THE HIGH SCHOOL YEARS

FLAME ON

While a freshman at Southeast Guilford Consolidated High School in NC, I unwittingly set a girls hair on fire. It seems like my experiences in Science Class tended to become adventures. Our class had the usual "choose an experiment to do in front of the class “assignment so we all chose between the experiments listed on the teacher's approved list. I don't recall exactly what mine was but probably something involving jet propulsion or aerodynamics that ended ok as I remember getting a good grade in the class.

 

The experiment I do remember was given by a girl in my class that used a Bunsen burner to heat something up. She set her experiment up on the lab table and began explaining the hows and whys about it culminating with needing to heat something up for her grand finale. Since I was sitting in the front row close to the lab table and since she was having difficulty lighting the burner, I thought it would be helpful to assist. Besides she was pretty and I thought it would be a chance to impress her with my rapt attention to her presentation. She had made a few attempts at lighting a match, turning the gas on to get the burner going but the match kept going out. I leaned forward, said “I'll help you” and when she got the next match lit, I opened the gas valve.

 

You would think that gas pressure regulators in a high school lab would be set to low pressure but apparently whoever installed this one did not think about that so when I turned the gas fully on and it met with the open flame of her match there was a giant "whoosh".  The flame explosively ignited loudly and scared everyone in that end of the classroom building and I immediately turned it back off. A bad smell enveloped the room and the pretty girl I was trying to help, and impress continued screaming until the teacher was at her side consoling and checking for additional open flames in her hair-sprayed hair. If she had been trying to demonstrate how flammable her hair spray was, she would have scored an A+ but unfortunately that was not the point of her demonstration.

 

Thankfully she was not physically damaged permanently but was able to wear decorative hair scarves for a while after this. The girl, her friends and our science teacher initially insinuated that I had caused the explosion on purpose but eventually they all just stopped talking about it. The burnt smell in the room did linger for quite some time though.

TRUMPET PLAYING AND AN EXPLODING GARDEN HOSE

I started my high school years at Southeast Guilford Consolidated High School in Greensboro, North Carolina. Having completed first grade at Page Private School in Greensboro, NC,  second and third grades at Alice Drive Elementary School in Sumter, SC, fourth grade at Unadilla Elementary in Unadilla, GA then fifth through eighth grades at Pleasant Garden Schools in NC I found myself in high school as a freshman in 1965. Making new friends, changing classes, going to ballgames, trying to figure out who I was and playing in the band were all part of my high school years.

 Freshmen in the band were usually relegated to playing in non-lead sections as upper classmen usually had more experience in playing and were generally regarded as better musicians. If you wanted to move up your position in the band you would challenge the player one step above you. That means you both play the same challenge piece of music then the band would vote and you would either move up or stay where you were until the next challenge opportunity came around.

We had a strong trumpet section in the band my freshman year and the lead player was a guy named Phillip. Phillip was good and he knew it, so much that he became cocky with the band director, Mr. Grant, who declared a whole trumpet section challenge to hopefully reign in Phillip’s cocky attitude. Mr. Grant assigned the piece of music everyone in the trumpet section was to learn and set a date for us to present it to the rest of the band. I took the piece of music home and got my dad to help me practice it using his wealth of trumpet playing experience to master the piece. The group challenge day came and Mr. Grant had the entire trumpet section stand outside of the band room door so the band could only hear us and not see us as we each took our turn at playing the solo piece of music. Each trumpet player was assigned a random number and each of us played as our number sequence came up. After all had played the band voted and to my surprise I had captured the first trumpet, first chair position!

 I held that spot for a few weeks and was routinely challenged by the now embarrassed upper classmen. Phillip finally regained his first chair position but I continued to play first trumpet for the remainder of my high school years.

Sadie Hawkins Day was a fun day that started from the comic strip “Lil Abner” many years ago. The premise was that it’s a dance where the girls ask the boys to a dance. While seeming very archaic now it was considered a fun event back in the 1960s. There was a girl in band named Linda that I liked and had been to a party with. She asked me to come to the Sadie Hawkins Day dance at school with her and I accepted. The dance was kind of a big deal where the girl would bring a boutonniere for the boy and the boy would bring a corsage for the girl. I had picked out a nice corsage for Linda and thought it would be a fun event. On the afternoon of the dance I was at home in my backyard and wanted to use the garden hose to water something. I turned the water on but nothing came out of the end of the water hose. I wiggled the hose a bit and checked for kinks that would stop the water flow, all looked okay. Pointing the end of the hose toward my eyes for a better look I was surprised when the dried mud inside the hose came loose and blasted out of the hose with great force. I immediately felt pain in both of my eyes and called out for help.

 When I got to the eye doctor I learned that I had significant corneal abrasions in my left eye but my right eye was only slightly scratched. By the time I got back home from the doctor’s office it was too late to call my date and explain that I would not be able to go to the dance due to my injury. My sister Linda had also attended the dance and said she found my date and explained the situation. My sister said that my date had a nice boutonniere ready for me and had been expectantly looking around for me to show up. I felt bad that I had inadvertently stood up my date but after explaining my situation we remained friends. Thankfully I recovered from my eye damage and was able to see normally again after a few weeks.

 I eventually moved back to Sumter for my junior and senior years in high school and met the love of my life, Becky Lowder. Years later Bec and I met up with Linda and her husband Randy at Walt Disney World and enjoyed the visit. Ever since the exploding water hose event I try to be very careful when looking at something that might blow debris into my eye!

MY FIRST SUMMER BACK IN SUMTER, SOUTH CAROLINA

We moved from Pleasant Garden, NC back to Sumter, SC in 1967 the summer before my junior year in high school. I spent some of that summer helping a family friend with his airplane parts business. Lou Bigelow worked with my dad and also sold parts and kits for a home built airplane. My job was to box and ship airplane parts and to help keep his garage, filled with airplane parts, organized. It was interesting and enjoyable work. When Lou's niece came to visit she would practice her guitar playing and ballad singing in the garage while I packed airplane parts. The first time I ever heard the tune "what shall we do with a drunken sailor" was during one of those afternoons. Not long after that summer Lou and his wife divorced and I lost touch with him.

 

When we first moved back to Sumter in 1967 we lived in a rental house on Church Street. It was a large home with a detached garage in the backyard. Our yard adjoined the Sowell’s yard and there was a fence between our driveway and their side yard. Rev. Sowell was the minister at the St. Marks Methodist Church located on the other side of their house. The Sowells were friendly to visit with and had two little girls.

 

I attended Grace Baptist Church when we first moved to Sumter and there was a large and very active youth group there. The youth group immediately accepted me as a part of their group and introduced me to teenage life in Sumter. On my first Sunday I was invited to go with several of the high school group to a Young’s Market for an ICEE. When I asked what that was they seemed shocked that I had never heard of an ICEE and proceeded to describe the ICEE drink to me and tell me that Young’s Markets were the local chain of convenience stores around Sumter. I was treated to my first ICEE by Mike and Sandy, my new friends from church. It turned out that they also went to Edmunds HS and Mike played trombone in the band.

 

When that summer wound down and it was time to head back to school it was fun to already know some of my classmates. Prior to the start of school I went to Band camp. Band camp was where the high school band learned their new marching routine and music for the upcoming marching band contests and football game shows. Camp was held at Wofford College in Spartanburg, SC. It was at that band camp that I first met someone who would completely alter the course of my life, a clarinet player named Becky Lowder.

“HAPPY DAYS" AT EDMUNDS HIGH SCHOOL

Moving back to Sumter, SC from Pleasant Garden, NC in 1967 was like I had traveled in a time warp or been put into the set for the "Happy Days" TV show. Things were very different in my new surroundings. The people I went to school with at Edmunds had a lot of school spirit and really got involved with multiple school activities. The whole town supported the Edmunds athletic programs. Moving from a big, new consolidated high school that was forming its own new traditions like Southeast to an older high school like Edmunds that had been in existence for many years required a paradigm shift in my thinking about high school.  

 

At Southeast our band marched a different program every home game and used lyres to hold our music. At Edmunds we memorized our music and marched one long program for the competitions but used smaller parts of the program for exhibitions at home and away football games. The Edmunds High School spirit was legendary. The pep rallies and ball games were very well attended and being in the band was a huge deal. I was startled at my first Edmunds HS pep rally held inside the gym. The coach introduced the players and then a few short speeches were made. This was followed by the student body singing the school alma mater. During the last few words of the alma mater the entire student body extended their right arm and hand, tapped their leg and held their hand out. This resembled a Nazi salute to me and I was shocked! I later understood that it was just a sign of appreciation and respect for the school and another example of school spirit that I eventually became accustomed to. 

 

 We did have some school spirit back at Southeast as I remember being asked to play at a pep rally and bonfire. The first chair trumpet Senior who usually played at pep rallies was not able to be there so I was asked to simply play the tune "charge" at the conclusion of the rally. I practiced playing the simple tune several times and was confident I could handle the job. The event started, the fire was lit, the cheerleaders cheered then it was time for the rousing yell of "charge" accompanied by me on my trumpet. My first two trumpet volleys came out loud, clear and on key and the crowd responded with a loud “charge” each time. The last, and most important trumpet volley however, slipped out off key and with an uncertain squalk which was followed by the crowd responding softly with a "charge"? I will never forget the odd look I got from the head cheerleader when my sour notes rang out. Thankfully, I was never asked to play at another pep rally bonfire while at Southeast HS!

 

I did, however, get to play a solo part in the band for a concert later that year. It was held in the school auditorium one night. Parents were invited and I played my solo piece, "Yesterday" by the Beatles, while standing out in front of the rest of the band as they accompanied me. It went well and I remember my father being surprised that I had not mentioned that I would be playing a solo during the performance. I guess I didn't think it would be that big of a deal. He was very pleased that I had the opportunity and very supportive that I had done a "great job" with it.

 

At Edmunds we even had school spirit parades where the classes would build decorative floats that were pulled down the streets in a parade around town prior to homecoming football games. The many school activities I was involved in helped me meet other students and appreciate and understand the Edmunds HS traditions more even if it did feel like an episode of the TV show “Happy Days”.

MY FUTURE WIFE ENTERS MY LIFE

When the summer of 1967 was over it was time to start in my new school, Edmunds High School. Since I had been in band in NC and wanted to continue playing music my dad introduced me to Mr. Simmons, the Music Director at Edmunds HS. My dad and Mr. Simmons had known each other previously somehow so that made it an easy process to sign up with the band. Edmunds always had a week of band camp at Wofford College in Spartanburg, SC before the school year started. Band camp was a time to learn the music and marching routine for the year. I was assigned to room with another trumpet player, Gary Dixon, who I found out later was a good friend of my future wife!

 

I was the new guy and a bit insecure and shy so was rather stand- offish during most of band camp and got labeled as "stuck up” by some. One person who seemed to take my distancing attitude as a challenge to befriend me was Becky Lowder, a clarinet player and my future wife. She and her pal Betsy Hill had the reputation of being loud and having fun. If ever there was noise going on at band camp you would always hear "Bec and Betsy" did this or "Bec and Betsy” did that.

 

Being new to the band also meant being initiated into the band. The girls and boys had separate initiations. Since I was a junior, it was decided that I would be initiated first then I could join in initiating the underclass men as well. The initiation night came, and I was dutifully sprayed with shaving cream, deodorant, got toothpaste rubbed into my hair...the usual initiation stuff then was proclaimed a "full member of the Edmunds HS marching band" and ready to assist with initiating the underclass guys. My sophomore roommate, Gary, had decided that he would not get initiated and so he began hiding from the upper-class guys to avoid it. This became a game for him to stay hidden and the upper-class guys to find him. It was all good clean fun until Gary ran through the men's dorm being pursued by some upper classmen and accidently slammed the door on his own finger cutting the last joint off.  The mood changed immediately, medical attention was summoned for Gary and the initiation was officially over. We found Gary's finger joint and sent it to the hospital in a cup of ice, but they were unable to attach it.  Gary continued to play the trumpet and to be a good friend to both Becky and I. Years later when we saw him at a high school class reunion, he stated that his shorter finger actually helped him reach certain chords on a bass guitar that he probably would not have been able to otherwise.

 

After band camp and the finger episode the regular class year started. The band took marching band competitions very seriously. Mr. Simmons had stated that if we ever won the state band competition we could have a parade down Main Street in Sumter no matter what time of day or night it was. The fun of this thought was part of the enthusiasm we had as band members in competition. While always having good scores we only made it to second place the two years I played with them, so we never got to have a midnight parade down main Street.

 

Band trips were big social occasions for band members. Being a senior meant you had the privilege of traveling on the senior bus if you were a senior or the invited guest of a senior. It was during a band trip that Becky, a sophomore, was an invited guest of a senior going to the event but then rudely uninvited for the ride back. Being demoted in status and now relegated to riding with the underclass band members became the beginning of our relationship. It was on that return trip that we had our first real conversation. Becky got on the same bus I was on and visited with some friends for a while then walked back to where I was sitting alone and asked me if I was asleep. Being that it was late, and I was still wrestling with my insecurities I feigned sleep and responded "not anymore" to try to sound a bit annoyed in case she just moved on. Thankfully she ignored my rude comment, sat down next to me, and started talking. After that the "Bec and Betsy" duo turned into the "Bec and Craig" duo and our relationship began. I never had to wish for a best friend again after that night.

HOW NOT TO BEHAVE IN SCHOOL

I remember getting into trouble twice at school during my junior year of high school at Edmunds High School in Sumter, SC. I had been dating Becky for a while and there was a boy named Gary Williams who sat behind me in English class. Dan Matthews was the teacher in that class. One day during class Gary started poking me in the back with his pencil and whispering that he was going to steal Becky away from me and was going to take her out for a dinner date that weekend. I whispered for him to stop but he continued poking me and whispering his plans to take my girlfriend out.

I was usually not a hot-tempered person but after several minutes of being poked and goaded I decided that Gary was not understanding my whispers to stop so I stood up, turned around, yelled “I said stop” and hit him hard in the face. Gary then jumped up to retaliate but his punch missed me. It was then that Mr. Matthews stepped in and made us both go to the back of the room. Mr. Matthews told us to stretch our arms straight out and he put a dictionary onto each of our outstretched hands/arms and said to keep holding them out straight then he proceeded with the class lecture.

The rest of the class were now smiling and giggling at our punishment and found it hard to keep looking forward at the teacher while taking short glances at the drama unfolding behind them. As Gary and I stood there holding out the dictionaries each of us thought the other would drop their dictionaries first. I was determined that I would not drop mine before Gary and inwardly resolved to beat Gary at this no matter how much pain it required. After a few minutes I noticed Gary’s arms trembling and he began to make small grunting sounds. A few more minutes passed, and Gary’s arms collapsed with the dictionaries making a loud “bang” when they hit the floor.  Just to drive home the point and to show my victory I continued to hold my arms out for another minute or so before carefully lowering them. Mr. Matthews then told us to sit back down and followed up with additional reprimands after class. Gary and I actually became better friends after this even though I won the conflict and kept the girl!

The other incident occurred during a study hall when a bully named Burke kept hurling insults and poking me in the back. Burke was a golden gloves boxer and had a bad attitude about a lot of things including me. I had not had any occasions to argue with him about anything and only had a couple of classes together with him. I think Burke was trying to show off in front of his friends thinking it would make him look tough.

Contrary to how these two incidents in high school sound I was not a fighting type of person but had boundaries of tolerance for stupidity and arrogance. During this study hall Burke continuously poked me and insulted me and refused to stop even though I had repeatedly asked him to. Feeling like I needed to communicate on his lower level of understanding I finally stood up, turned around and threw a desk at him. Even his training as a boxer had not prepared him for something like this. He quickly jumped up and moved the desk away just as the teacher came over and walked us both down to the office. There was no good excuse for either of our actions and we both were punished equally by a football coach with a paddle. Burke never bothered me again and we were civil towards each other after that.

Hopefully anyone reading or hearing this will not follow my errant ways to settle a dispute but will, in the words of the late John Lennon, “give peace a chance”.

THE ENTERTAINERS BAND & THE PIG

During my junior year in high school, I was asked to join the Entertainers Band. Someone at band camp had heard me playing my trumpet and told the band that I was a good musician and that they should get me to play with them. It was 1967 and in Sumter and most of the music teens listened to was of the beach, soul, and R&B variety. The Entertainers Band consisted of 3 guitars, a saxophone, two trumpets, a drummer and 3 singers. We practiced at a very small uninhabited house near two of the guitar player’s homes that we referred to as “the shack”.  I later found out that Becky’s dad had previously owned this house and she had lived there as a child years earlier.

The Entertainers Band had paying gigs most Friday and Saturday nights usually at teen and community centers. Our audiences were mostly teenagers and young adults and we usually played to groups of 50-75 people. One of the singers father had a large box van that we used to haul the equipment around in and after paying for gas and expenses I would usually make about $40-50 per night plus free snacks. As was the custom back then we all had matching shirts and certain choreographed moves during the music where we would move around with some showmanship.

Often the dance floor would get crowded, and people would crowd up really close to the band. One night the other trumpet player busted his lip after running into a dancer while doing one of our moves and was unable to play anymore. I had to improvise both trumpet parts for the rest of the night, but it worked out alright. The most formal gig we ever played for was the Manning High School junior-senior prom. As I recall we were well received even though their high school and ours were rivals in sports.

I started dating Becky after I started playing with The Entertainers. Her parents did not approve of dancing or loud music, both of which I was very involved with. When I did meet her parents for the first time and unknowingly referred to her former home as “the shack” where we practiced Becky’s parents were even more offended. Thankfully I was eventually able to recover some standing in their eyes, but they never let Becky attend any of the dances I played at. I later left the band and started working at the Piggly Wiggly grocery store after school and on Saturdays. This gave me more time to date Becky and enjoy time with her since I was not playing in the band on Friday and Saturday nights anymore. Working at the Piggly Wiggly also helped me improve my standing with Becky’s parents as people had to eat but did not have to dance!

At the Piggly Wiggly grocery store I stocked shelves, weighed produce, and bagged at the check outs. One night we were all busy stocking and the assistant manager, Ray, told me to go find him a shelf stretcher to set up a display. I assumed it would be a pallet like thing to put at the end of a shelf. Ray said that Mike had used it last and would know where it was. I found Mike and asked him about it and Mike said Barry had it last and I should ask him where it was. This continued until I had been sent to every other employee there except the store manager, Mr. Harry Atkinson. When I finally approached him Mr. Harry laughed and said there was no such thing as a shelf stretcher and the group had been playing a trick on me. This was their way of initiating a new guy and showing me that I was now part of their team.

Saturdays were always the busiest days for bagging and carrying groceries out for people. I learned quickly that certain people had very specific ways they wanted their groceries bagged and got very proficient at remembering how customers wanted their items bagged. Only three cans per bag for some of the more frail folks who could only lift a small amount of weight to carry the bags into their homes. All the soft items bagged together for others and double bag everything for some of the people who liked to use the big paper grocery bags for trash bags but did not want to spend money buying trash bags. Whenever some of Becky’s family members were checking out, I would always try to time it so I got to bag and carry out their order to try and impress them at how nice Becky’s boyfriend was. As time passed, I was able to meet more of her extended family and they always made me feel welcome. 

MODEL AIRPLANES

I have been interested in aviation for as long as I can remember. My first models were plastic, non-flying models that my dad and I put together. He and I built many plastic models together and he would tell me facts about the airplanes as we built them. Once when we were building a model of a P-51 Mustang he told me about a time during the war (WW2) when he and his group of Marines were on an island in the South Pacific being strafed by a Japanese Zero airplane. The Zero had already made a couple of strafing runs on them when a Mustang suddenly appeared and shot the Zero down. The Mustang pilot then flew back over them and wagged his wings before disappearing over the mountain again. My dad said that he and his Marine buddies were very thankful the P-51 pilot had come along when he did.

Some of the plastic models we built were rather complicated and took several hours to build. I remember one large multi-engine model we had been working on had taken an especially long time to build. I was about eight years old and we had spent several evenings working on the project together but still had a lot more to do to finish it. My bedtime arrived and I went to bed but the next morning when I woke up the model was finished and sitting on the dresser next to my bed. My dad had stayed up late into the night to finish building the model. We enjoyed putting the decals on it the next evening and discussed facts about the airplane.

Even though there were radio-controlled airplanes as early as 1938 model airplane radio-controlled systems were still in the early stages of development when I was a kid. I remember first seeing an advertisement for one in a magazine. It was an ad stating that if you sold a certain quantity of magazines, you could win a radio-controlled airplane. A bit of quick math on my part and I figured that I would have to sell hundreds of magazines to achieve the sales level equal to actually getting the RC airplane. Having never actually seen an RC model airplane I bought a copy of Model Airplane News magazine and began to read up on how they worked. In addition to being very cool and at the cutting-edge of 1960s technology they were very expensive and pretty much out of my reach financially at the time.

What I could afford was a Cox Hobbies .049 powered control line model plane. This airplane was made of plastic and flown by attaching two strings to a bell crank mounted onto the airplane. You would start the engine, tune it up to the maximum rpm, as indicated by a loud screaming noise, then get a friend to hold onto it until you walked the 25 or so feet away and picked up the control handle. By using wrist movements you could control whether the model went up or down as you turned around in circles along with the model. The trick was to keep the model from crashing and keep from getting dizzy before the fuel ran out and the engine stopped. The directions that came with these models even said you should practice turning around and around quickly to get used to the spinning motion.

Apparently, all of the spinning around training was only marginally useful at best as many of my friend’s flights ended abruptly with the airplane crashing due to pilot dizziness. With this in mind I experimented with using longer lines between the model and the pilot which proved to be helpful in slowing the spinning motion. The longer lines meant a bigger flight circle which some of my friends failed to consider before taking off and crashing into a tree after half a lap.

With a growing number of partially crashed .049 powered model airplanes in the neighborhood I became a broker of “used aviation equipment”. I would offer to buy the broken models at a low salvage price then strip down the usable parts for resale to others as replacement parts. Often, I would make an oddball plane out of multiple salvaged parts I had acquired then launch them free flight mode. This meant setting the control surfaces of the plane such that it, if it got off the ground at all, would climb and gently turn with the hope that it would glide back down and land without hitting someone or something expensive to replace. While these flights provided lots of entertainment, they never ended well for the airplanes but just added a few more spare parts to my inventory. Thankfully they never ended in anyone getting hurt and no broken car windshields.

My first radio-controlled airplane was a Junior Falcon that was sold as a balsa wood kit by the Carl Goldberg Model Company. It had a 37” wingspan and was powered with a Cox Golden Bee .049 engine. Since radio control systems were still very expensive, I had an older friend who loaned me an older single channel RC system. With this system I could only control the rudder movement. You would start the engine and hand launch the plane then control it with a transmitter that had one button on it. By pressing and holding the button once the plane would turn left. By pressing the button twice, it would turn right. Even though this was a very rudimentary system it was a quantum leap from my first attempts at model aircraft and I enjoyed it. I later went on to buy a used radio control system from a neighbor that had more controls and reliability.

One of my more notable RC airplane crashes occurred at the Sumter County Airport. I had purchased a used model from a friend that had a broken wing from a previous crash. After making repairs on the plane including adding fiberglass to the wing center section, I was able to make numerous successful flights without any issues. One afternoon I was flying this plane and doing a flight maneuver called a split S.  I would fly the plane up very high, roll it over upside down and let it plummet toward the ground at high speed before pulling up and then climbing back up to do over again. This puts a lot of extra stress on the wing but was really cool to watch the plane snap out of a dive into upward flight again. I had done this about 5 times when it happened. As the plane reached top speed in the dive, I pulled full up elevator only to hear a loud crack sound, then the sound of my engine winding up and the flutter of parts blowing off of my plane. Since it was still up pretty high when this happened, I had time to shut off the engine to try and slow it down but was unable to control anything else due to the loss of half the wing.

The plane looked to be diving into the ground near a very large pig pen across from the runway. The pigs in residence had recently completely eaten another modeler’s airplane when it had fallen into their pen and the pigs themselves were known to be very unfriendly and aggressive toward anyone getting into their pen to try to retrieve anything. When my plane finally came to a sudden stop when it hit the ground a hundred or so yards away, I tried to visually mark where it went down so I could find it and retrieve the parts. I searched for over 2 hours but could not find it. A light rain had started to fall and darkness was setting in so I went home planning to try again the next day.

The next day I went out searching again and checked over closer to the pig pen. The pigs came over to the fence and seemed to hurl insults at me with their grunts and squeals almost as if they had had fun eating up the remnants of my airplane. After a few more hours of searching, I stopped again and resigned myself to the fact that my model and expensive radio control system was gone.

 My dad drove out to the airport on the third day and decided to drive along the edge of the runway all the way to the end for one more look. As he was turning around at the very end of the runway, he caught site of something blue sticking up in the cornfield nearby. He got out, made his way through the muddy cornfield and was able to retrieve the parts of the plane for me. He said that the model was stuck about 8 inches into the ground when he dug it up so it apparently had been traveling fast when it hit. Even though the plane itself was a total loss I was able to repair the engine and used it and the radio system on other planes. The next time I went out to the flying field I waved at the pigs and just smiled. They continued to get their revenge on other planes that ended up inside their pen, but I never lost one to them.

THE PONYTAIL AND BOOM BOOM

My wife Becky went to first grade at the Crosswell Elementary School in Sumter, SC. Among her many classmates that year was a little girl named Melanie. Melanie had a long pony tail that would swish from side to side when she walked making her the envy of other girls with shorter hair and thus shorter pony tails. Becky’s hair was shorter than Melanie’s so did not swish very much when she walked. Apparently the swishing of little girls pony tails was an important fashion statement at school that year and Becky did not like it that Melanie’s pony tail swished more than hers.

Years later Melanie still had long hair when I met her at a church teenage youth group. My family had just moved back to Sumter that summer and it was fun for me to be included in the various youth group activities. Melanie and I got to be friends and we were invited on a double date with my sister, Cathy, and a friend of ours named Pec. After getting burgers at Big Jims, the local drive in restaurant, Pec decided to take us all over to the Sumter water works to “watch the sailboat races”. The water works was actually only a huge city water tank surrounded by a large field. The field had very little lighting and was a favorite place for teenagers to go parking. The term going to “watch the sailboat races” was another way of saying that we were going to park in the dark and make out.

I had never been parking on a date before and with my sister sitting in the front seat I was a bit unsure of what was going to happen when we arrived “at the sailboat races”. Sensing my inexperience in these matters the little girl with the long pony tail, that had now grown into a pretty teenager and had blossomed into womanhood, made the first move. To say that I was surprised would be an understatement. Melanie laid a big kiss on me and began hugging me close. Cathy glanced back and saw what she later laughingly described as “Melanie had Craig pinned down and he was trying to come up for air”!

Melanie and I remained friends after that but never really dated again as I met Becky soon after that eventful evening. Between having the longer pony tail in the first grade and having kissed her new boyfriend Melanie remained un-liked by Becky and gained the nickname “Boom Boom”.  Becky, however, was later introduced to “watching the sailboat races” after trips to Big Jims. We still don’t know who won the boat race but had fun going to watch.

SUMMER JOBS DURING MY TEENAGE YEARS

After we moved back to Sumter, SC in 1967 I had a few different jobs during school breaks and summers. I worked for a homebuilt airplane parts distributor, a construction company, a helicopter crop spraying company, and a Piggly Wiggly grocery store.

The federal Occupational Safety and Health Administration (O.S.H.A.) was not law until December 1970. This federal act set safety standards to help protect workers from injury and was generally regarded as a helpful legislation. All my jobs during my teenage years were before O.S.H.A. went into effect so some of my teenage work situations could be considered a bit risky at best if not outright dangerous.

While working my school vacation construction jobs with Boyle Construction Company I was on a steel erection crew setting steel beams and columns for a new school one summer. A crane would lift the massive steel beams up and we would climb up the supporting columns to bolt them onto the support structures. The trick was to get your end lined up and started faster than the guy on the other end so you would not have to climb back down and get a cutting torch to trim some steel out of the way. I learned how to climb up steel I beams like a monkey that summer and was fortunate not to fall off any of the 20-foot-high beams.

During my winter school break that year I worked with another steel erection crew on a job in Florence, SC. We were building huge concrete tanks so were tying steel rebar into position on concrete pouring forms. Rebar refers to the round steel reinforcement rods that go inside of concrete structures to give them strength. It was cold, icy, muddy, and rainy one day as I was tying the rebar at about the ten-foot-high level. As I started climbing over to the next area to tie off more steel my muddy boot slipped and I fell down into the knee-deep mud puddle below barely missing the rebars sticking up from the concrete structure below. The other members of the crew called down to me to see how badly I was hurt and thankfully I was just scraped up, bruised and very muddy. The job superintendent ran over and checked me over for injuries then helped me over to the job office trailer. The heat inside the trailer felt great and helped me to dry out some. I found out later that another member of that steel crew had fallen onto some rebar and died from his injuries a few months earlier. After that close call I was assigned the job of greasing the crane and was glad that the crane operator would lower the crane boom to the ground so I could grease it without climbing up the icy mast.

Another of my summer jobs was driving a truck for a helicopter crop dusting company. The helicopter pilot was a retired Air Force colonel and was a man of few words. I drove the supply truck to the various fields and farms where the colonel would spray the crops from his helicopter. My job consisted of mixing the chemicals, pumping them into the helicopter’s spray tanks and refueling the helicopter while it was still running. The colonel wanted this refilling and refueling process to be done as fast as possible. My routine was to have the chemical tank pump running and a fuel can handy the instant he touched down. He had shown me how to refuel the helicopter and cautioned me that there were only a few inches of clearance between the rapidly spinning rotor blade and the top of the fuel can. Knowing that aviation gas is very flammable and that I was pouring it into a tank on top of a hot engine I was extra cautious when refueling.  Thankfully I completed that summer job without losing any body parts or blowing anything up!

Working at the Piggly Wiggly grocery store, a.k.a. The Pig was much safer than my previous teenage jobs. I enjoyed stocking, pricing, blocking, rotating, and bagging the groceries. I was also able to work after school and Saturdays instead of just on breaks from school so enjoyed a more regular part time income. After working at the Pig for a few months I was put in charge of restocking the produce section and weighing the vegetables for customers. This was considered a small promotion by some at the store because the owner was a very picky lady and wanted it displayed in a certain way. The fact that I had previously helped her young grandsons build kites for a school project probably also helped her notice me.

WATERLOGGED!

I have fallen asleep in many different places in my life. As a child I would fall asleep riding my stuffed dog, Brownie, while my mom ran the vacuum cleaner. I have fallen asleep in the barber’s chair getting a haircut in Pleasant Garden I have even fallen asleep while sitting on a toilet. One of my most memorable sleeping episodes was in an old footed bathtub where I slept an entire night in a tub of water.

It was during the summer of 1971 and I had stayed at Becky’s house until late. I was supposed to pick her up the next morning so we could drive to church together. Sunday morning came and Becky’s family left their house to go to church after being informed that I would be coming by to pick her up and drive us both there. Becky waited on her porch but I never showed up. To make matters worse she had mistakenly locked her keys inside the house so had no way of calling to check on me. When her parents arrived home they were irritated that she had not been at church. When Becky got back inside her house their telephone was ringing. It was my sister Luanne calling to ask if she knew where I was because my car was in the driveway but they could not find me. Becky replied that she had not seen nor heard from me either. Luanne then went upstairs and knocked on my bathroom door. Her knocking woke me up. I was abruptly awakened and shocked to find myself waterlogged and lying in a bathtub of cold water looking like a prune. Apparently I had been soaking in the water for about eleven hours.  I replied to Luanne that I was okay then slowly and stiffly crawled out of the tub, dried off and got dressed. When I called Becky to explain she alternated between being angry with me and laughing hysterically at my overnight soak in the bathtub. It took several days for my prune looking skin to normalize again so I had to repeat my embarrassing explanation several times to several different people who would look at me then ask “what happened to you?”!

Over the years I have continued to be able to sleep in many other places but never again in a bathtub.