'Oops'..Did It Again...

Well, I did it again,-read some in my journal; the story of my life. Each time I do this, I am tempted to post an adventure in my blog,-and I usually succumb to that temptation. So, here it is, a little bit of my past!

”…Mother took me to register for the first grade in Galen Clark Grammar School in the autumn of 1940. The school officials said I had to be five years old to start so Mother took me back in January of 1941 and enrolled me in the first grade. I finished the first grade that year and advanced to the second grade when I was still five years old.

The following year just before school started, Mother took me to the school cafeteria to get my shots. I don’t remember what the shot was for but I know it must have been terrible because every kid there was whimpering or crying out loud in anticipation of the shot. Mom and I got in line and I didn’t have enough sense to be scared so I just went along with line until I reached the nurse who was giving the shots. She smiled at me and told me to roll up my sleeve and I did. She gave me the shot and it stung a little but I didn’t flinch or cry. She looked up at my mother and said,” My, what a brave little Man!” Mom said,” Yes he is.”

Floyd Bue, who would later be my stepbrother, also went to Galen Clark School. Floyd had a high squeaky voice and, although he was a tall boy for his age and as physical as he should be for his height, he was timid and afraid of just about anyone who wanted to terrorize him.

There were a lot of Mexicans enrolled in school and three of them liked to wait for Floyd and pick at him as he was walking home from school.

The last time they made him cry, he told them that his brother was going to start school soon and they had better watch out. I started awhile later and sure enough, on the way home that first day, the Mexican kids were waiting for him. Floyd was taller than I was but I was fatter than he was and that made me seem bigger.

Floyd told me ahead of time about the boys and we were ready for them. When they approached us, one of them said,” Is that your brother?” and Floyd said it was and he is tough. The boy walked over to me and asked how tough I was and I punched him in the mouth. He started running away from us and the other two followed him. They never bothered us again.

Floyd and I spent a lot of time together and we never bothered anyone and, after that incident, no one bothered us again.

I vaguely remember a water tower we climbed. I don’t remember what we did on it; I think just looked around. I thought up most of the things Floyd and I did together and he usually just went along with them.”

Boy, for those good old days of innocence! They pass too swiftly and are not enjoyed to their fullest until the wheel of life has almost rolled all the way over! Thank God for a healthy old age and an excellent memory!

Later…