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HomeMy WebLinkAboutBiographyMy JOURNEY FR01~ INDIANA TO TEXAS The Pre-School Years It was a cold, rainy, miserable 22°d Day of December in 1930 in south central Indiana. It was the birth day of Arthur Dean Bright, the first child of Minnie Maud Bright and Morton Dean Bright. Because I was really unresponsive to weather conditions at that early age, I cannot actually guarantee that the weather condition described above actually existed on that date, but I have experienced those conditions through several Decembers in Indiana. My first home was in a small rural house beside a gravel road south of the town of Elnora. I actually do not remember this house, but in later years my father took me to the site and told of our humble beginnings. Elephants have always been an attraction for me. Anytime I was at a circus or zoo I always had to visit the elephant compound. In later years I expressed to my father this strange attraction to elephants. He told me that when I was very small, a circus had come to the local area. One day the elephant trainers took the elephants out for exercise and they walked down the road in front of our house. He took me down the lane to see the passing elephants. He theorized that this episode might explain my attraction to elephants. Who knows? I suppose it could be possible. While very young, we moved a few miles north and east to another rural house that was larger. I am not sure where we lived when they were born, but in short order I had a brother, Bill, and two sisters, Amaryllis and Aenita. I was named after an uncle who was a school teacher. My brother, Bill, was also named after an uncle who was a druggist. This uncle was later murdered by two youths who were committing a robbery. My oldest sister, Amaryllis, was named after the Amaryllis lily which was my mother's favorite flower. I do not know how my youngest sister got her name. In my early years, we had two pets. "Nero" was a huge black dog weighing over 100 pounds. He was half Newfoundland and half bulldog. He was so big that sometimes we rode him like a horse. Our second pet was a big white rabbit named "Jigs". Nero and Jigs were the best of pals and slept together under the house at night. Not long after moving to our second house, several military trucks stopped in front of the property next door. Many young men in military fatigues piled out of the trucks and started working on the hill of the property next door. The hill was filled with gullies and washes. Soon the property was covered with small trees. Later in school I learned that these were CCC boys. The CCC stood for Civilian Conservation Corps, better known as President Roosevelt's "Depression Make-Work Program". My Uncle Art came to visit us one summer and brought with him a hunting dog. I think this dog did his best hunting for pet rabbits because he killed Jigs. We kids were crushed. When we moved from our rural area into the town of Elnora, we gave Nero away. He was just too big to fasten in a pen in town. So there were no more pets. reflected from the ice crystals. It was so beautiful! It was like walking on a field of diamonds. But I was concerned that we were killing the wheat since each step broke the frozen wheat blades. Dad assured me that we were not hurting the wheat. Not convinced, I scrutinized that field every time we passed it. Sure enough, when summer came I could no longer find our path through the field. Dad had been right again. Mother, I'm told, always had teeth trouble. One day the whole family piled into the family car. I must have been three years old, maybe four. We traveled to Odon, a small town about ten miles away from home. In Odon we went into a fairly large building. I later learned that this was a dentist's office. It seemed that we were in the office for an eternity. Finally Mother came out and we headed for home. Although I did not know what it meant, I was told that Mother had had teeth pulled. As I got old enough to go to the dentist myself, I realized how hard it would be to have all teeth pulled at one sitting. Imagine how shocked I was when in high school my Dad told me that she had had all her teeth pulled at that time without any deadener. He explained that pain deadeners made her sick. Wow! What a high tolerance for pain she must have possessed. The Elementary School Years I started to school while we still lived in the country. I don't know if it was accidental, or intentional, but my father made me feel so important. In Indiana, at least at that time, a child could start to school when he was 5 years old, provided his birthday occurred before January 1. Since my birthday was December 22"d, I was eligible to start school when I was five years old. One evening my dad called me and told me that we needed to talk. Then he explained the options and told me that he was leaving the decision up to me. I felt so important -five years old and making a lifetime decision. I remember thinking for a few minutes and then telling Dad that for such an important decision I needed to think for a while. That night I lay in bed awake for a long time. Finally, I reached a decision and went to sleep. The next morning I told Dad that I believed that I should not be in a hurry to start school. So if the decision was mine, then I would not start school and would wait until the next year when I was six years old. Thus, when I did start school, I was the oldest person in my class. After teaching school for thirty plus years, I look back and consider this event to be one of the most important in my life. I have come to believe that there is a readiness period in one's life that enhances the likelihood of educational success. I believe the year's wait enabled me to reach that period in my life. When it comes to physical ability (success in athletics) I also think that I needed another year. I believe that in High School I was not mentally tough enough to be as good as I could have been. In one more year, perhaps I could have been. Who knows? My mother and father believed in the old adage "Spare the rod and spoil the child". My father did not use a rod but he did use a leather honing strap that he used to sharpen his razor. As a child I was pretty stubborn. Because of this, the fact that I was the oldest, I seemed to get the most lickings. Because of my stubborn attitude, I early decided that I would not cry (somehow I thought that Dad just wanted to see me cry). My brother and 3 sisters pleaded with me to cry, telling me that he would stop sooner and strike lighter if I would cry. But I would not buy into that idea. I don't think that I ever cried from receiving a licking. But my father did not give me my most severe licking. That honor belonged to my mother. While in the first grade, I decided one spring day that I didn't want to go to school. Mother was a nurse, so her first action was to take the body temperature of the ill person. So the thermometer went into my mouth. The temperature was normal, so my mother suspected I was faking. So she told me to get dressed for school. I managed to play around so that when the bus came I was not dressed and ready to go. So Mother said, "You're sick, so go to bed." I told her that I felt better. But she assured me that I was sick and to get in bed. Reluctantly I went to bed. During mid-morning the mailman came. I hopped out of bed and told mother that I would pick-up the mail. She reminded me that I was sick and to get back in bed. We lived down a lengthy lane (probably about 60 yards long). I pretended not to hear and proceeded to the mailbox. When about two- thirds of the way back to the house, I looked up and there my mother stood on the porch, brandishing a freshly cut peach willow. I stopped dead in my tracks and she instructed me to get in the house. I informed her that I was not coming in as long as she held the willow. Her next move was to step off the porch and start toward me. That day I had my first track workout. I turned and ran. Mother stopped and calmly said, "You'll soon get hungry" and returned inside. I sat down under a tree, thumbed through the mail, watched the ants crawl up and down the tree, and then watched the fleecy clouds in the sky. After half the day had passed (probably about five or ten minutes), I decided that she had forgotten the incident and I would go inside. I went to the front door, pushed it slightly ajar, peered in, and success -she was not there. So I opened the door and marched inside. Suddenly I experienced the sense of flying. My feet were moving, but they were not touching the floor. It was then that I realized that Mother had been hiding behind the door. I really was flying because Mother had lifted me off the floor. She informed me that she was going to impress upon me that I should never run from her. And she did! I never ran from her again. I carried the welts from the peach willow on my legs and buttocks for over a week. I do not wish to leave the impression that my parents abused me. I never received punishment of any kind that I did not deserve. Now, in my later years, I appreciate their care and upbringing. My Dad used to say, "This hurts me more than you", but I wondered how he could lie so much. But, when I had my own children, I understood. He was right. My father always told us to do what was right while we were at school. The teachers were always right even if they were wrong. He told us if we ever got a licking at school, we would get one twice as hard when we got home. Needless to say, I never got a licking at school. But, one time I received a scare. During my second grade year we had a boy in class that I classified as a bully. He was always pushing his weight around. Particularly he liked to pick on smaller boys and girls. One day he was harassing a girl, and I finally had heard 4 and seen enough. Even though he was bigger than I, I stepped in and told him to stop. We never really had a fight, but there was a lot of shoving and shouting. Suddenly, a boy ran out of the school building, running across the playground, shouting that the teacher wanted to see me immediately. We were on the farthest reaches of the playground and I rushed to meet with the teacher. Since I had almost been involved in a fight, I was sure the teacher was holding me responsible and that I was being called to receive a licking. Every step seemed like a mile. When I got to the classroom, the teacher smiled and said that she had just finished grades for the grading period and she wanted to tell me that I had earned the highest grade. I heaved a sigh of relief and ran back to the playground. But, many years later, after teaching several years, I believe the teacher observed what had been about to happen on the playground, and used that means to defuse a potential playground problem. She probably also saved my life. He really was bigger than I. During the second grade or third grade (I can't remember which), we had a girl whose name was Suzzabelle Uhrine. I felt so sorry for her at Valentines Day when someone went into the room during lunch hour and drew a large heart and arrow on the blackboard. Inside the heart was inscribed, "Just call me Pee Pee, I'm all Uhrine." She came into the room before the drawing was erased. She was crushed. I felt so sorry for her. During the summer of 1939, my dad took a new job and we moved from the country into the small town of Elnora, Indiana. My grandparents lived out in the country at Elnora, about two and a half miles from our house. We two boys' job every day was to walk to Grandma's house and bring back a gallon of milk. One day I got the idea that we should start smoking. I took along some matches and pieces of newspaper. Walking along the road we looked for the appropriate tobacco. It was the end of July and we had received no rain for a long period of time. Almost all the plants were brown and we decided that dried milk-weed leaves would make the best tobacco. We took some leaves, crushed them in the palm of our hands, poured the crushed particles into the small newspaper squares, rolled them up and, guess what, we had cigarettes. You must realize that no one in our family smoked so, neither of us had any idea what we were doing. I took my homemade cigarette, placed it in my mouth, applied the flame from a match, took a long inhale, and almost died. No one had told me that you should not inhale, just puff, at least until you became somewhat experienced. I coughed and sputtered all the way to Grandma's house and half the way home. So much for smoking, I have never touched a cigarette since then. ' In the summer before my fourth grade year, my dad took a new and better job and we moved about twenty miles north to a bigger town called Bloomfield. I started the fourth grade in Bloomfield. I think that I must have been getting too big for my britches. I ' began having some disputes with my parents, and it got to the point that one night I threatened to run away from home. My mother said, "Go ahead". I was shocked, but trapped. I had to either run away or eat humble pie. So I started packing my things. I ' had some new jeans in my drawer that had been purchased for the next school year. I packed them in my runaway bag. Mother came to check on my progress. She _ confiscated the jeans saying that since they had not been worn and I was leaving home, she was giving them to my brother. This crushed me. I had not thought about the fact that running away from home would mean the loss of family privileges. But nonethe- less Ifinished packing and left the house with not so much as even a goodbye. Our house was built on a raised portion of ground with a concrete retaining wall running parallel to the road. Once outside the house, the stupidity of my decision hit me. What would I do? Where would I go? I finally decided that I would sit down behind the retaining wall and wait for my parents to come searching for me. They never came. I became desperate. I knew they loved me, at least I thought so, but they just let me go. Finally my dad came outside, walked to the retaining wall and called my name. He was standing right above me, but never looked down. He did not see me and soon returned to the house. After what seemed like all night (but probably only a few minutes), I decided that I would sneak around the house to see just how much I was missed. I crept around the back of the house, then across the driveway, and finally behind my dad's truck. Much to my disappointment, he was not even concerned. He was sitting at his desk doing the reports that he did each evening. I sat on the truck running board to ponder the situation. Finally I got up to take another look. Much to my surprise, the light was out and dad had apparently gone to bed. I stood there perplexed, pondering what to do now. Suddenly, I felt my feet leave the ground. The next thing I knew, I was turned around and facing a very angry dad. This episode earned me a good licking and, needless to say, I never ran away from home again. While living in this home in Bloomfield, I got interested in fishing. It was only a little over a mile down the railroad tracks to an old river bed. This was a rather shallow, elongated lake that was left when White River changed its course. For most of the year there was no moving water, and fish from this old river bed acquired a terrible taste from lying around in the mud. But, every spring heavy rain caused White River to overflow its banks, the water and the fish in the old bed would clear up, and the fish became good to eat. That was when I went fishing. I hit a good day and caught twenty-three carp. Carp is a boney fish. They taste good, but beware of the bones. The second day I caught nineteen fish and the third day seventeen fish. The fourth day I caught nothing. The fishing was over. We only lived at this house in Bloomfield for seven months. But while there, our next door neighbor, who was a trot line fisherman, caught a sixty pound catfish. That was the biggest fish I had ever seen. My dad bought afour-pound piece from the tail. He took it to a frozen food locker, had it frozen for a few weeks, and then we ate it. That was certainly good fish. Dad claimed that the freezing process improved the taste and texture of the fish. During the Christmas holiday of my fourth grade year we moved to the suburb of Bloomfield called Hashtown. We now lived outside the Bloomfield city limits. Consequently, we had to go to a township school. The school was called Furnace School. It was atwo-room school. One room housed grades 1-4 and the second room housed grades 5-8. One would think that such a school would not provide an adequate education. Quite the contrary was true. Modern education practices talk about the 6 graded system where a student is allowed to study at his own level. This is a necessary practice in a one or two room school. If a student needed help, the teacher would assign a capable student to provide assistance. If you were a good student, the teacher would name you as "Teacher's Aid" and assign you to help a struggling student. I was always good in math, so I was always working with classes behind and functioning as a "Teacher's Aid". But I was terrible at spelling and always being tutored by a "Teacher's Aid". Looking back, I have always felt that the two-room school was an asset rather than a hindrance. I was in the third grade when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. I don't think I really understood what that meant, but I did know that it really worried my parents. I do, however, remember black-outs, drills, rationing, and those types of things. But, the war did not directly affect me very much. My father and uncles were too old to be drafted and my cousins were too young. I don't believe that I had a single close relative in the armed forces during the war. After going to school at the Furnace School for one and a half years, my parents moved again and we attended another two-room school. This was Wildcat School. The five to eight grades teacher at Wildcat School was a man. Mr. Branstetter was a tall, thin man who talked with a harsh voice, and seldom smiled. He was a demanding teacher, a practicing disciplinarian, and I thought a very good teacher. My oldest sister hated Mr. Branstetter and still does to this day. Mr. Branstetter gave me many opportunities to function as a "Teacher's Aid" to younger students. I believe that Mr. Branstetter, more than any other teacher, influenced me to become a math teacher. While attending Wildcat School, we attended a small rural Methodist church called Allan's Chapel. My father did not believe in infant baptism, so none of us children had been baptized. The minister also did not believe in infant baptism so there were several young people that had not been baptized. The minister, and my parents, believed in total immersion. So in the summer after my 12`h birthday, about seven or 8 boys and girls and the minister dressed in white robes met on a Sunday afternoon on the bank of Richland Creek for a baptism service. Parents and friends were in attendance. The minister led the procession into the cool water. Then he formed us into a circle, and started the baptism ceremony. Individually the minister covered our mouth and nose with a white cloth, laid us backwards into the water until we were completely covered. Later, studying about John the Baptist in the bible, I realized that my baptism was very similar to the baptism of Jesus. It has become very meaningful to me. During my eighth grade year, I was involved in a very profound experience that has affected me all my life. My father always planted a very large garden and we children were expected to do our share of garden work. One Saturday morning, my father sent me to the garden to weed, hoe, and de-bug the potato patch. It was not one of my most enjoyable assignments. This was a large potato patch, about 40 yards long and about twelve rows wide. When I had gotten about half way down the first row, I found a copy of the Indianapolis Star newspaper blown under one of the potato plants. It was only the classified ad section but it was more interesting than weeding potatoes. So, I sat down 7 and started reading. It seemed that I had only started reading when my dad called stating that lunch was ready. I panicked. I knew that I was in trouble. Dad would want to know what kind of progress I had made, and I knew that one-half of a row was not good enough. I was sure the razor strap was coming. When I entered the kitchen, dad asked me how much of the potato patch I had finished. Reluctantly, and with great misgiving, I told him. He looked at me for a long time, then turned away and said, "You are going to grow up and beano good bum." His comment hurt much more than the anticipated licking. I have been accused of being a workaholic, but to this day I cannot set down during working hours without remembering his words. Once when he was "mature" and he and I were sitting and reminiscing, I brought up the incident. He did not remember that he had made such a statement but, he said, if he did he apologized saying that he was wrong. I think that incident helped me live by a good work ethic. Neither my mom nor my dad used tobacco or alcoholic drinks of any kind. It was just kind of accepted that we kids would follow in their footsteps. But dad left nothing to chance. At the conclusion of my eighth grade year, dad called me to a father-son pow- wow. He asked me to promise to never smoke or drink alcoholic beverages, at least until I had finished high school. As an inducement, he stated that he would give me my choice of a wrist watch or a bicycle if I would make such a promise. But there was a catch. If I ever broke the promise I had to return the gift. This was during World War II and I was delivering (walking) newspapers for four different paper routes. The arrangement offered me the opportunity to ride rather than walk the routes. There were times during my high school years that I was tempted to smoke or drink. But, the thought of the disappointment I would read in my dad's face when I would have to return the bicycle provided the challenge I needed. I never smoked or drank during high school or since. My dad made the same offer to my brother and two sisters. They all accepted his challenge. I went away to college. I think that my brother and one sister were tee- totalers. But, my youngest sister drank and smoked. She died of smoke influenced strokes. It was a very sad experience. I entered high school in the fall of 1945. World War II had just ended. During the war, most all the healthy and able men were inducted into the armed forces leaving mostly women and youths to supply the man-power for the work force at home. Driving age dropped from sixteen years old to fifteen years old. I got my driver's license as soon as possible. My dad was a gasoline distributor, and I began driving a gas truck on Saturdays and holidays. Dad was continuously worried that I would get sleepy while driving the gas truck. He instructed me that if I got sleepy I should pull to the side of the road and park the truck. Then I should take a short walk and a quick nap. He assured me that the rest and exercise would awaken me. One day when delivering gas to a farmer, I got so tired and sleepy that I decided that I had better take Dad's advice. After a short walk I made myself as comfortable as possible in the truck. Then I relaxed to take a short rest. I dozed off. When I awakened, 8 the sun was setting in the west. I knew that Dad would be worried, so I immediately started for home. I was right. Did was not home. He was out searching forme. The experience taught me to be very careful in the future. High school was a brand new experience. For three years I had attended two room schools. At the high school there was two floors and many rooms. The gym was considerably larger than the total area of the two elementary schools that I had attended. Also, at the high school we changed rooms every period. At the elementary schools, we stayed in the same room all day long. Also, we had physical education periods in a gym instead of recess on the playground. Since our class would graduate in 1949, exactly 100 years after the great California Gold Rush of 1849, we called ourselves "The Forty- Niners". Another novel happening was organized athletics. Our school competed in basketball, baseball, and track. I competed in all of these earning at least one letter in each sport. I never was a great athlete in any sport but was competitive enough to make the teams. Most boys and girls discovered the opposite sex in high school, but not me. The name of the game for me in high school was baseball, basketball, and track. Girls were not allowed to compete in any of these. However, they could earn a letter participating as cheer leader. I had my first date in the spring of my senior year. Marjorie Heaton was a cheer leader for the basketball team and I noticed her late in my junior year. I never had the courage to ask her for a date until the spring of my senior year. Finally I asked her if she would go to a movie with me. To my surprise she said yes. Now Marjorie lived about four miles out in the country and I had not even thought about transportation. I approached my Dad and asked if I could have the car for a date. I really did not think this would be a problem since I had been driving his gas truck for two years. But, much to my surprise, he said, "No". I put up an argument but, he informed me that I had made a mistake, I should have arranged for transportation first. Then I would be free to ask for a date. Finally he agreed to let me use the old gasoline truck but not the family car. I spent considerable time cleaning the old truck. But I never did garner enough courage to tell Marjorie about the travel arrangement. So, on the appointed date, I wheeled into her driveway in asix-hundred gallon gas truck. Marjorie, however, was a good sport. Her only comment about the truck was, "Well buster, there will be no running out of gas tonight". I was so embarrassed that I never asked another girl for a date until I was a sophomore in college. I was a pretty good student in high school graduating fifth in a class of fifty-five seniors. I was always pretty good in math classes. I hated English and literature classes primarily because of all the memory work that was required. Memory work did not come easily. I had to repeat memory segments many times before it locked into my head. We had to memorize portions of "Thanatopsis" and "Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner". But once I 9 have truly memorized something, it stays with me for a long time. In fact, I can still recite some of the memory work that was required in high school. I am very scared of electricity. This is probably due to an event that happened early during my high school years. My brother and I were at my Dad's gas bulk plant when one of his customers stopped by to see him. The customer was driving the prettiest and shiniest Model A Ford that I have ever seen. While my brother and I were admiring the car, the customer asked if we would like to sit in the car. We, of course, said we would. I grabbed the door handle, turned it, and received the shock of my life. The handle was wired to the Model A Ford's magneto which was activated when the door opened. I could not get loose from the handle. When I finally got loose, I had large kernels under my armpits. Ever since then I have been afraid of electricity. My mother was a nurse by profession and she specialized in private duty nursing which was usually anight-time job. Consequently, we kids were at school in the daytime and mom worked at night. Therefore, we seldom saw our mother for any length of time. While I was in high school mom became very ill. Dad spent a lot of time taking her to see various doctors. Eventually she was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease, also known as ALS. There was no known cure for ALS. Even to this day there is no known cure. By the time of my graduation date, she was unable to get out of bed. Although incapacitated physically, she was mentally alert. She started writing poetry, mostly religious poetry. Some of it was very good. She also kept a diary on the progress of her disease. My mother was a big lady, not fat, but tall with large bones. Her normal weight was about 170 pounds. She died on September 13, 1951. When she died she weighed about 70 pounds. I left home right after high school graduation. Three uncles and an aunt had graduated from Indiana Central College and had become teachers. That's what I wanted to do and where I wanted to go to college. ICC, as it was known, was a small religious college specializing in teacher education programs and pre-ministerial education. One of my uncles who had attended ICC was Uncle Art. He lived near the college. Uncle Art succeeded in getting me a summer job in the maintenance department at the college. So I was off to the big city to start my adult life. To start with, I did a lot of different menial jobs. Around July 1St, Roy, a new sophomore friend, and I were called into the office of the business manager. He told us that the school was hiring two professional painters to paint one of the dormitories. They needed two helpers and he wanted to know if we were interested in the jobs. Of course, we were thrilled. Therefore, I started my second vocation of painting. But Roy and I didn't get to do much painting. We cleaned each room, covered the floors with drop cloths, painted the closets, and then finished the room by painting the steam radiators and the steam water pipes. My first wage was fifty cents per hour. We must have received good training because the next summer we were hired as "The Painters". We did the painting at the college for three additional years after the initial year. By the way, I ended earning $6.25 per hour during the last year at college. This 10 was an exceptionally good rate at that time. Also, during the school months, I was offered apart-time job as school courier. I made trips to the bank for payrolls, picked up supplies, served as taxi driver for people who had business with the college. It was a very good part-time job. Classes started in September. I found out that even religious schools had a problem with students drinking alcoholic beverages. My Dad's bicycle gift had kept me straight in high school. The college biology teacher, Dr. Morgan, kept me straight in college. The first day Dr. Morgan entered the classroom he brought with him a large flat circular pan containing a large hog's head. This was a real dead hog's head. He informed us, the class members, that we would open the hog's head and explore the brain. Each member of the class took his or her turn with a hacksaw cutting around the skull of the head. When the students had completed the cutting, Dr. Morgan extracted the boney top from the skull. The brain sat inside the lower half of the skull. It retained shape, and form, and firmness. Each student had to take his or her turn at feeling, squeezing, and rubbing the exposed brain. At the end of the period, Dr. Morgan placed the brain in a large pot and covered it with a liquid. The next day was biology laboratory day. Dr. Morgan was waiting with the brain. Again we had to feel, squeeze, and rub the brain. But it was not possible. The pot contained a milky looking substance with no form. When we tried to pick the brain up, we found that it was a stringy jelly like mess that ran like worms between our fingers. Dr. Morgan looked at each of us and explained that the liquid he had used was alcohol and that this was what alcohol did to brain cells. He explained that he had covered the brain with 100% alcohol, that alcoholic drinks contained a small percentage of alcohol. Brain cells, when destroyed, never replace or repair themselves, alcoholic effects were cumulative and that alcohol does damage to the human brain very similar to the effects on the hog's brain. The next class day he took us on a field trip to the state alcoholic's sanitarium. There I saw people who could not tie their shoes, could not walk without help, and other pathetic things. I was permanently convinced. To this day I have never taken a drink of an alcoholic beverage. Bloomfield High School did not field a football team. When I went to college I intended to play college football. But the college football coach was not interested in me. He was afraid I would get hurt. He argued that I was too small because I weighed only 127 pounds, that I did not know how to defend myself because I had no experience. He knew that I had run distance events in track in high school and he tried to get me to join the college cross-country team. But I was adamant, I wanted to play football. Reluctantly he finally gave me a practice uniform. I became the laughing stock of the dressing room when I put my thigh pads on upside down. This mistake could have resulted in a painful injury. The football practice field was about 200 yards from the field house. I was walking along exploring my new equipment when a big player about 6 feet, 4 inches and approximately 240 pounds jogged past me. In his uniform he looked like Goliath. I looked at him for a minute, reached a decision, turned around and went back to the field house to check in my football equipment. I then checked out a set of track shorts. Thus ended my football career and started my cross-country career. Iran on three conference champion teams. The first year in college my roommate's name was Roger Rouse. But he thought I was a drag and he changed roommates at mid-term. My new roommate was my cousin, Norman Bright. Norman was much more of a "man of the world" than I was. At the end of the second semester he dropped out of school so I was left looking for a new roommate. The new roommate I found was Ralph Horn. Now Ralph was a character. He was friendly and gregarious and never met a person he didn't like. Each year he set a goal for himself (and sometime for others). His goal during that sophomore year was to see how many girls he could date and kiss. He made a large wall-size chart and dutifully recorded each conquest by name and with a star. By the end of the year Ralph had dated and kissed 76 girls. I believe that is the correct number. If not, it is close. I still did not date girls during my first two years in college. At the beginning of my junior year Ralph announced that his goal for the year was to have me married. He started almost immediately on the project. During the first week he maneuvered me into the campus cupboard, a small sandwich and coffee shop in the administration building. He blocked the entrance and told me that I was to pick a girl to be my date for the "Get Acquainted Dance" that was coming up the next week end. I informed Ralph that I didn't know how to dance and that I was not going to the party. But Ralph persisted. Finally I saw a cute girl in a green beany (the freshman signature) and in order to get away I stretched the truth and told Ralph that I had noticed her before. He insisted that I ask her to go to the dance but I told him "No". He came to the dorm that night and told me that her name was Myra Buck, that she lived off campus, and that she was waiting for my telephone call. He even gave me her telephone number. I told him that I was not going to call. The truth was that I really did not believe that he had talked to her. Saturday arrived and I spent the entire day unloading coal from a railroad train car to a truck, driving the truck to the college campus and then unloading the coat at the college. At about 7:00 p.m. I walked into my dorm completely covered with coal dust. Ralph hit the ceiling. He wanted to know what I was doing. He informed me that Myra was waiting for me. I told him that she wasn't waiting because I had never called her. Ralph was a big fellow, much bigger than I. He grabbed me by the collar and pushed me down the hall to the telephone booth, dialed her number, stuffed the phone into my hand, jumped out of the booth and spread-eagled himself across the booth door. Myra answered the phone and I was stuck. I'm not sure how I explained the late call but the end result was that I had a date. I hurriedly cleaned up and drove about five miles to Myra's home, met her parents, and then made it to the dance. I'm sure that I was a good date. After all, I was at a dance but didn't know how to dance. We did manage to talk 12 and get acquainted. And, to my surprise, I liked Myra. Later I found out that Myra had told her mother a little white lie. After I called her, her mother asked Myra if she knew me. Myra told her mother she did know me and that I was a nice boy. The truth is that we'd never actually met before. But that date eventually led to a marriage that has lasted 50 plus years. Myra and I continued to date but there was competition. Myra was also occasionally dating another boy who was a ministerial student. His name was Al Hawkins. I knew Al and I knew he was a very nice fellow. After a month or two I asked Myra to become my steady girlfriend. She told me that she was not ready to make such a commitment. I waited for what I considered to be a respectable length of time, and asked again. I got the same answer but this time I ended the discussion by telling Myra that she knew my feelings toward her, and if she changed her mind to let me know because I would not ask again. However, we did continue to see each other occasionally. Sometime later she told me that she was now ready to go steady. This announcement triggered the saving of money for the purchase of an engagement ring. Ralph Horn had both succeeded and failed. By the end of my junior year I was not married but I was engaged. My senior year was both a hard year and an exciting year. I decided that I should discuss marriage with Myra's parents. I felt that for a marriage to be successful a young couple should have the support of both sets of parents. My mother had died but I had discussed marriage with my dad and he was completely supportive. I skipped the chapel service to meet with Myra's father but he was not in his office. The next day I called his office to be certain that he was in, skipped chapel for the second day, and with shaking knees went to meet with Reverend Buck to seek his approval. I had visited in their home quite frequently and eaten many meals with them. Myra on several occasions had maneuvered me into doing the dishes for her while she needed to practice her music or had studies to do. But most of the time when I finished the dishes she was watching TV. After some discussion Dad Buck's primary comment was "You've seen how she manipulates you, and if you still want to marry her, I have no objections". Myra and I then began planning our wedding for the Tuesday following my college graduation. The date was set at June 9, 1953. I ran cross-country during the fall of my junior year. But at the end ofcross-country season I informed the coach that I would not run track in the spring. With marriage and the army both in the future I needed to earn some money. I took a job with U S Rubber Company making tubes for truck tires. This was a very difficult experience for me. I went to work at 11 p.m. and got off at 7 a.m. In addition I carried six hours of class work which included my student teaching. Making tire tubes was an interesting but difficult experience. The raw heated rubber was run through a large sausage grinder type machine. Instead of an outlet of several small holes the lone exit extruded one continuous piece looking like a large noodle. The interior of the noodle was sprayed with soapstone dust to prevent the inside from sticking together. The noodle was cut to the desired length and the two ends were molded together to make the tube. At another site the valve stem was added. Then the raw tube 13 was placed in a curing mold. The mold was closed and the raw tube was inflated with 360 degree super heated steam and then the mold closed. When the mold reopened, the mold operator (me) had to reach in, grab the tube, and toss it to an overhead conveyor. Sometimes because of various problems, the newly cured tube would disintegrate spraying the operator's arm with hot steam. Therefore I had to wear along-sleeve cotton sweat shirt to absorb the steam. Because of the high heat in the molds, the temperature in the curing lines remained consistently around 120 degrees. Imagine wearing a sweat shirt in 120 degree temperature. I worked at this job for about five and one-half months. I weighed about 127 pounds when I graduated from high school. During my college years I had gained weight to 158 pounds. When I graduated from college I weighed 127 pounds having lost 31 pounds while working the five and one-half months at U S Rubber Company. I had previously been informed by the draft board that I would be inducted into the armed forces on their first levy after my graduation from college. Military service presented a great problem. The sixth commandment prohibits the killing of another person. I realized that military service might involve active duty on a war front. I was not afraid of dying but I was afraid of killing. I investigated the possibility of becoming a conscientious objector but there was one question that really bothered me. I do no remember its exact working but in effect what it asked was if a foreign army invaded your county, and your wife and children were being raped and murdered, you would not lift a finger in defense. I worried and prayed about my answer to that question. I finally concluded that God would not want that to happen and neither would I. So I decided to put myself in God's hands. I resigned myself to military service. Although we did not have much money, we planned a short honeymoon. Myra had several relatives living in New Orleans. Myra's mother and father were moving from Indianapolis, Indiana to Bryan, Texas where Reverend Buck had accepted the position of minister for a new church that was being organized in Bryan. We then decided that for our honeymoon we would take a trip through the south and visit Myra's relatives living in New Orleans. The car I had was an old 1937 Ford sedan. I did not think that this car would survive such a trip. My dad was driving a late model Dodge sedan. I thought it would be a nice car for our honeymoon but I remembered the high school fiasco and I suspected that dad would not let me have the car. To my great surprise his answer was, "Sure, we'll exchange cars". We elected to go to New Orleans by way of the Smokey Mountains in Kentucky and Tennessee. After our wedding we left Indianapolis and drove south. Myra's father had given us a night's stay in a motel in southern Indiana. I do not remember the town but I do remember how tired we were and how thankful we were for the stop. The next morning we were driving in eastern Kentucky. We came around a mountain and come face to face with the most beautiful panorama that one could imagine. Beside the road was a beautiful valley with a foggy mist rising in front of green forested mountains. The sun was mid high behind us and illuminating the valley and hills. It was utterly beautiful. We decided to stop and take a picture. There was a nice green shoulder, or so we thought, beside the road. I pulled off to park. Suddenly the car dropped to the right. The car almost turned over. There was no shoulder there. The grass had been cut with a sickle bar level with the road. Myra was sitting in the right seat of the car. I was afraid to let her move fearing that any weight shift might cause the car to turn over. Eventually though we did succeed in getting Myra out of the car. A traveler stopped to help. He told us that he would stop at the next town and send a wrecker out to help us. When the wrecker arrived, the driver scratched his head and said he didn't know why the car had not rolled over. I didn't know either. I thanked God for His protection. When upright we entered Dad's car and continued our trip to the south but we were nearly broke financially. Thank goodness I did have a pay check waiting from the last week of work before starting the honeymoon trip. Since I was working at U S Rubber Company and had little time, I participated very little in the planning of our wedding. But when I quit the factory job I found that Myra and her parents and friends had everything under control. In order to insure that the marriage would last we had two ministers, Reverend Raymond Buck, Myra's father, and Reverend Fred Mehrtens, Myra's uncle, to perform the ceremony. Everything went well for the wedding except for the weather. The temperature was 104 degrees and there was no air conditioning in the church. Until the army called I decided to stay at Indiana Central College and paint. They agreed to hire me and pay me $5.50 per hour. Myra and I moved into a small upstairs apartment and started marking time until the draft board called. In a short time I was approached by a paint contractor who offered me $6.25 per hour to work for him. Knowing that I soon would be inducted into military service and Myra would be left to fend for herself, I felt that I needed to leave as big a nest egg as I could. I really worried about the offer. After all, the college had been very good to me. Finally I decided that Myra was my first priority. I made an appointment with Dr. Keck, the business manager of the college, and told him of my decision. Much to my surprise Dr. Keck replied, "If you are worth $6.25 per hour to that contractor, then you are worth $6.25 per hour to us." Wow! From $.50 per hour in 1949 to $6.25 per hour in 1953 was quite a jump. A college education really did make a difference! In late August I received my induction notice. I would receive my physical in Indianapolis on October 1 and then be shipped to Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri for basic training. All this, however, had to start in Bloomfield, Indiana since that was the county seat of Greene County where my hometown was. So Myra and I had to sever our Indianapolis ties and go to Bloomfield. It was agreed that Myra would go to Texas and live with her parents, brother and sister until my military service was fulfilled. The day of departure had come. After two and three-fourths months of married life, we had to separate. Travel arrangements for me were arranged by the draft board in conjunction with the military service. I was to be picked up by bus at Switz City, Indiana, a small town about ten miles west of Bloomfield. A bus line ran through Switz City but not through Bloomfield. My dad and step-mother, Ethel, took Myra and me to Switz City. Ethel was a very nice lady and a good mate for my father. As I was getting 15 on the bus, Myra was crying. Ethel told Myra that she should be brave and not cry because, as she put it, thousands of women had gone through this before. The comment did not sit well with Myra. For years I had run track and cross-country in high school and college. Also I had given some consideration to running the Boston Marathon. I only mention this as an explanation for almost failing the military physical. After completing the physical I was led to a small room where an army doctor was waiting. He informed me that my heart rate was 37 beats per minute. He told me that the rate was abnormally slow and asked if I knew of any reason for it. I explained that I did a lot of distance running and that my heartbeat had always been slow. He was satisfied and I was in the Army. In retrospect I might have avoided military duty if I had kept my mouth shut. Basic training was a drag. You could only do what you were told to do. You could only wear military issued clothing. In fact, daily military attire was posted on a bulletin board every morning. Everywhere you went you carried your rifle on your shoulder. You double-timed (ran) everywhere you went only to stand in line and wait. You learned that the rifle was your best friend. You cleaned it, you took it apart and put it back together over and over. And, yes, we had to learn to shoot that rifle. I thought it was a waste of time because I only intended to hide in a fox hole. The infiltration course got my attention. It was a large wide open field with parallel ruining paths and perpendicular runs of barbed wire entanglements. Machine guns were attached to swivel tripods at one end of the field. The training sergeant gave us the rules of the game. We were to crawl on our stomachs the length of the field. At each barbed wire obstruction we were to roll over on our back and wiggle under the wire. When through we would roll back on our stomachs and crawl to the next wire entanglement. We would repeat this process until we had crossed the field. This did not appear to me to be too hard until the Sergeant said, "Oh, by the way, be sure to stay low. We will be firing live ammunition two feet above ground level." This caught my attention. The bullet speed was too fast to see but you could heat it as it passed over head. We also had to go through the infiltration course at night. At night every fifth bullet was a tracer bullet. You could see it coming and going. It was sort of like a horizontal July fourth fireworks. The Sergeant told us to be very careful. He informed us there were rattlesnakes in the area and that we should visually inspect the crawl spaces under the barbed wire before crawling through. I never saw a snake but I can tell you with all assurance that I would have tangled with the snake before I would have faced the bullets from those machine guns. I hadn't liked the Army before entering the service. I didn't like it any better after finishing basic training. After basic training I was to have atwo-week leave. Joy! Joy! I was going to Texas to spend two weeks with Myra. 16 After finishing the last day of basic training, we had to turn in all of our equipment. This meant more hours of standing in line. When finished, we were all anxious to get started on our leave time. But, alas, more army red tape. Our leaves were to start the next day which would not start until after midnight. We could not start our trips to home or wherever but the generous Army would give us evening passes to Waynesville. Now Waynesville was a small village outside of Fort Leonard Wood. From my viewpoint it was a village dedicated to the task of separating G. I.'s from their money. I decided not to go to Waynesville but stay in camp and visit the base library instead. I was not aware at the time that I had just made a life decision. That one decision was to change the direction of my whole life. In the post library I just ambled around picking up and thumbing through books, magazines, and newspapers. One of the magazines I picked up was a current copy of Life Magazine. One of its featured articles was a ten page spread containing pictures and articles about a new ultra-modern school building in College Station, Texas. Since I intended to be a teacher, I decided to read the entire article. It told of a school with all glass exterior walls and moveable partitions for interior walls. The interior space could be changed as desired. The article was intriguing but Texas was so far away that I shrugged my shoulders and forgot about Texas. When I went to Texas to visit Myra in Texas I was driving around seeing the sights of Bryan and driving down College Avenue when I drove out of the city limits and passed through pasture land inhabited with a herd of cows. While still driving down College Avenue I came to a sign which read, "College Station City Limits". The name was familiar but I could not remember how I knew the name of "College Station". Suddenly I remembered this was the town that I had read about in Life Magazine. I decided that I would stop and visit the school. It was a week end and I did not expect to meet anyone. But I walked around the buildings and looked in the windows. Suddenly a man came out of one of the buildings and asked if he could help me. I think we were both surprised to see each other. I explained to him that I was in the army and was on leave visiting my wife. I had read the Life Magazine article and since I was a licensed teacher I had decided that I would visit the school I had read about. The man identified himself as Dr. Les Richardson, the Superintendent of the school. He invited me in to see the facilities. When I got ready to leave, he suggested that I might like to come to College Station to teach. I did not take it very seriously since he did not know me, had not seen a diploma, and did not even know for sure that I had a teaching degree. I replied that I didn't know, it might be O.K. When my leave was over, I returned to Fort Leonard Wood. Back on the base I met a young officer named Charles Hamilton. We spent some time talking and one interesting thing he told me was that he was in the process of making arrangements to move off the post. I didn't know you could do such a thing but I sure was interested. So was Myra because by this time our young daughter, Janice, was about three months old. 17 I did investigate the possibility and found that if I met the requirement, it was possible. I don't remember what the requirements were but I did qualify. So we made plans to find a home in Rolla, Missouri. Myra had only one requirement. Whatever I found to rent had to have indoor plumbing. I don't remember how I found the house, but I found a two story duplex on the edge of the town of Rolla, Missouri. The house was owned by a local medical doctor whose name was Underwood. This was a unique house built into a hillside in such a manner that each level was entered from outside ground level. We lived in the upper apartment and entered from the upper level. Out neighbor in the lower apartment was not the best of neighbors. He seemed to complain about everything. He also liked to hunt and was always asking me to go quail hunting with him. I was not very interested in hunting but one day in an effort to get him off my back I agreed to go with him. That day I learned what a poor hunter I was. Every time we raised a quail we both shot. After each shot he said, "Another hit. I sure am good today". By the end of the day we had several birds but they all belonged to him. Needless to say I never went hunting with him again. Fort Leonard Wood was several miles west of Rolla so I had to commute each day. One night I had a very serious stomach cramp. I really was in a lot of pain. We decided to catch Dr. Underwood on his way to work. When Dr. Underwood exited his home we stopped him and explained my problem. We explained that we were worried about possible appendicitis. He listened but said that he thought that I just had a bad case of gas cramps. I'm not sure why he changed his mind but later in the morning he called and said I should get to the hospital as soon as possible. That day I lost my appendix. Early in basic training, my unit was on a march drill. The drill sergeant gave us a column right command. Everyone went right except me. For some unknown reason I went left. It caused a small traffic jam. The sergeant approached me and inserted a sizeable rock in my right side pocket. "Now soldier", he said, "When you hear right, you go toward the rock." "Another thing:, he said, "Any time I ask for the rock you better have it in your right side pocket." On the drill field at discharge we were lined up in drill formation and the Sergeant called, "Attention" and everyone snapped to attention. Then he commanded, "Soldier with the rock in your pocket, step out." I was so shocked that I almost did not step out but, thank goodness, I did. The sergeant stepped in front of me and held out his hand. I reached in my pocket, pulled out the rock and handed it to him. He took the rock and turned it over several times in his hand. Then he said, "It is the rock". He sounded very surprised. Then he stepped back, looked me in the eye, and said, "Soldier, you don't know how lucky you are. If you had not had that rock with you, you would not be going home, you would be spending another month with me". After basic training I was assigned to the Finance Corps. Each month a money shipment arrived at Fort Leonard Wood. This was payroll and operational funds for the next month. It was always new money from the Federal Reserve Bank. The finance officer made those of us assigned to the finance office open each bundle and count the bills. This involved thousands of dollars. Sitting all day and counting new bills was boring. It seemed like a useless task to me. 18 Some days I functioned as a bank teller. At other times I functioned as a bank guard. Anything happening around the post bank required armed guards. Armed guards walked the perimeter twenty-four hours a day. I took my turn but I did not particularly like that duty. I just could not get use to carrying a loaded gun all day long. One day I was assigned as payroll clerk at the finance office. A colonel came to the desk. He was being shipped to a military base in Alaska. For some reason service men transferred to the Alaska area received advance pay orders before they left Fort Leonard Wood. This colonel had been in the army for a long time. His advanced pay orders involved several hundred dollars. I counted out the money, got his signature, and then turned to do something else. When I turned back around, the colonel was gone but his money was still on the counter. I inquired from others in the office concerning his whereabouts. They informed me that he had left to catch a bus. Then someone informed me that he was standing at the bus stop and that the bus was coming. I grabbed the bundle of money and ran toward the bus stop shouting all the way, "Stop that bus". The driver got the message and stopped the bus. I gave the officer his money, expecting some sort of expression of thanks for the delivery of his money. Instead, I found myself standing tall listening to the officer accuse me of trying to hide the money so that I could return later to pick it up and keep it. But the bus driver was anxious and had to leave taking the colonel with him. That ended the money affair. The next year after my chance meeting with Superintendent Les Richardson of the College Station School District, I received a letter from him stating "According to my records, last year I offered you a teaching job. That offer is still open. I'm writing to inquire if you're interested." I told him that I would be interested but I was still in the Army and not available. He told me that the army was not a problem. He stated that he could get me an early discharge because of teacher shortage. During my work in the military finance office, I had seen military records of G.I's who had taken early releases after World War II only to be called back to military duty during the Korean War. I told him that I intended to finish my military obligations in such a manner that I would not face military service again. Therefore I was not available. He asked me to think about it and if I changed my mind to call him back. I never called. Since Myra was pregnant with our second daughter, Kathryn, and expecting about the time I was due to be released from the Army, I applied and got a job teaching and coaching in the Rolla Junior High School. Near the mid-term I again received a call from Dr. Richardson. He informed me that he had a female math teacher who was pregnant and was leaving employment at mid year. He asked me to come to Texas to finish the year. I told him that I had a contract for the school year at Rolla and could not come. He asked if I was planning to stay in Missouri to which I answered, "No". He said then breaking a contract won't be problem. But I felt a contract was a contract and would not go. He was persistent. He contacted me sometime later and said he had a math teacher position open for the next year. Since Myra's parents were still living in Bryan and they 19 wanted us to move closer to them and since Myra was in complete agreement with their wishes, I decided that a move to Texas would be a good idea. Especially since Texas A&M was in College Station and this would enable me to get a master's degree in education without making another move. In my mind I thought if things didn't work out we could always move back to Indiana. My teaching math at the College Station School District was such an enjoyable one. I had such good students in my classes, good teachers as co-workers, and such good neighbors as friends that we have never even thought of returning to Indiana. During that first year I had two very capable algebra students. They were much smarter than I was. One day I received a letter from Sam Houston College, now a University. It was an invitation to bring a team of two students to compete in an algebra math contest to be held at the college. I talked to the freshmen boys and both were interested in competing in the contest. The next step was to get administrative approval. I talked to my principal. He thought the contest was appropriate and proceeded to make arrangements for our trip. I learned that one of the competing high schools was Bellaire High School from Houston. I had heard about Bellaire High School and knew that it was one of the most respected schools in the State of Texas. Nevertheless, we were still going. On competition day my two students and I checked in at the college. After completion of all the usual paperwork, all contestants went to the testing area and sponsors went to a visitation area. I sat down at a table and a female sponsor from, you guessed it, Bellaire High School sat down across from me. She introduced herself and then asked for my name and where I was from. Her comment was, "Isn't that the small high school across from the golf course in College Station?" I told her that she was correct. Then she offered her opinion that it surely must be difficult to find two junior or senior students in such a small school that could compete with students from larger schools. I was stunned. "Juniors or seniors?", I stammered. I thought the contest was for freshmen. " I have two freshmen students", I told her. "Oh, my", she exclaimed and then added "But they will get good experience for future contests." At the completion of the contest, test papers were taken to a grading area. I asked my two students for their evaluation of the test. They both thought they had done well. Allen, the better of the two students thought that he had everything correct. If he didn't it was because of carelessness, he said with confidence that he knew everything. By the conclusion of lunch the tests were graded and the results were reported. A&M Consolidated High School was announced as the tournament winner with one contestant having a perfect score. Allen had called it correctly. He had the perfect score. I looked across the table at the Bellaire teacher. She just glared at me in stunned silence. The Sam Houston administrator in charge of the contest shook hands with me and expressed his appreciation of our students. He said that when a student can make a perfect score the test must be too easy. He assured me that the test would be more difficult next year and he hoped that I would bring back the same two contestants next year. 20 I came back next year and brought the same two boys with me. After the test was finished, I asked Allen for his evaluation. He admitted the test was harder but he insisted that he again had a perfect score. When the results were reported A&M Consolidated had again won and Allen indeed had another perfect score. For several years after that, every time I would meet a math teacher from Sam Houston, he would inquire if I had another Allen but in all my 30 plus years of teaching math, I never had another Allen. I have had many good math students but not another with his natural abilities. A&M Consolidated eventually decided to offer calculus as a math subject. But there were no textbooks offered by the state for high school calculus. I really felt that we had capable students and that we should make calculus available to our students. Upon checking state requirements, we found that we could teach high school calculus, but we would have to get approval from the state. Since there were no state textbooks, we would have to submit in writing our proposal. I got the task of doing that. I outlined a proposal, then searched through calculus literature for information and problems that I thought would be appropriate for such a course. The principal and superintendent surveyed the manuscript and then forwarded it to the state for approval. It was approved at the state level so we started offering beginning calculus to our students. The first year we had a senior who wanted to take the course but the class time was in conflict with a subject that he had to have for graduation. I talked with the student and parents and offered to teach an individual class for him during our lunch hour. I outlined some requirements. The student and parents both accepted the requirements. So he and I had a "Lunch calculus experience". Later he took an advanced calculus course at Texas A&M. He told me that he had no trouble with calculus at A&M. He completed an engineering degree at Texas A&M and helped build the Alaska oil pipeline. I had reservations about a "Lunch calculus experience" but he was very reliable in completing his homework assignments, and asking pertinent questions and always attended our lunch hour meeting. His success has always made me feel good. Shortly after I arrived at A&M Consolidated, girls in the school became interested in football. Several girls wanted to have a "Powder Puff 'football game for girls after completion of the boys' season. They argued successfully that such a game would increase their knowledge of football. The superintendent finally gave his approval. I knew very little about football myself but since I had coached Junior Varsity Football for one year, I was asked if I would coach one of the girls' teams. I was appointed to coach the junior girl's team. To my surprise I found that there were three girls on the team that could run faster than most boys. So, when the game was played, the junior girls handily defeated the senior team. 21 The next year ,the former junior girls, now senior girls were decided favorites. I was appointed to coach the senior team. I knew that the senior girls were decided favorites. I felt sure that the principal, Referee Taylor Riedel, would use every possibility to even up the teams. So we planned a secret play for the game. Sure enough, Mr. Riedel called every foul possible and he delighted in marching off penalties that kept the senior girls from scoring. Finally it was time for our "secret play". I sent a substitute into the game with instructions to the quarterback to call the "secret play". The team broke the huddle and lined up, but the quarterback was lined up in the fullback position and the fullback was lined up in the quarterback position. The fullback turned quarterback lined up behind the center, started calling numbers, then straightened up, looked at Mr. Riedel, then in a loud voice shouted at Mr. Riedel, "You have been calling unnecessary fouls against us. I am calling a foul against you, give me the ball." The center handed the ball to the quarterback. She started taking big steps down the field, counting them loudly as she marched, "1, 2, 3, ...". When she reached 10, she started running and stopped at the end of the field. All linemen had been in position, the center "handed" snapped the ball to the fullback, and the fullback carried the ball into the end zone. It was a legal play. I called the quarterback and the fullback together to inquire why they had switched positions. It seems that the quarterback had chickened out and so the fullback exchanged positions so that the play would work. I am not sure which year it was, but one of the two years I was accosted by a parent after the game who was irate because he thought that I had not allowed his daughter to have enough playing time. While trying to reason with him, he suddenly hit me in the face with his fist, knocking me down an incline. The incident created quite a stir and Mr. Riedel insisted that I bring chazges against him. But I didn't feel that such an action would accomplish anything and would probably only hurt the daughter. But the incident did put a stop to Powder Puff games for a few years. It also ended my football coaching cazeer. I also coached high school boys and girls track. I had a very good girl high jumper. Her name was Julia Crawford. She usually won first place in high jump in most track meets. She also placed high in the state tournament. I had a boy who became a good discus thrower. His name was David Parsons. When David was first learning to throw the discus, he asked if he could take the discus home during the summer. When I asked him if he had gotten his dad's approval, he said he had not even told his dad about working with the discus. I knew that the Pazson family had several wire fences close to the barn on their property. I was afraid that he might tear up the fences with the discus. I told him to discuss the situation with his dad. He talked to his dad and then told me the result of their talk. He said his dad looked over the pasture area and said it was O.K. because the fence was so faz away that he would never be able to hit it. When he returned to school in the fall, he elatedly told me that he had torn the fence to pieces. I really knew very little about how to throw a discus. But at that time Randy Matson was throwing the discus at Texas A&M. Randy invited David to work out with him at the A&M practice field. David became a very good discus thrower. He won first place at many track meets and placed as high as second place in the state tournament. He set the 22 school record for A&M Consolidated and held that record for several years. But I cannot accept much credit for his success. Randy Matson spent much time working with David and contributed significantly to David's success. During the latter years of teaching I served as Chairman of the Math Department. In order to help our students as much as possible, I encouraged the teachers in the Math Department to make themselves available both before and after school hours to provide extra help for students with difficulties. But there were some students who would not do their homework assignments and would not come in for extra help. These students generally had low grades. One year our superintendent retired and the district employed a new superintendent. The new superintendent called me in for a meeting. He wanted to know why we had students with failing grades. I explained that most students with low grades just did not do their homework assignments. He wanted to know what efforts had been made to rectify the problem. I told him that parents had been notified and that teachers came early and stayed late to help students with difficulties. A few days later he called me in for another meeting. He outlined a new policy that he was implementing to improve grades. He did not say "to improve student learning". His new approach was as follows: Any student receiving a failing grade could make up any failed work and take a retest to improve his grade. The extra work and retest could be accomplished any time before graduation. I was stunned. I could not begin to comprehend all the extra work and record keeping that would be necessary to implement this action. I tried to reason with him but he was adamant. I knew that I could not work under that arrangement. It would not be good for either I or the students. I had enough teaching years to retire so after considerable though I decided to retire. I really was not ready to retire. I enjoyed working with the students so much. But I knew that I would be very unhappy under the new arrangement. So I submitted my resignation and started the paperwork for retirement. Shortly after retirement I received a letter through the mail . The letter was written on school stationery but was unsigned. The letter informed me that the District was creating a new half-time position of Energy Manager and encouraging me to make application. I was very interested but there was one requirement for which I was not qualified. The applicant would have to be computer knowledgeable. As a math teacher I did not like either computers or calculators as education devices. They allowed you to obtain answers without learning anything. So I never learned how to operate a computer. Myra, however, was retiring from Texas A&M at the same time and she was very computer knowledgeable. I suggested to her that we apply for the job together. She could do the computer work and I would do the leg work. Her comment was that they would never agree to such an arrangement. Nevertheless, I told her I was going to ask. I approached the administration with the idea. They thought for a while and then informed me that they had never thought about such an arrangement but if we were interested we should both turn in a resume. My thoughts were, "thirty years or so ago I had been offered a job without ever, applying and now after working here I had to apply for a job?" Nevertheless, we did apply as a team and after an interview and several weeks we 23 were informed that the job was ours if we were still interested. We were of course interested and accepted the job. I'm sure that everyone that has taught has a litany of excuses from students concerning lack of homework assignments. Most of these are just toss-away reasons. However, I had an excuse from one student that was so unique that I have never forgotten it. This event occurred after one rainy night. The student, I forget his name, came into the classroom stating that he did not have his homework but that he had a good reason. He said that he was in the FFA and his animal project was raising a calf. He stated that he had put his homework assignment in his shirt pocket and gone into his back yard to feed his calf. When he bent over the assignment fell out of his pocket. His calf could not tolerate foreign objects in his pen. When the calf saw the assignment paper on the ground, he ran and stomped the paper into the mud. He said that he knew I would not accept the muddy paper, so he threw it away. But, I got a measure of vengeance against the calf. When he was butchered I bought a chunk of beef and we ate part of him. I received my college degree from Indiana Central College. The presence of Texas A&M offered me the opportunity of getting a master's degree. Such a degree would open the possibility of becoming a principal. I think the thrust of becoming a principal was the desire for more money. In any event I got my master's degree in School Administration. I immediately began to think about a principal's job. The superintendent resigned and Mr. Riedel moved up to superintendent. I immediately applied for the vacant principal's job. But Mr. Riedel, the new superintendent, was reluctant to give me the principal's job. He basically had two reasons. One was my lack of experience and the second was that he felt that I, as he put it, did not have the personality to be a principal. He told me that I was too kind hearted and meek. He said that a principal sometimes had to make hard and unpopular decisions. But I insisted and finally he agreed to recommend me for the job to the school board. I got my initiation early. The circular dome was being used as a staging area for the band. During band period band members left personal items in the building while they practiced on the football field. Someone was entering the building and stealing items. It got so bad that I decided that I would have to do something drastic. I took a dollar bill to the office, gave it to the secretary and had her record the serial number. I had the custodian place an 8' x 4' piece of plywood across the ceiling rafters in the circular dome. On the floor I placed a pair of trousers with a billfold containing the dollar bill. Then I climbed on the plywood perch and waited and dozed off to sleep. A noise awakened me and I saw a boy going through the pair of pants that I had placed on the floor beneath my perch. I watched until I saw him take the dollar from the billfold. Then I jumped from the plywood and grabbed him by both shoulders. I asked what he was doing stealing money from the students. He said he hadn't stolen anything. I told him to give me the billfold and told the secretary to get the slip with the serial number. The billfold had the dollar bill with the same number that the secretary had previously 24 recorded. The student never admitted that he had stolen the dollar but the incident stopped the problem in the dome. As time went on I discovered that Mr. Riedel had been right. I did not like the principal job. At the first opportunity I returned to a math teaching job. I have not been teaching for several years. But my oldest daughter, Janice, has been a very successful math teacher. She teaches at A&M Consolidated Middle School. I occasionally help her with a math problem and on rare occasions help with paper grading. Janice's daughter, Christel Attaway, has been teaching at College Hills Elementary School for two years. She has resigned and is relocating in the New Braunfels area. Our youngest daughter, Kathryn, and her daughter, Jaclyn, are both employed in accounting type jobs at Texas A&M. Janice's son, Dean, played football at A&M Consolidated High School and is now a junior at Stephen F. Austin University studying Forestry. Myra and I together still fill ahalf--time job at the district as Energy Managers. At this writing we are in our sixteenth year as Energy Managers. We keep records and information involving utility consumption. This job has kept me in touch with the activities of teachers and students in the district. A&M Consolidated School District has been a great work experience for me. I am thankful for the friends and work opportunities that I have experienced. I know that I am getting older but I hope that I can continue the many fine years that I have enjoyed. 25