I was a senior in high school. One night my sister Betty called on the telephone and asked my mother to let her talk to me. When I answered she asked me, "Guess what's on fire?" My first thought was that the First Baptist Church was on fire because I used to help my grandpa clean the building and I was always seeing dirty rags in the furnace room and I was afraid they would spontaneously combust and burn down the church building. When I told her I thought it was the church she said "no, it's the high school." My first thought was "Hallelujah, hallelujah, the school is on fire. I hope it completely burns down." It did. It was a two story brick structure with a basement and the fire totally gutted the building. Nothing was salvageable. Fire authorities concluded that the fire had started due to the old furnace exploding and catching the building on fire.
This was great, I thought. No school. No school building. No where to go to school. But wait ... the school board had other ideas. The school burned on Friday and we went back to school on Monday, just like usual. The school board decided to hold all high school grades and classes in the school gymnasium. They had card tables and long tables set up in the gym and even had room for two classes on the stage. The building burned in January so we had 5 months of classes in the gym. It was a hoot. No one learned anything because it was just one big party after another for the rest of the year. People made and threw paper airplanes, wads of paper, balls of paper, spit balls, books, and all sorts of other kinds of shenanigans. If you sat close to the curtain on the stage you could part the curtain a little bit and cause all sorts of distractions to the classes on the gym floor. I don't know how the teachers put up with the situation.
We were assigned seats and had to sit at certain tables. It was total chaos when we changed from class to class. At one of my tables we had a kid that would drink Wildroot Creme Oil (a hair dressing) and he could also fart on command. We were always getting him to take a swig of hair oil and if he drank too much he would always go to the bathroom and puke. Of course we thought that was hilariously funny. It was even funnier to make him fart whenever we wanted to. We would wait until things were pretty quiet and then make him fart. That would crack up everybody and the teachers would lose control and begin yelling for us to restore order.
One time during an episode like the one described above, I didn't know it but the PE teacher was standing directly behind me where I couldn't see him. He was also the football, basketball, and track coach. Well, we made our classmate fart and I began to laugh silently and about to bust a gut. Then I lost it and laughed out loud. Suddenly, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder and a stern voice from coach Coen. He spun me around and told me I had just laughed myself off the track team. He suspended me for the next two track meets. We only had three left, so while I was disappointed, it wasn't as big of a deal to me as it was to him.
The last five months of my senior year in high school was total chaos as far as learning anything. I think all the school did was to meet attendance requirements so they could continue to receive state funds to operate the school. I'm convinced no learning took place.
I think the board of education graduated all seniors whether they had earned the right or not. All students in grades 9-11 were promoted to the next grade at the end of the school year.
During our time in the gym most of us were in trouble most of the time (this included the girls as well). I'm sure our teachers wanted to pull their hair out. I'm sure they were frustrated to the 'nth degree.
I remember on one occasion after school we pulled Johnny Shelby's bicycle up the flag pole. Of course, the school principal was watching us out of his office window. We thought he had gone home but he fooled us. The next day he made the four of us go out to the flagpole and hold on to it for an hour. If we took our hand off the pole he would yell at us from his window.
This wasn't the only trouble I got into but I'll not reveal some of the others. Just junky kid stuff that was probably perceived as "bad behavior" at the time but not really. Only fun lovin things that most any kid would do if they had the opportunity.
As a kid I was fun-lovin-ornery. Only did one thing that was really bad and not acceptable, but I paid the price for doing it. That's a whole different story.
Burn baby burn!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Grandpas Rubbers !!!
When we moved to town we lived right next door to my grandmother and step-grandpa. Grandpa was deaf as a door nail and he read lips to understand what you were saying when you talked to him. He was a little guy about 5 foot 6 inches tall and didn't weigh very much. I think he had to hold on to a tree or something if he got caught out in a strong wind to keep from blowing away. He was a pretty cool ole guy and I always liked being around him. He chewed tobacco and smoked a pipe which my grandma didn't like. He always had tobacco juice stains on his shirt.
When we got our TV he would come over a lot and watch. He loved to watch 'rasslin and would get all worked up watching the matches. He swore that the matches were real. His favorite 'rasslers included Gorgeous George and Wahoo McDaniels.
Years ago people wore goulashes (rubber foot wear) when it was wet and rainy outside to keep the mud and water off your shoes. Some were real fancy and just slipped over your shoes and some went clear to your knees with fancy buckles or zippers to close them up on your pant legs.
One time when grandpa came over to watch 'rasslin it began raining and then it started storming. The weather turned really nasty and our drive way was real muddy. Grandma called my mom on the telephone to see if we were okay during the storm. While she was talking to grandma, grandpa got mom's attention and asked her to ask grandma to bring over his rubbers. Well, when I heard that, I freaked out. I was about 10 or 11 at the time and was just beginning to learn about the birds and the bees and learning what all the graffiti on the bathroom walls meant. I was learning all the "dirty" stuff and had just learned what prophylactics were and that the common name for them was "rubbers."
A few minutes later grandma showed up carrying grandpa's goulashes (rubber foot wear) which he called his rubbers. You can imagine how shocked I was to learn that rubber foot wear were also called rubbers.
I was shocked and thoroughly disappointed to learn that grandpa didn't want his rubbers for what I thought he wanted them for.
When we got our TV he would come over a lot and watch. He loved to watch 'rasslin and would get all worked up watching the matches. He swore that the matches were real. His favorite 'rasslers included Gorgeous George and Wahoo McDaniels.
Years ago people wore goulashes (rubber foot wear) when it was wet and rainy outside to keep the mud and water off your shoes. Some were real fancy and just slipped over your shoes and some went clear to your knees with fancy buckles or zippers to close them up on your pant legs.
One time when grandpa came over to watch 'rasslin it began raining and then it started storming. The weather turned really nasty and our drive way was real muddy. Grandma called my mom on the telephone to see if we were okay during the storm. While she was talking to grandma, grandpa got mom's attention and asked her to ask grandma to bring over his rubbers. Well, when I heard that, I freaked out. I was about 10 or 11 at the time and was just beginning to learn about the birds and the bees and learning what all the graffiti on the bathroom walls meant. I was learning all the "dirty" stuff and had just learned what prophylactics were and that the common name for them was "rubbers."
A few minutes later grandma showed up carrying grandpa's goulashes (rubber foot wear) which he called his rubbers. You can imagine how shocked I was to learn that rubber foot wear were also called rubbers.
I was shocked and thoroughly disappointed to learn that grandpa didn't want his rubbers for what I thought he wanted them for.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Busted Again !
Me and my friends were always sneaking around and smoking whatever we could find to smoke. One time I found an open pack of Camel cigarettes in our garage. I was about 12 or 13 years old. The cigarettes belonged to my dad and he had left them there, probably for future use. I thought about not taking them for a minute but my friends encouraged me or dared me to take them anyway. So we were standing there talking about where we could go to smoke them. One of the guys had a lighter so we decided we would go across the street and go out behind Leonard Johnson's barn and smoke all we could before supper.
While we were standing there my mother drove in the driveway and I panicked when I saw her. I shoved the pack of cigarettes into the front of my pants. I didn't realize that the pack was upside down and that when I started walking up the driveway the cigarettes were coming out of the pack and falling down my pant leg onto the ground. We walked on out of the driveway and headed for Leonard's barn. We smoked all of them, probably 10 cigarettes. There was 3 of us so we each had a good smoking session. After we finished smoking my friends went on back to their houses and I headed home for supper.
When I went in I washed my hands and face and proceeded to the supper table. When I sat down I noticed my plate was turned upside down. I knew I was in trouble but I didn't know what for. After my dad offered a prayer of thanks for the meal, I turned my plate right side up and then I knew what I was in trouble for. There lay 3 Camel cigarettes. I looked at mom and then dad and they didn't say a word ... they just looked at me with a stare that would kill.
I was busted, again!
While we were standing there my mother drove in the driveway and I panicked when I saw her. I shoved the pack of cigarettes into the front of my pants. I didn't realize that the pack was upside down and that when I started walking up the driveway the cigarettes were coming out of the pack and falling down my pant leg onto the ground. We walked on out of the driveway and headed for Leonard's barn. We smoked all of them, probably 10 cigarettes. There was 3 of us so we each had a good smoking session. After we finished smoking my friends went on back to their houses and I headed home for supper.
When I went in I washed my hands and face and proceeded to the supper table. When I sat down I noticed my plate was turned upside down. I knew I was in trouble but I didn't know what for. After my dad offered a prayer of thanks for the meal, I turned my plate right side up and then I knew what I was in trouble for. There lay 3 Camel cigarettes. I looked at mom and then dad and they didn't say a word ... they just looked at me with a stare that would kill.
I was busted, again!
Stop and Get Me a Wolf's Head !
On the same trip to Salt Lake City, when we crossed the state line into Colorado, I began to see signs that read, or at least I thought the signs read: "Ask for a wolf's head." I kept seeing them pretty often and I began to think how cool it would be to have a wolfs head. Any cowboy worth his salt would like to have a wolf's head hanging somewhere in his room and I would like to have one too. Sometimes there would be 6 or 8 signs in a row, closely spaced, so my anticipation rose that I could get me a wolf's head.
After hours, or what seemed like hours to me, I finally asked my dad if we could stop and get a wolf's head at the next place where they had them. He asked me what was I talking about. He had never heard of such a thing and didn't know where I had come up with such a hair-brained idea. It wasn't too long until I saw another sign and told him to look, see, the sign says: "Ask for a wolf's head."
He saw the sign and laughed. He told me it said: "Ask for Wolf's Head Oil." I found out that a certain kind of gasoline station was advertising their oil lable brand: WOLF'S HEAD OIL.
I remember how disappointed I was that it was only a brand of oil and not a real wolf's head !!!
After hours, or what seemed like hours to me, I finally asked my dad if we could stop and get a wolf's head at the next place where they had them. He asked me what was I talking about. He had never heard of such a thing and didn't know where I had come up with such a hair-brained idea. It wasn't too long until I saw another sign and told him to look, see, the sign says: "Ask for a wolf's head."
He saw the sign and laughed. He told me it said: "Ask for Wolf's Head Oil." I found out that a certain kind of gasoline station was advertising their oil lable brand: WOLF'S HEAD OIL.
I remember how disappointed I was that it was only a brand of oil and not a real wolf's head !!!
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Watch Out !!!
My parents seemed to always take vacation breaks on the spur of the moment. As I remember the vacations were more of a break from routine rather than a bona-fide planned vacation. Dad was self employed so I guess he was free to decide when he could be away from his work.
On one occasion however I remember a vacation to Salt Lake City, Utah was planned well in advance. We were going to visit my mothers brother who lived there. So we departed on schedule and made our way across Kansas, into Colorado, and then into Utah. I really don't remember much about the vehicle excursion but I do remember some of the things we did in Salt Lake City. I remember driving out to a hill-top and viewing the great salt lake from a distance. It was pretty cool to see but also very boring for a youngster of my age (about 9 years old). We visited the Mormon Tabernacle and listened to the choir sing. It was awesome. We took a tour of the place and I remember the tour guide standing at the front of the auditorium and dropping a pin on the floor. You could hear it hit the floor from any point in the room because the acoustics are architecturally perfect. I remember going up into the mountains outside of Salt Lake City to a state park for a picnic. A mean cousin of mine put me up to hiding from my mother who promptly concluded that I was lost in the wilderness and she wanted to call out the National Guard to help find me. She was convinced that I would never be heard from again. My mean cousin had hid me in the back seat of his familys car and when he saw my mother crying and panic stricken, he confessed and I was found. He was in big trouble and so was I. My mother made me promise I would never do anything like that again. At the time I thought it was funny to hide from mom and dad but I soon learned by the heat on the seat of my pants that it wasn't.
When we were driving around the streets of Salt Lake City I kept seeing a sign that read: WATCH OUT FOR PRESBYTERIANS. And since we were in the heart of Mormon country it made perfectly good sense to me to watch out for those heathen Presbyterians. I kept seeing the sign and seeing the sign. I finally asked my dad: How do you tell a Presbyterian from anyone else? He said, "What?" I asked again "how do you tell a Presbyterian from anyone else?" Well, he went into this long explanation of what he thought the theological beliefs of a Presbyterian were. He said you couldn't really tell if somebody was a Presbyterian just by looking at them; you would have to talk with them. He asked me why I wanted to know anyway. What was it that intrigued me about Presbyterians?
After many more times of seeing the sign that read: WATCH OUT FOR PRESBYTERIANS, I pointed it out to my parents. I said, see, look, there is that sign again. When my dad saw it he began to laugh and laugh and laugh and then laughed almost uncontrollably. Finally I asked him what he thought was so funny. He told me.
He told me the sign read: WATCH OUT FOR PEDESTRIANS. (Not Presbyterians).
I was thoroughly embarrassed.
On one occasion however I remember a vacation to Salt Lake City, Utah was planned well in advance. We were going to visit my mothers brother who lived there. So we departed on schedule and made our way across Kansas, into Colorado, and then into Utah. I really don't remember much about the vehicle excursion but I do remember some of the things we did in Salt Lake City. I remember driving out to a hill-top and viewing the great salt lake from a distance. It was pretty cool to see but also very boring for a youngster of my age (about 9 years old). We visited the Mormon Tabernacle and listened to the choir sing. It was awesome. We took a tour of the place and I remember the tour guide standing at the front of the auditorium and dropping a pin on the floor. You could hear it hit the floor from any point in the room because the acoustics are architecturally perfect. I remember going up into the mountains outside of Salt Lake City to a state park for a picnic. A mean cousin of mine put me up to hiding from my mother who promptly concluded that I was lost in the wilderness and she wanted to call out the National Guard to help find me. She was convinced that I would never be heard from again. My mean cousin had hid me in the back seat of his familys car and when he saw my mother crying and panic stricken, he confessed and I was found. He was in big trouble and so was I. My mother made me promise I would never do anything like that again. At the time I thought it was funny to hide from mom and dad but I soon learned by the heat on the seat of my pants that it wasn't.
When we were driving around the streets of Salt Lake City I kept seeing a sign that read: WATCH OUT FOR PRESBYTERIANS. And since we were in the heart of Mormon country it made perfectly good sense to me to watch out for those heathen Presbyterians. I kept seeing the sign and seeing the sign. I finally asked my dad: How do you tell a Presbyterian from anyone else? He said, "What?" I asked again "how do you tell a Presbyterian from anyone else?" Well, he went into this long explanation of what he thought the theological beliefs of a Presbyterian were. He said you couldn't really tell if somebody was a Presbyterian just by looking at them; you would have to talk with them. He asked me why I wanted to know anyway. What was it that intrigued me about Presbyterians?
After many more times of seeing the sign that read: WATCH OUT FOR PRESBYTERIANS, I pointed it out to my parents. I said, see, look, there is that sign again. When my dad saw it he began to laugh and laugh and laugh and then laughed almost uncontrollably. Finally I asked him what he thought was so funny. He told me.
He told me the sign read: WATCH OUT FOR PEDESTRIANS. (Not Presbyterians).
I was thoroughly embarrassed.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Outstanding Pupil a Conservationist
I have an original copy of an article published Wednesday, May 17, 1961 in The Kansas City Times newspaper. I quote:
"A slender 5-foot 8-inch Oak Grove youngster plans to pit his 140 pounds against the adversities of nature in order to help conserve wild life.
Harvey F. (Pete) Grayum, a member of the Oak Grove high school graduating class of 32 seniors, at 17 years old has a realistic conception of the duties of conservation agents.
'In hard winters I want to be out in the weather to keep the wild life going,' he said. 'I want to work in restocking streams with fish and keeping records of the number of deer killed.'
To start, he will attend William Jewell college, Liberty, this fall and major in biology.
The beginning of his interest in conservation came from three years at the Boy Scout camp at Osceola. He has read the Missouri Conservationist for years. He hunts rabbit and quail and 'fishes all I can.'
In high school he served as treasurer of the Student Council and art editor of the yearbook. (He does still life paintings, 'every once in a while, when I get the urge,') managed the football team, played guard and defensive line backer on the squad and was on the track squad.
Pete also had time for church. The faculty named him the outstanding student.
At the exercises last night at the auditorium, Dr. Don W. Holter, president of St. Paul School of Theology, gave the commencement address. B.B. Robinette, president of the board of education, presented the diplomas.
The valedictorian was Carol Helman. Sharon Shrout and Harry Riead tied for salutatorian honors. About 500 persons attended the ceremony in the junior high school gymnasium."
(NOTE: My, my how things can change!)
"A slender 5-foot 8-inch Oak Grove youngster plans to pit his 140 pounds against the adversities of nature in order to help conserve wild life.
Harvey F. (Pete) Grayum, a member of the Oak Grove high school graduating class of 32 seniors, at 17 years old has a realistic conception of the duties of conservation agents.
'In hard winters I want to be out in the weather to keep the wild life going,' he said. 'I want to work in restocking streams with fish and keeping records of the number of deer killed.'
To start, he will attend William Jewell college, Liberty, this fall and major in biology.
The beginning of his interest in conservation came from three years at the Boy Scout camp at Osceola. He has read the Missouri Conservationist for years. He hunts rabbit and quail and 'fishes all I can.'
In high school he served as treasurer of the Student Council and art editor of the yearbook. (He does still life paintings, 'every once in a while, when I get the urge,') managed the football team, played guard and defensive line backer on the squad and was on the track squad.
Pete also had time for church. The faculty named him the outstanding student.
At the exercises last night at the auditorium, Dr. Don W. Holter, president of St. Paul School of Theology, gave the commencement address. B.B. Robinette, president of the board of education, presented the diplomas.
The valedictorian was Carol Helman. Sharon Shrout and Harry Riead tied for salutatorian honors. About 500 persons attended the ceremony in the junior high school gymnasium."
(NOTE: My, my how things can change!)
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