INTRODUCTION

PREFACE

Over the years I have often entertained my children and grandchildren with stories from my life. These sometimes serious but more often humorous stories became known as “Papa Stories”. It was during a vacation to Cocoa Beach, Florida in May of 2015 that Becky said that I should write some of these stories down. So, from a balcony overlooking the Atlantic Ocean I began. From my early memories as a child in the 1950s through my teenage years in the 1960s and into adult life I have sought to record many of my life events and misadventures in these “Papa Stories”. My stories will certainly not be remembered as classic literature but are merely a collection of events as I remember them and choose to tell them.

 

Craig Lee Cheek

TIMELINE

(Birth through college graduation)

December 23, 1951, born at Saint Leos Hospital in Greensboro, NC – lived in Pleasant Garden, NC

1951 – 1955 Lived in Pleasant Garden, NC

1955 – 1956 Lived in Candlewood Shores, Connecticut

Summer, 1956 Moved to Brice Street, Greensboro, NC

1957 - 1958 First Grade– Page Private School – Greensboro, NC

Summer, 1958 Moved to Sumter, SC - we lived on Glendale Court then moved to Garrett Street

1958 – 1959 Second Grade– Alice Drive Elementary School – Sumter, SC

1959 – 1960 Third Grade– Alice Drive Elementary School, Sumter, SC

Summer, 1960 Moved to Unadilla, GA

1960 – 1961 Fourth Grade– Unadilla, GA

Summer, 1961 Moved to Hillcrest Street, (now known as Laurel Knoll Dr.) Pleasant Garden, NC

1961 – 1962 Fifth Grade – Pleasant Garden Elementary School, Pleasant Garden, NC

1962 – 1963 Sixth Grade – Pleasant Garden Elementary School, Pleasant Garden, NC

1963 – 1965 Seventh and Eighth Grade - Pleasant Garden Junior High School, Pleasant Garden, NC

1965 - 1967 Freshman and Sophomore – Southeast High School, Pleasant Garden, NC

Summer, 1967 Moved back to Sumter, SC

1967 – 1969 Junior and Senior – Edmunds High School, Sumter, SC – Graduated May 1969

1969-1971 Sumter Technical Education Center

September 4, 1971, Married Rebecca Lowder

December 31, 1972, Laura Lynn born in Sumter, SC

September 19, 1975, William Matthew born in Hendersonville, NC

November 5, 1976, Ashlea Anne born in Hendersonville, NC

1980-1984 – Attended & graduated from Toccoa Falls College, Toccoa Falls, Georgia

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MY FATHER’S EARLY CHILDHOOD EXPERIENCE AS AN AVIATOR

My father, William John Edward Cheek, had a wonderful sense of humor and was a great storyteller. One of the many humorous stories I remember my father telling me about his childhood was the time he and his neighborhood buddies built an "airplane" and launched it off the roof of a garage.

 

Aviation was still considered a relatively new invention when he was a child. Dad was born in 1923 and the Wright brothers had only made their historic first flight some 20 years earlier in 1903 at Kitty Hawk, NC. Sightings of airplanes were still rare so to see one up close was very unusual. To ride in one was practically unheard of.

 

 The story was that a barnstormer pilot in a biplane had recently flown over town, buzzed a few buildings for publicity then landed at the fairgrounds to sell rides. One of my dad's older and more affluent friends talked his parents into purchasing a ride for the boy to experience the thrill of flying. When his friend came back from his short but exciting airplane ride, he was immediately considered the local aviation expert as he had ridden in a real airplane. The rest of the neighborhood boys eagerly gathered around the “experienced aviator” to hear the firsthand report and to ask questions about his exciting conquest of the air.

 

It was during the telling of this thrilling report that the small group of young boys decided that they would build their own airplane so each of them could experience the wonder of flying like a bird themselves. The youngster who had taken the ride became the chief engineer for the project and a list of needed building materials was soon created and distributed to each of the boys to gather up. It was also determined that since there were no flat, open spaces on their street for their airplane to take off from they would need some place to give the airplane a good start for the takeoff run. One of the young exuberant boys suggested they let it take off from his garage roof which would give the airplane, and its enclosed test pilot, a few feet of starting altitude and a straight path down the driveway that was clear of trees. All the boys, being young and inexperienced, thought this was a great idea.

 

The first pilot would fly the airplane from the garage roof up past the corner market, over the school yard then out to the fairgrounds where he would land it and the second boy would take his ride from there. Flights of fancy filled the boy’s thoughts as they ran home to gather the needed building supplies to assemble their new airplane. Some old wooden 2x4s for framing, a few chicken crates for the thinner wood, some nails to assemble it with and an old bicycle rubber inner tube for engine power. One boy was even able to acquire an old aviator’s leather cap with goggles for the boys to wear while flying the plane. A few hours after gathering back at the garage where the takeoff was planned the boys had completed assembly and hoisted their aviation wonder up to the garage roof.

 

At this point there was a little discussion about who the lucky first pilot would be. Since my dad was one of the youngest and smallest in the group it was decided that he should have the honor of being “Chief Test Pilot” and was given the official pilots leather cap and goggles to wear on his adventure. The boys had constructed their airplane exactly as their “Chief Engineer” had directed. There was a broomstick nailed to the floor of the airplane because the “Engineer” said the real airplane had a stick so theirs should have one also even though this one was not connected to anything. Two blocks of wood nailed into the floor where your feet went sufficed for the rudder pedals, again not connected to anything. The power plant designed to pull their airplane from the garage roof through the air and over to the fairgrounds was another 2x4 board with a large nail driven through the center of it, then the nail was bent to form a “J” so that the twisted rubber bicycle inner- tube would unwind causing the assembly to turn quickly. The “experienced flight engineer” boy had explained that the real airplane had a propeller spinning around on its front as well.

 

 After going over the pre-arranged flight plan and putting a little more oil on the lawnmower wheels used for landing gear it was time to fly. My dad climbed in, secured his rope seatbelt “just like the real airplane had”, pulled his aviators cap on, bid his buddies goodbye, and pulled the stick used to hold the bicycle inner-tube motor from turning too soon. The rest of the boys helped get the airplane moving by giving it a good push from the tail. With a loud “hoorah” and the sound of a 2x4 spinning around from the front, the airplane rolled quickly to the edge of the garage roof.

 

Years later, as my dad was telling me this story, he recalled hearing his buddies’ voices yelling excitedly and the “whop whop” sound of the bike tube spinning the 2x4 “propeller” as he sailed off the garage roof. This was quickly followed by the sound of rushing air then the crunch of wood, lawnmower wheels, broomstick, nails and one small boy as the aeronautical creation crashed to the ground.

 

Thankfully, the primary test pilot, my dad, escaped serious injury but did have numerous scrapes, cuts and sore muscles for several days after the crash. The neighborhood boys switched to building smaller, pilotless, balsa wood model airplanes afterwards and had much safer results with them.

 

When my dad became an adult, he did have the opportunity to take flying lessons and flew his official solo flight from a snow-covered runway in an airplane fitted with snow skis at an airfield in Connecticut. That flight went much smoother than his first one. Years later he safely flew as a passenger to many different parts of the world on business trips and vacation travels but probably never forgot his first short flight as a very young child.

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While taking a college class our daughter, Laura, wrote the following story. I thought it would be a good addition to my collection of Papa Stories and would give a little insight into both my father’s and Laura’s lives.

Laura’s story

“My grandfather used to tell us stories. He would write out clues on slips of paper and hide them around the house and yard. We would follow the riddles, squealing when we solved one, and tearing off together to find the next. He made us stop and wait on the youngest before we opened a new one. He was very fair that way. At the end, he would give us a small treat like a piece of candy and then tell us a story. I recognized early on that the story was the real treat. He told us stories about growing up in the depression, of trying to build an airplane and fly it off the barn roof. He told us about bringing a pony home to our aunt in the back of his county car. He took the backseat out first, apparently. In my mind I would always see that pony, head out of the back window, mane blowing in the breeze, as he pulled up at the house. My aunt, then a young girl, watching wide-eyed with wonder.

Some of the stories I remember most were the ones he told about his travels during World War II. He was a marine in the Pacific. He did not tell us about the fighting, it was always about the flies trying to get his food, having to march in wet boots, or funny anecdotes about other soldiers. My favorite story from his marine days was the story he told about coming home. The war was finally over. My grandfather had run beside a tank for years in the islands of the Pacific and had not been shot once. He was on the boat deck as they pulled into the harbor – all the people yelling and crying and welcoming them home. His huge sea bag slung over shoulder as he waited to disembark. He waited in line as each soldier threw his pack from his shoulder to the netting to be lowered from the ship, stepped on to the gangplank, and walked down to the bottom. There, a table was set up, and smiling Red Cross nurses waited to hand each returning hero a cup of coffee and a donut. My grandfather, all smiles, lifted the great weight of his pack and gave it a mighty heft. Unfortunately, it caught hold of some small tag on his uniform and as the pack descended into the netting, my grandfather was propelled over and on to the gangplank. There he rolled over and over, taking out marines and the legs of the Red Cross table. The coffee and donuts landing like shrapnel all over him. He broke his arm.

The next day my grandfather boarded the bus for home, arm in a sling, every inch the returning soldier from a glorious victory, armed with another story. When things have not gone as I expected or a moment of triumph has turned a bit sour for me, I remember my grandfather and the way he turned everything into another tale to tell.”

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A Few Things I Have Learned in Many Years of Being Alive

 

– “Do not touch” signs are usually put there for a reason

- You can test a nine-volt battery on your tongue, but it won’t feel good

- When changing a baby’s diaper expect the unexpected

- People tend to remember other people’s mistakes longer than their accomplishments

- If your car starts making a new noise it’s best to stop and see why

- Pay attention and listen carefully when older people in your family talk about the past, you may not get another chance to listen to them

- A smile and a kind word will go a long way in dealing with difficult people

- Spend below your means

- Don’t be so proud that you refuse to accept help from others

- Tell the people you love that you do – repeatedly and often

-  Allow others to tell their stories without interrupting them

- Always show interest in what your spouse, children, grandchildren, and friends tell you

- When you have regrets in your life rectify what you can and then move on

-Choose your battles carefully, don’t make everything a big deal

-Always be thankful

-Remember who you are and whose you are

-It’s okay to be both a parent and a friend to your children