CHS '51...Memories of a great class...
It is New Year's Day 2019 and I sit
here, in my warm cozy attic with
another year dawning, and hear
the fifty mph wind whipping around
the corner of our upstairs room---
moaning a bit thru the barely-
cracked-open-window...for fresh air.
Not to worry, the small woodstove,
holding two 18" cedar logs, and
just poppin' away, is merrily doing
its job and keeping the attic warm!
I like to get away from it all and come
up here and reminisce, or read, or maybe
doze a bit under some quilts. It might
look like a man cave to some...on
viewing the fishing rods, in the corner
...and the old beat-up pair of
hip boots-patched and all- hanging
there on a nail...and the fishing cap
loaded with tangled-up fishing flies
galore.
I myself tied that Rio Grande King,
hanging on the cap's bill.
There's a much-used USMC Ka-Bar,
WWII vintage, stuck in the end of the
rough pine (unfinished) bookshelf
containing many of my favorite
books from life.
To any folks out there who just
might happen to venture up here
accidentally, that big 3' X 4 ' photo
hanging on the wall over the 3/4
army surplus bed is the famous shot
of U.S. Marines raising the flag over
Mt. Surabachi. It is my favorite photo.
The atmosphere and the reverence this
place holds for me is almost
indescribable. It would take many
paragraphs to describe the historical
items, everywhere you look. You would
have a lump in your throat, like me.
There's Dad's ancient grubbing hoe
in a corner...the one that planted Victory
Gardens in our backyard during WWII.
And we dug catfish-fishing worms with
it (to use fishing on the Pecos River near
Ft. Summer) in the forties.
Up on top of the bookcase, barely
visible, is Dad's prized bamboo fly-fishing
rod, bought at Monkey Wards in Clovis
right after the war. You can't afford 'em
nowadays...bamboo.
High school and college annuals lie
around almost everywhere. Probably
from some previous stormy-day-muse.
Grandmother's old cane bottom chair,
likely from the twenties, sits there by
the bed---still stacked high with her
colorful quilts, made a century ago,
at some gossipy quilting party.
at some gossipy quilting party.
The chair looks today just like it looked
for decades---a storage place for her
"company" quilts, there in the back
room of the garage, where the boys
slept before they left for WWII, and
Italy and New Guinea. I inherited that
chair...and the quilts.
Today will be a grand day up here,
with no radios or TV going to upset
my psyche!
I checked my larder shelf and picked
out a can of healthful food... the very
best: Van Camp Beanie Weenies;
then located a jar of pimento olives,
a can of potato chips, and a half-
roll of Ritz Crackers. Did I say: onion?
I grabbed the last Delaware Punch
(specially-ordered in from Old
Mexico), and the price, uh, well
can't reveal that; BE might read this.
Settled down with the CHS '51
annual and sat at the garage sale
writing table, and ate and perused
old times...and old friends...as seemed
fittin' on this special day beginning
the new year.
And there in my purple-and-white
CHS Annual, dated 1951, were scenes
from Main Street...with kids "dragging
Main." It set me to thinking of places
which date back seven decades!
State Theater, Lyceum, Barry Hardware,
Woolworth, Standridge Drug, Silver
Grill, Coney Island, Duckworth Drug,
Montgomery Ward, Sunshine Theater,
Fox Drug, and Gateway Auto.
Then came the photos in the CHS
Yearbook of the 128 seniors that
graduated that day in May of 1951.
We had begun our journey together
in September of 1939…half of us at
Eugene Field and half at La Casita
schools….all the kids were six years
old except for several young ones.
As I quietly leafed through that historic
annual, I remembered all these class-
mates…some I knew better than others.
Not knowing for sure which ones were
deceased and which ones still living, I
began a list of my CHS ’51 peers.
Jerry Roberts, Engle Southard, Joyce
Green, Betty Hillhouse, Rita Delaney,
John Thorn Marshall, Gene Walker,
Phyllis Lee, Wanda King, Art Snipes,
Don Todd, Jack Murphy, John Sieren,
Sue Taylor, Sue Barnett, Bill Hale, R.G.
Snipes, Bruce Davis, Zeno Crosswhite,
Frank Blackburn, Jimmy Whatley, Jack
Winton, Donald Mardis, Geraldine Ed-
wards, Shade Goar…and the list went on
and on.
A few had dropped in on us along the
way...Albin from Mertzon, on Pearl
Harbor Day; Fawnette from Belen,
and June from...somewhere.
As I looked through the photos of
the 128 kids that graduated that fine
spring day, May 17, 1951, I thought
of Don Todd's great description of our
growing up time--"those matchless days,"
and what Jimmy Blair wrote to me one
Christmas in the nineties: "Every one of
them was dear to my heart..."
And there was my dear friend Robert
Stebbins, who had written a note in
green ink on the BDC page: "To a
swell guy. Robert."
Everything, in a way, WAS "swell" then.
But, there's more...there's another name,
and one of the best guys of all...I came
to Levi, and I thought of the thousand
things we had done, and...I just couldn't
go on, I lost it for a long time...and in a
way, I was weeping for them all...who
had already left us...and gone on...
After a time, with the wind still whipping
and the old mulberry limb whomping the
brick wall outside, I began to sing quietly
to myself, in fond memory, a song taught
to us by--who else--Mr. Barton...
"There is nothing like a dame.
Nothing in this world...
There is nothing you can name
That is anything like a dame."
A strange thing to sing, you say. Well
I can understand--you weren't there...
I left my attic hide-a-way, singing softly...
"Other schools have different colors,
and different emblems too;
But Clovis' sons and daughters
Have the white and purple true.
These are our colors royal
and may we ne'er forget
That while they robe the Monarch
They deck the violet."
....School song...Harry Barton
-----------
MIL
4 January 2019
(From the attic...)
No comments:
Post a Comment