do with us and my dad, being my dad, said, "I guess you had better turn them loose so they can get home ‘cause I'm sure as hell not coming up there after them". Jimmie's mom had a flame-out and started crying and came completely unglued and went to my parents house wanting to know what to do about getting us home. My dad said, "They got up there okay on their own, they can get back the same way", and we did.

So, that was the great hitchhiking experience of 1955. Jimmie's mom got over it, but never was too cool on Jimmie hanging out with me after that. We remained good friends until his death, ....... God rest his soul. In 1961 while hitchin' from Fort Carson, Colorado to Los Angeles, I passed over many of the same highways that Jimmie and I had traveled on our adventure, and I smiled.” …TER

Keep the memories coming in to me! Does anyone have any ghost stories to share? It's almost Halloween, you know.

Pay attention to all the "good stuff" happening. And don't forget to VOTE!

'Til next time,

Marilyn

HITCHING A RIDE

By GLENN SMITH

“Driving out of Abilene the other day, I saw a man waving a hand-lettered sign. "NEED A RIDE SOUTH," it said. I was doing 70; I didn't stop. Neither did other cars.

Got me thinking. I had driven the road from Ballinger to Abilene and back 78 times in the past 100 days. This was the first hitchhiker I'd seen in that time. Very different from 50 years ago. I wondered how many members of the class of ‘57 had used their thumbs to get rides.

JAMES HAYS and I caught three rides to Guadalupe Mountain in December 1956 (Reunion Handbook). That was my first experience hitchhiking. Eight months later, in the summer of '57, I hitched from Abilene to near Fort Worth to visit NYDAH ELLET whose mother and stepfather had recently moved there. Took five hours and three rides on a Saturday.

Another weekend guest at NYDAH's mother's house agreed to my request for a ride to Ballinger as he was headed there the next morning. He and his wife were from Ballinger. He had a Taylorcraft, a two place, side by side, high wing airplane. As dawn was breaking, he and I bounced down a grass runway on the south side of Arlington. Trouble was he hadn't slept for a couple of days. A few feet off the ground, climbing nicely, his eyes closed. His head hung loose as he went fast asleep. At first I felt panic but, as his hand slipped from the control yoke to his lap, I touched the wheel in front of me and knew I could fly the plane. I hadn't been in a Taylorcraft before, but I had logged nearly ten hours of flying time in similar planes. I spotted the road to Brownwood, decided 1500 feet above the ground was a good altitude, and actually enjoyed the flight. This was before I got lost flying from Brownwood to Ballinger nine weeks later (for those who remember that account in a previous blog entry.)

An hour and a half after takeoff, Bruce Field appeared. I felt sure I could land the plane, was nearing the turn on final approach to the runway, when I decided I ought to try waking him. His eyes opened during the second vigorous shake. He reached for the control wheel, said "looks like we're here," rolled into a left turn and executed a perfect landing. He taxied, parked, shut the engine down. "Guess I had too many beers last night." I didn't think he wanted me to agree, so I kept quiet.

That Taylorcraft trip was the only hitching I did by air. It taught me that when begging free rides the unexpected is usual.

During 1957 to 1959, JERRY EOFF and I hitched our way from Ballinger to Abilene (we both went to Abilene Christian) and back to Ballinger a number of times. Sometimes we joined each other but often it was a solo effort. I don't recall his parents or mine encouraging our thumbing rides, but I also don't remember that they objected.

One day we caught a ride that dropped us off south of Abilene. We stood for about ten minutes before a shiny Ford sedan stopped almost beside us. Usually by the time a driver saw us at highway speed, and took a long enough look to decide we were okay to stop for, the vehicle would be 20 to 40 yards past where we stood. Then we'd run toward it, hoping the driver wouldn't race away showering us with gravel. That happened only once, but it made a strong impression.

The gleaming Ford was immaculate. We both sat on the bench front seat with me in the middle. As the driver accelerated, I noticed that the speedometer went from 0 to 140. "Will it go that fast," I naively asked. "Don't know," he replied. "Picked it up from the dealer a few minutes ago." His foot went to the floorboard. "Let's see. It has the biggest engine Ford makes."

As the speedometer needle passed 126, the right front tire blew. Of course we didn't have seat belts fastened. The driver stayed cool, braked fairly gently and hauled it to a stop on the right edge of the pavement. We climbed out. He grabbed the jack, said we need not help, loosened lug nuts, bolted the spare on, threw the shredded wheel into the trunk, and took us out to the college. We waved and he waved as he rolled on toward were he was headed. We didn't ask. He didn't say. Probably going to see a cute woman I thought.

It was a felt rule, not written anywhere, that it wasn't polite to ask questions. The driver could ask. Others in the car could ask. The one seeking a ride should answer differentially and put up with whatever smells, noises, idiosyncrasies, and silences happened to be present.

I had fantasies of being picked up by a beautiful girl driving a fast car. It never happened. All the drivers from whom I got a lift turned out to be male. Just as well. I was too shy to know what to say to a glamorous woman anyway.

I never had any really bad experiences while hitchhiking, but there were two occasions that put me off. In 1959, late on a Friday, I was headed to Ballinger. I waited endlessly for someone to stop. Hardly anyone was on the road. Finally the worst looking auto I've ever seen outside a junk yard clanked and jangled and smoked its way to a stop. It had plenty of rust, a shredded rag top, torn seat covers--the old grey felt kind with springs sticking through--and four occupants dressed in rags. I failed to understand what the man driving or his spouse said to me, but I climbed into the back seat with two screaming kids. Took two and a half hours to get to Ballinger. Each of the four seemed to speak a different tongue from the others. In compensation for their seeming not to comprehend each other, they yelled nonstop. I swore I'd give up hitchhiking but two nights’ sleep and classes waiting to be finished at ACC had me back on the road the following Sunday afternoon. A pleasant man in a pickup took me the whole way.

The other off-putting experience happened in Patzcuaro, Mexico about fifteen years ago. I was there with my wife and her sister, both born Mexico. We needed a ride to the airport in Morelia an hour away. Cab drivers were on strike. On the town plaza, my sister-in-law talked to a group of men who had a truck and asked them to take us to the airport. I found myself feeling thoroughly uneasy. I kept thinking--you may find this odd but it is what I was thinking--"if only there could be an angel to show us what to do." Across the plaza, maybe 300 yards away, a woman walked rapidly toward me. "The men you see there," she said looking at the guys my sister-in-law had talked with, are known to be thieves. You must avoid them!" (She worked at a local cultural institute that owned a small bus which she offered.) She told the men they would not be needed for the airport trip. I thanked her, asked her name. "Angelica," she replied.

I have no idea, except for JERRY and JAMES, whether others in the class of '57 resorted to thumbing rides. I've picked up hitchhikers off and on across the years, but I didn't stop for the man headed south the other day. Something intuitive gets my foot on the brake--or not. I don't argue with that.”...GLENN

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EDITOR'S NOTE: I was never in a position to hitchhike when I was young, but I remember during World War II that every trip anyone in our family made to California or Missouri, no matter how crowded our car was (with gas rationing, you took as many folks as needed a ride) we always picked up any service man who was hitchhiking. Often they would drive while others slept. As a small child, I spent many a mile trying to sleep with my head on the hump in the back floorboard.

I also heard my mother tell how her mother hitchhiked home to Missouri taking my mother and her younger brother with her during the Depression.

And we think times are tough now!

Marilyn