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.

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!)

Tough Guys !

When I was in the seventh grade me and my close friends thought we were tough guys and bad boys. We weren't but we thought we were.

We decided to form a gang. We had heard about big city gangs and thought we could have a gang too. To show our togetherness we decided we didn't want to get tatoo's but rather curl our hair. We all got our mothers or sisters to give us a "permanent" on the front half of our hair. The curls stood up right above our forehead and looked ridicolous, I'm sure. We thought we looked cool. We wore the collars on our shirts turned up the way Elvis wore his collars. This made us even cooler (we thought).

We decided each of us needed a weapon. We talked it over and thought a billy club that would fit in your back pocket would be the way to go. We went to the local hardware store and we each bought a bar of solder that was used by plumbers to join copper pipes together. The bars were 12" long and 3/4" square. A perfect size. We took the bars to my dads garage/shop/warehouse and wrapped about 2/3 of the length with strips of rags to form a bulge on the end of the club. It worked perfect. We now had our weapons.

All of a sudden it dawned on us that there weren't any other gangs in town. No one to fight with. Oak Grove wasn't a huge community. The population when I was growing up was 761. So we thought we would "beat up" a few of the nerdy kids but we never did.

My dad saw the club one day and asked me about it. I was proud and eager to tell him. Instead of taking it away from me, as he should have, he told me: "Son, no bigger than you are someone will take that club away from you and beat the living snot out of you."

I told my friends what my dad had said and we all agreed he was probably right. As soon as the permanents in our hair "failed" and grew out we disbanded the gang. No fights ever occurred because there weren't any rival gangs roaming the streets. There were no turf wars. There were no drive by shootings. No one claimed a corner to sell illegal drugs. All-in-all it was a pretty boring experience. But we had fun, I guess.

Tough guys? Not really.

Straightened Out

I really don't remember much about the first three grades of elementary school except for recess and lunch break. Me and my close friends couldn't wait until recess so we could go outside and play cowboys and Indians. When it rained and we couldn't go outside it was terrible. Of course everyone likes lunch hour.

I remember alot about fourth grade. Fourth grade was horrible. I hadn't paid attention in the first three grades and now in the fourth grade I had a teacher that expected me to know something. I knew a little bit but I didn't know the things I should have. I was an expert on cowboys and Indians but those subjects weren't covered in the curriculum.

My two sisters and brother, who had gone before me, were "brains" of the highest caliber. At least my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Cline, told me they were. She was always ridiculing me when I didn't know the answer to a question. She would go into a tirade and tell me, in front of the entire class, how I should know the material and how smart my brother and sisters were and how I should be smart like them. Instead of challenging me to do better she would just brough-beat me and embarrass me. She was mean! I hated her and I hated going to school. It just got worse and the fourth grade was a total disaster for me. Of course I passed the fourth grade and was promoted to the fifth grade at the end of the school year. You had to be a real moron and idiot not to pass from one grade to another where I went to school. And there were a couple of those in my class. I'm just glad I wasn't one of them.

The fifth grade was an entirely different story. My teacher, Mrs. Levy, for some reason took an interest in me and wanted to help me get on track and straighten out some of the bad academic habits I had developed. I never figured out why she thought I could be a good student. She had a meeting with my parents and called their attention to the fact that I was a horrible student. She told them she felt she could help me and would be glad to keep me after school each day for an hour for a few weeks and see what we could do together. When my parents told me the plan of action I panicked. I think I was more worried about staying after school for an hour and missing out playing with my friends. I also thought all my friends would be convinced that I was a real "dummy" and the teacher just had to keep me after school because I had been behaving badly.

I don't remember all the details but Mrs. Levy did straighten me out and helped me alot with academics. I guess she just had a great desire to teach students and saw a student who needed some help. I'm thankful she helped me. One of the greatest helps was the fact that she never compared me to my siblings and never embarrassed me in front of the class. She treated me like I was worth the effort on her part to help get me on the right adacemic path.

From that experience in the fifth grade I began to like school. I didn't always do so well but I at least tried. When I went to school the national grading system was E, S, M, I, and F. E stood for excellent, S was for superior, M stood for average, I was inferior, and of course F means failure in any language. Even after Mrs. Levy inspired me to do better I still got alot of M's, some I's, and once in a while I would get an F. I think I remember getting very few S marks and I don't ever remember getting an E until I got to high school.

Thanks Mrs. Levy wherever you are!

What's that Smell?

When I was in the 1st grade I pooped my pants! I remember sitting in the room, holding up my hand to get the teachers attention, to ask permission to go to the bathroom. I held and held and held up my hand but the teacher ignored me. Now it was too late. I pooped my pants right there at my desk!

Of course it started to smell. I remember a couple of girls that sat in desks next to mine began to ask "What is that smell?" And, "Where is it coming from?" I played along and acted like I didn't have a clue as to where the smell was coming from. Of course, it was coming from me.

When the teacher finally figured out the scenerio, she escorted me to the principals office. Of course there was a stinky trail following us. They were unprepared in the office to handle a situation like this, so once again they called my aunt Bea to come get me.

Aunt Bea came and took me home to her house which was only about 4 blocks from the school. She cleaned me up and called my mom to bring some clothes and to come get me.

One of the worst things was having to wear my girl cousins underwear, Mary Lou's, until my mom could get there with my clothes.

The other tough thing was going to school the next day and having all my friends rag on and tease me. It was especially difficult to face the two girls who set next to me.

Where's My Pencil?

When I began the 1st grade in elementary school there wasn't any pre-school or kindergarten. So you just went without any preparation for getting ready to start school. The room was set-up with old fashioned wooden desks in a straight row. And the room housed both the 1st and 2nd grades. All the 1st graders sat on one side of the room and all of the 2nd graders sat on the other side. It was cool. There were probably 12 1st graders in my class.

The school building was a two story brick structure with a partial basement. The building housed both the elementary and high school. Elementary grades were on the first floor with the second floor housing the High School. There was a shop in the basement for industrial arts classes for the high school. The furnace was in the basement as well. There was no air conditioning system.

There was no cafeteria so everyone had to bring their lunch. There was a water fountain on each floor but that was it. We had no lockers but there was a coat rack in the hallway.

On the first day of school my mom put two brand new #2 wood pencils with erasers in my lunchbox. Dad had sharpened them for me. When I went to school and looked inside my lunch box to get my pencils they weren't there. I panicked. I cried. I bawled. I thought someone had stolen my pencils. I continued to cry and it just got worse. The teacher tried to console me but nothing would work. The teacher ended up taking me to the principals office and the secretary called my aunt Bea to come get me from school. Of course by the time she got there I had calmed down. I went with her anyway. I was just way too upset to stay at school.

When we got to aunt Bea's we talked about what on earth could have happened to my pencils. She asked to look in my lunch box. There was a big napkin in the bottom of the lunch box and when she looked under the napkin, there they were! My two new pencils.

I guess if I had used the napkin rather than wiping my fingers on my pants I would have found the pencils.

All-Star

The Little League Championship World Series just ended with a team from Southern California defeating a team from Chinese Tai-Pai for the title of World Champs. Watching the entire championship series for more than a week reminded me of when I played Little League ball. They are good memories and I loved playing baseball. Our high school did not have a baseball team and I wasn't good enough to play in college so my Little League experience was it.

I played pitcher and second base. The coach told me I had a rather nasty natural curve ball. I didn't know the mechanics of "how" to throw it ... I just did. I also had a good change-up and a decent fast-ball. I could throw the curve ball on either side of the plate according the whether a batter was a "righty" or a "lefty." I had a very high strike-out ratio and was also successful at getting hitters to hit playable ground balls. When I lost my "stuff" I would get sent to the bench or to second base. I liked second base but it wasn't as much fun as pitching.

I played Little League for 3 summers. Each of the 3 years I was elected to the District All-Star team by my coaches as a pitcher. Only one other kid on our teams got elected to the All-Star team, so I was pretty proud and honored. I have some beautiful medals packed away somewhere but I don't know where. If I ever find them I'll put them somewhere easier to find.