Monday, August 25, 2014

What I Loved About Sundays.......


Driving home from the museum, top down, basking in the West Texas sun, radio blaring, the Craig Morgan song, Thats What I Like about Sundays, came on.  It took me back to Sunday nights, long ago, growing up on the coast and attending First Baptist Church which was the center of everything we did. 

Sunday nights were special.  Our church had a class called Training Union which everyone out of the cradle and not yet in college attended.  It wasn’t like the Catholic’s catechism, it was more like a class on character building. After Training Union, was the hour long, sometimes much longer church service.  We usually sat with the Grayson’s who had a daughter a couple of years younger than me.  But that wasnt what made Sunday nights special.

After church, rotating each week, we either went to the Grayson’s for ice cream, cake and coffee, or to our house.  Sarah especially liked coming to our house because we had a den and a television.  Her father had been in the Air Force and their house was a smaller version of a military base.  Everything was in perfect order.  Floors were tile and shiny, furniture lined up against the walls, clean plain walls, every thing in perfect order…and with all that order, there was no place for a TV.  

Our two families were not the only ones who participated in this Sunday night ritual, Mr. Powell, and another teacher, Mr. Bray came as well.  Mr. Powell was serious, carefully thought out, well read and middle aged.  Mr. Bray was young, single, a bit flippant and bordered on being a know it all.   

On the nights at the Grayson’s, there were always discussions about current happenings in the world.  Sarah and I would go to the kitchen to get our cake and ice-cream and try to hide out there.  Before we could get settled though one of our mothers would call us, insisting that we join the conversation….and Mr. Powell, the facilitator, made sure we were involved, asking us questions and wanting our childish viewpoint.  

On the good nights Mr. Bray would make some outrageous statement, Mr. Powell would pounce and the debate would be off with hardly anyone getting a word in edgewise.  Those were the nights Sarah and I loved.  When the discussion got to fever pitch we would slip out the door and walk the half a block and around the corner, to my house to watch TV.

One such night, it had rained off and on all day.  The discussion had gotten to a fever pitch earlier than usual since Mr. Bray had ridden from church to the Grayson’s with Mr. Powell.  Sarah and I decided to ditch the cake and ice cream and head for my house immediately.  There was heavy cloud cover and it being fall, especially dark.   The trees, blowing in the wind, with their leaves fluttering, made creaky noises and cast spooky shadows on the street ahead.  Feeling scared about walking in the dark, we decided to hold hands and sing Amazing Grace.  

A car door slammed, then a shutter banging, pushed our fright to a fever pitch. Almost to the door of my house, the neighbor’s huge German Shepherd came running, barking, from the bushes, into the street, straight at us.  I took off running, as hard as I could, screaming, with Sarah, who was also screaming, pushing me from behind.  I got to the door, slammed the key in the door and just as I did, Sarah, not watching me… but rather looking back at the dog, slammed into me, breaking the key in half…in the lock.  The dog looked as surprised as me. About the time I thought we were dead, the dog recognized me as the girl next door, and trotted back to his porch.  It had started to rain again, and not being able to get in to the house, we headed back to the Grayson’s house, this time at a dead run.  

We walked in drenched and had to explain to my dad what had happened to the key.   Looking over to the table we realized not only did we not get to watch TV…..the cake and ice cream were gone too….then my dad stood up and announced we really needed to get home.  

The years passed, Sarah and I went off to college, the Grayson’s moved away and the Sunday night ritual became a thing of the past. I still remember fondly those evenings…….that’s what I loved about Sundays.......

  1. Cut and paste to hear Craig Morgan’s song, “That’s what I like  about Sundays”
  2. www.youtube.com/watch?v=pm3aCyRD3Vg

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Dorm Move in Day...70s Style



The summer heat had once again caused our central air to roll over on its back and die.  In desperation we decided to take drive to stay cool until the breezes of the West Texas evenings sifted in.  We drove by the campus of Texas Tech University.  The “Garage Mahal” stood with lights ablaze but only one or two cars inside.  (It earned its name from the four million spent to provide a four level parking garage for faculty.)  The few maintenance workers driving by seemed to be leaving for the day. Grounds workers were putting the finishing touches on the new graduate student housing building, as the huge star sculpture in the courtyard blinked its continuing changes of colors. The parking lots were vacant, with only a random car parked close to a sculpture, where someone had stopped to take pictures...all was quiet.

Fall brings amazing changes.  The reprieve of cool breezes from the searing West Texas heat is one of the most anticipated.  Dorm Move in Day though comes first.  In the blink of an eye, every bike rack is full, and the parking lots have people circling for the closest spot. Then there are the freshmen.  Freshmen girls travel in large herds..all too unsure of themselves to go anywhere alone….not three or four girls but rather six or eight.  They are easy to spot, they all are carrying purses.  Not yet having mastered the idea of minimalism, they are still trying to show off their latest designer treasure. They look around nervously to make sure they look like the other girls in the group, their newest best friends, ones they have know for perhaps a day.  The boys are much the same in herds, only their herds tend to lean on walls and cars…..waiting for the girl herd to travel their way.  In the end their is mingling.

The upperclassmen are visible too.  They are taking their afternoon runs on campus….no purses of course….they have their debit card, IDs and phone stashed invisibly on their person.  They veer irritably around the herds and mingling.  College is a world of its own, a society of peers, an artificial environment that will never be experienced again in their lives…but always remembered as the best time of life.

On family vacations my parents were careful to point out all the universities.  Depending on where we had traveled the summer before, that was the university I had chosen.  Vanderbilt, U of Washington, U of Wyoming, U of Montana with the big M on the side of the mountain all looked inviting.   We stayed in Lubbock each summer as we headed west.  As I got closer to college, I realized seeing all the out of state universities had been nothing but a tease since my parents said I had to stay in the state.  Texas Tech was as far away from home as I could get and stay in the state.  I was happy with Tech as my choice…the ten hour drive from the coast made it seem plenty far away.

Senior Skip day I went with my friend Kay, to see Lamar University, where she planned to attend.  We were going to stay in the dorm with her sister, Shelly.  We were driving all the way from LaMarque to Beaumont alone which made the adventure seem that much more real.

We were welcomed aloofly by her sister and friends, we felt kind of lost, clutching our purses and looking for a friendlier herd to hang out with.  When dinnertime came we headed with Shelly and her friends to a pizza place that was popular with the college crowd.  As we talked, I became the subject of attention because I was not going to attend Lamar.  One of the girls I had been a twirler with when she was in high school,  Joy, asked where I was going to college. "Texas Tech University," I told her.  Leaning her head back she roared with laughter, 
“YOU are so spoiled, you will never make it!” she yowled.  Everyone started laughing.  She continued… “You have never been away from your parents, you have never had to share a bedroom, you have always had a car….you will never  be able to stay away from home without all your perks.  She will be home after one semester, don’t ya think?” she said as she threw the question to the crowd.  There was laughing and agreement, being embarrassed, I decided to just leave it out there, and not comment.

When graduation was over my mom and I flew to Washington State to spend the summer with my grandfather who was dying of cancer.  A summer at a nursing home, out of touch with my friends, was a good break from the old life to the new.  

When we got back, my mom drove me to Lubbock…..a WEEK before dorm move in day.  As was always with my mother, she didn’t want any distractions as she prepared for her school year, so I was dumped, at the empty dorm, Stangel Hall, with a closed cafeteria, no one there but the Resident Assistants and staff. 
Not having a “herd” to roam with I spent the days looking out my sixth floor window, going to the snack machine for meals and feeling very homesick.  I thought about what Joy had said and made up my mind to not be defeated.  

Dorm move in day finally arrived.  My door was closed, I heard a key slip into the slot.  It swung open and a tiny girl stood in front of me and in the loudest voice I had ever heard screeched, “Hidy I’m Agnes Bean!!!”  This was my roommate.  

I was extremely apprehensive.  Helping her move in were her boyfriend Angus, her sister Heidi, her mother, father and assorted other people.  My mom had insisted that I bring only the bare necessities but Agnes had brought everything she had owned, probably from infancy.  In a mere hour, her side of the room was so packed with stuff it looked like a state fair shooting booth with the prizes arranged along the wall. My side was empty except for the closet.  

Our dorm rooms had a single phone connected by a wire by the window between out two desks. From that moment on the phone rang constantly with calls from Angus.  If Angus wasn’t calling Agnes, Agnes was calling Angus.  And since I knew no one else, when she was at the dorm, I was with her.  We  had no television, my parents had determined, a television, distinctly, would be a distraction. So, I listened to Agnes talk…and talk…and talk about Angus.  She was from a tiny town in the Panhandle with about 6,000 people. To hear her talk, you would have thought she had come to Paris to study at the Sorbonne.  

As people began to arrive, much relieved, I started making an effort to meet other people, all of them asking me if Agnes and I had gone to high school together.    I made it very clear she was my “pot luck” roommate.

Then there were the “Beckies”, Small Becky, Tall Becky and Skinny Becky. Small Becky was like a Banny rooster.  She was the youngest of eight kids and evidently had ruled the roost.  Tall Becky was an upperclass transfer from a junior college, disgusted with all of us, and Skinny Becky was quiet and a lot like me.  Within the week I met Leslie from Fort Worth. Each day I seemed to meet someone further down the hall.  Leslie and I took off and explored the campus.  She walking to all of her classes, then I walking to all of mine.  The weekend consisted of hard partying. With girls running down the hall screaming, playing cards, teaching each other the newest Michael Jackson dance...all in the hall.  Then at 1 a.m. those with boyfriends came in from dates, joining the chaos that continued on until 3 a.m.   I spent the evening amazed at all that was going on, goofing off with  Leslie and Little Becky.  

It was while walking down the hall that I first heard the battle cry, “PANTY RAID.”  All the doors flung open on the left side of the hall and girls ran like a fire drill to rooms on the right side of the hall.  As I looked in the rooms, the windows were opened to their widest and out of the windows, all I could see were two rear ends in each window.  There was screaming and yelling from inside and out.  We were on the 6th floor so I couldn't imagine what on earth was happening.   About that time I ran into Little Becky telling everyone what to do. “What is going on???? Why is everyone hanging out the windows?”  To which Little Becky replied, handing me a pair of paper panties, 
“Write you phone number on these and throw them out the window!”
“Whaaaat???? Why would I do that?  
“Guys!! There are guys down there and one of them will get them and call you for a date.”
“Whaaaat? Who are they, I don’t even know them.”
“You don’t know anyone, so just do it.”  So I wrote my phone number on the paper panties, and then squeezing my way into my window now filled with two girls I had yet to meet, I tossed them down…a really cute guy catching them….then hollering up as he looked at me, “Are these yours?”  To which I smiled and waved.

Leslie had gotten a call from the panty raid too, so we secretly arranged to meet our panty raid dates at the same time in the same place.  They were fun guys who lived in the adjoining dorm.  They would become friends that we would meet in the cafeteria for meals.

Leslie had this whole dating in college thing down to an art.  In the 1970s, the women’s dorms didn’t allow men in the rooms. When a guy came to call for a date he could not come to her room.  He had to call from a bank of phones by the double doors downstairs in the lobby.  Leslie told me,  “Never tell a blind date what you are wearing, you ask him what he is wearing.  That way if you walk through the doors, see they are too disgusting then you just keep on walking…go in the phone booth…fake a call and then go back through the doors.  They will never know they have just been stood up.”  The method worked fine for everyone except me, by the time I got back up to the room, Agnes had answered the 2nd phone call from my goofy blind date and told him that I had just walked back in. Busted.


When classes started on Monday,  the strangest transformation took place.  Where everyone had been dressed like models, make-up, hair, and glitz, on Monday morning everyone had transformed into clones of each other, blue jeans, Tech T-shirts, droopy hair, no make-up and stumbling to 7:30 am classes without speaking.  

Since I had never owned a pair of jeans, and since Home Economic majors were required to “dress appropriately” I was dressed nicely and was distinctly, out of place. It was that morning that I saw another girl, dressed like me at the other end of the hall.  She was gorgeous.  Her hair was so thick and pretty that she had already acquired the name “The girl with the hair”.  Her make-up was perfect, clothes everything was like a model.  I observed her for several days, she was always beautiful and always looked like she was going out some place special.  She looked kind of lost like me.  

In the evenings though, I couldn’t find her.  I went down towards that room but the girls inside neither fit that description. I met her one day, found out her name was Janis..spelled like mine. We finished our morning classes at the same time so we decided to meet for lunch...I was so happy to have someone besides Agnes to meet for lunch.

That evening, I was enjoying the quiet of my room with Agnes out with Angus, for the evening when a girl appeared at my door.  She smiled, said hi, called me by name and sat down on my bed. I was thinking who is this???  When she referred to us eating lunch together that day.  It dawned on my this was Janis!!!!  Her hair was in curlers, a pink cap over them, she had on no make-up, no false eyelashes, no lipstick and was in a long pink nightgown. I couldn’t believe it was her.  I had seen her on other evenings but had not realized this was “The girl with the hair.” 

Janis’ roommate was a “shit kicker” name Gertrude.  Gertrude was a lot like Agnes and also had a boyfriend she talked about constantly.  She played her Charlie Pride records non-stop while talking about Johnny.  This particular evening Janis had noticed Agnes was gone and had come to my room to escape from Gertrude.  Our roommates were driving us nuts.  Janis had more of a break than me because her boyfriend would come and pick her up some evenings. Before long Janis and I were meeting for every meal and walking to the Home Economics building  plotting our revenge, trying to figure out how to ditch our roommates.  Agnes was ready to bail as well but she wanted to me to move out and I had no where to go.  Janis was experiencing the same scenario.  

Finally we had made it to Thanksgiving, a much earned break for all. When we returned from Thanksgiving….the announcement was made.  Agnes was getting married..she and Angus were expecting.  There were only two weeks left until Christmas break….I had made it and I was coming back in the spring.  Janis and Janis were going to be roommates.  This was the beginning of a lifelong friendship, that would be the closest thing to having a sister I would ever have.



It wasn’t until a year later as I moved in for my sophomore
year that I realized just how homesick I had been the year before.  I always had Joy’s words playing in the back of my head, “YOU are so spoiled you will never make it!”

I graduated four years later with a Bachelor of Science Degree from Texas Tech University. 



Saturday, August 16, 2014

All Memories are not Good


In the early 1940s having a child our of wedlock was strictly taboo. A woman and her baby would be labeled for life.  As a result when the young woman got pregnant she would go to live with a relative or friend in a different city or state.

Such must have been the case with my great Aunt Dessie when she found out she was pregnant.  I am not sure of the details but she ended up marrying a man named Shaeff, and they had her baby, who was named after him, Hubert Larry.  Her baby was 10 years older than me.  Larry was a very brilliant student.  All who knew him thought him an outstanding person.....except me.

My great aunt and uncle lived in a yellow brick house on Amburn Road.  It seemed like an old house to me.  I always thought it was kind of a strange old house.  The house was yellow brick but the garage had yellow and red brick.  I asked why it was different and my dad told me that the garage had been a part of another house.  The other house had burned down.  When they built the new house they only had the yellow brick.

My parents frequently visited with Aunt Dessie, Uncle Shaeff and Larry.   Aunt Dessie had been instrumental in finding out about the opening at Union Carbide for my dad shortly before my parents married.  My dad was forever grateful to her for her connections and for suggesting him for the job.

Larry, who was 13 would always lure 3 year old me out of earshot of my parents, with a book or some candy.  Once away, he would try to restrain me.  When I would try to pull away he would hold me even tighter.  When I would start to protest he would put his hand over my mouth and nose until I was struggling to breathe.  Then he would remind me that everyone loved him, and thought he was very smart.  He told me that no one would believe anything I said because I was just a little kid and little kids were always stupid liars. I quietly complied and tried to stay as close to my father and mother as possible during the visits.  I protested whenever they said they were going to go to Aunt Dessie's house but my protests fell on deaf ears.

By the time I was 5 my mother had started to work on one of her master’s degrees.  I stayed at Mrs. Hudnall’s house during the school year while my parents worked,  but since it was summer, my mother had to find someone else to keep me.   That was how I ended up being at my great aunt’s four days a week for half the summer.  Larry was always there, when my great aunt was there he didn’t pay much attention to me.  Sometimes she ran errands and would take me with her in her big pink 1955 Buick Special. I enjoyed getting to ride in her big old car.  Sitting in the middle of the seat, the radio was just at my eye level.  She would let me tune the radio to the station I wanted to listen to.  

One day she had to meet my uncle for lunch.  Anticipating getting to go, I was devastated when she told me I would be staying at the house.......with Larry.  I cried and begged her to let me go.  She sternly told me ,”No”, that it was rude to ask to go somewhere you had not been invited.  I wanted to tell her...I wanted to go because I was afraid of Larry....but remembering he had told me that adults thought little kids were “stupid liars, “ I just curled up on the couch at the other end of the kitchen and cried.

She had only been gone a few minutes when Larry came into the kitchen.  He told me that his mom had been making me doll clothes for my favorite doll, Toodles.  I couldn’t believe my ears.  He told me they were in the bedroom and he would show them to me. I eagerly jumped up and started to run towards the bedroom where she kept her sewing machine.  There, on the sewing machine table were the clothes, each outfit spread out to see.  They were in beautiful bright colors and just the right size for my beloved doll. How I wished I had brought her with me.  I scooped the clothes up, clutching them to my chest to carry them back to the kitchen, when turning,  saw Larry, leaning against the closed door.  I knew he was about to do something to me.  I dropped the clothes, started backing away from him, crying.  He grabbed me by my arms and told me how my arms would be bruised if I pulled away from him.   Then he asked me what would I say to explain the bruises?  As I screamed he pushed me, put his hand over my mouth and nose, and as I struggled for air, he pushed me down on the bed....

When he finally let me go, I ran as fast as I could...out the front door...down the steps... all the way across the front yard, past the big tree and around the garage with the yellow and red brick.  There I fell down behind a shrub, in the tall, cool grass and sobbed.  

I cried for what seemed like forever.  I was so alone, no one knew where I was, my mother wouldnt like him doing those things to me or my being left alone.  As I cried, in the shadow of the bush, I felt something scratchy wipe across my face.  Scared it was Larry, playing some horrible trick on me, I barely peeked up. I looked into the green eyes of a big spotted cat.  As I lay there on the grass...the big cat looked at me and started once again to lick the salty tears from my cheeks with her tongue.  I started to stroke her soft fur.  She laid down and cuddled by my side.  As the sobs slowly left my body, I could feel the rumble of her purrs against me. I put my arms around her and held her tight.  I thought about all the beautiful doll clothes I had left behind.  I was determined to not go back into that house again. Larry didn’t call for me, I hoped he thought I had run away for good.

I heard my aunt’s big old car pull up, the car door slam, her heels on the sidewalk, the squeak of screen door as it opened, the slam as it closed.  A few moments passed then I heard the squeak of the door, the slam, the heels on the sidewalk again and her calling my name.  

I waited until she had called me several times before I answered.  She didn’t seem alarmed that I was there alone and said, “Oh I see you found the cat.”  Aunt Dessie had to have seen my tear stained face.  Then she said, “Let’s go, your mom will be home soon. I told her I would bring you home.”  I didn’t reply, I just got up and climbed into the car.  I didnt scoot over to the middle, in front of the radio like I usually did, instead, I stayed close to the door.  We rode to my house in silence.  

When we got to my house, Aunt Dessie greeted my mom and presented all the beautiful doll clothes she had made me for my beloved doll, in a little round blue suitcase.  I took them reluctantly. My mother, I could tell, was embarrassed by my ingratitude.   I tried to smile...it had been such a horrible day.  I took the little blue suitcase to my room. I felt dirty just putting the clothes on my precious doll.  

For the rest of the summer, whenever my aunt left, I ran and hid until I knew Larry was no longer looking for me. Had it not been for the old cat waiting for me behind the garage...I would never have been able to keep the horrible secret to myself.  The old cat, always waiting for me, seemed to know what I was going through.

Finally one day on the phone, my aunt told my mother that she had a few errands to run and, “Would it be okay to leave Jan with Larry for a few minutes while I am gone?" When Mother told me, I immediately started begging Mom not to let her leave me with Larry.  She asked me why.  I told her I didn’t like him, that he was mean to me, that I was scared of him.  She was upset.  Her classes were over for the summer, Mom decided to take me with her while she got her classroom ready for the first day of school.  I did everything she asked me to.  I emptied trash cans, swept, and tried to be the best helper she had ever had.  Other teachers even commented on what a great helper I was, to not even be in school yet.   I never stayed with Aunt Dessie and Larry again.

When I was fifteen, about ten years later, my aunt came to our house with a baby in her arms.  Larry had married several years before and the baby was his little girl.  I was so outraged.  I took one look at the baby and told my aunt, “I hope Larry never does to her, what he did to me," and I walked out the door.  Later my mother confronted me. I told her the whole story.  She just looked at me and cried.  


We never talked about it again until she told me my Great Aunt Dessie had died, I was 30 years old. Mom told me how sorry she was over what Larry had done to me, but until that moment, I had never been sure if she had thought I was terrible or him.  When she was growing up, she said every family had a dirty old uncle that every girl in the family knew to stay away from, they just didnt talk about it.  She said she had not known what to do, except to never go around them again.