My Early Years, Part II
It was during this period that I experienced my first real emotional
traumas. The first was the result of my close emotional ties to my mother. Up
to this time, she had been a stay at home mom. We needed more money and mom
went to work as a cashier. I remember crying hysterically when she would go
off to work. Closely connected to this was my starting to go to public
school. There were no special education classes for this was around 1944-45.
I would walk with Dan to school and would be ok until I would see this tall
janitor at school. For some reason, he scared the hell out of me.
Psychoanalysts would probably say that I displaced my separation anxiety on
to the fellow, I really don’t know. Counter to this was my first grade
teacher, Mr.s Burke. She would grab me up and hug me every day I came to
school. All the anxiety would melt away. I really regret that we now live in
a society where school teachers can no longer afford to hug children. I spent
the major portion of my life as a teacher and I can't help but credit some of
it to Mrs. Burke’s hugs, because she made school a warm, safe place when I
really needed to feel safe. My brother, Dan, was in the fourth grade and his
teacher and my mom did not get along at all. This would later become a big
“thing” in my life. But Mrs. Burke did other things which made me feel
adequate. I remember once where she taught us to draw a cat using circles. I
tried real hard and drew a “fine cat” which she put up on the bulletin board
for everybody to see. I was as proud at the cat at that moment as I was with
many other achievements in life. Come to think of it, Mrs. Burke could teach
other teachers alot about making children feel good about themselves. She
taught me to read. My first words were, “Run, Spot run.”Later in a higher
grade, Mrs. Clark, was a “bear” on being able to read. The first day in her
class, she had everyone read aloud. When some unfortunate kid would stumble
over words she really came down on them. I was so petrified at the thought of
having that ol’ biddy on my case, I remained in class during recess and
protracted about where we would be in the reading when it came my turn and
proceeded to memorize the passages. It worked and she immediately recommended
me for advance classes. I guess this was the first time I learned to con and
manipulate to get the heat off. It’s funny, I can remember most of my grammar
schools teacher’s names.
After I finally got over the separation anxiety of being away from my
mother, I liked messing around after school. It was a six block walk to
school and the main attraction along the way was crossing the Southern
Pacific railroad tracks. We were only a couple of block from the San Antonio
depot (train station) which was glorious Spanish architecture. My last trip
to a professional meeting last spring was to San Antonio and I stayed at the
Marriott River walk which over looked the depot which is still there and
remodeled. During my early school years, most railroad engines were still
coal driven steam engines. Starting out from the depot, these engines would
put out plenty of smoke. There were still lots of troop trains coming and
going to San Antonio at this time. Pat Rutledge had an older brother,
Richard. I recall Richard and me going to the SP depot and laying around on
the old baggage carts. I thought at the time laying around and being a bum
would be the most fun a person could have. I guess that’s when the idea of
being a college professor first hit me. It’s funny how writing this now makes
me recall the things along the route to school. I particularly recall a
business which made or repaired furniture. The smells coming from that place
fascinated me.
We lived in Victoria Courts until I was in the 3rd grade, then we
purchase Mom and Dad’s first house and moved to another part of San Antonio
near two large Air Force Bases, Kelly and Lackland. I went to a new school
and Mrs. Matthews taught me in 4th grade. Her son, Gary, was a “blue baby”.
He was born with a defect in his heart and this was before open heart
surgery. Because hi father was a colonel in the Air Force, Gary was one of
the first children to have open heart surgery later when we were both in
“special education”. Because he was already in junior high and was playing
football, Dan continued going to the same school. Changing schools can be
traumatic and I was not as accepted by the kids at this school as I was at my
first. Mrs. Matthews and Mrs. Carrico, my 5th grade teacher were both nice. I
remember Mrs. Carrico was a real Texas buff. We would study Texas geography
and the Texas Revolution. I hated geography because Mrs. Carrico would write
all over every blackboard in the room and we were to copy it down. My CP
affected my handwriting most of all (it still does) and I was always way
behind in copying stuff from the board down. I came to hate terms like the
Edwards Plateau, the Coastal Plains, etc. We also did a play about Texas
geography and it won some kind of award. My role in the play was as a Black
cotton picker, in full vaudeville-type black face. We would sing, “Jump down,
turn around and pick a bale of cotton.” No one thought anything about this at
the time. We did the play for the school, for groups of teachers and anyone
else who wanted to see it.
It was shortly before we moved to our new home that we bought a Collie
dog and named her, Lady. Mom and Dad bought her for Dan, but she was really
the whole family’s dog. I remember coming home from school and lady was
staked outside as a pup and she would lick me in the face as I got home. This
was probably the smartest and most loyal dog I have ever known. Once we
moved, Lady had the run of the neighborhood. She became very protective and
once sniffed at a cat that was in our yard. She had a long nose as Collie's
do and the cat reached and scratched Lady’s nose. It made two scars on the
dog’s nose and from that day forward, Lady hated cats. As Dan became more
involved in high school, Lady became “my dog”. She would follow me around,
even when I rode my bicycle. When TV first came to San Antonio, our neighbors
down the street were the first family with a TV, and I would ride my bike
over to their house and Lady would follow me. One night, Lady was off chasing
something when I left, but I thought little of it because she did this often
and would always come home. On my way home, this very mean dog was loose and
began chasing me and I was so petrified, I quit pedaling and watched him
getting closer and closer to my ankle. Suddenly this fast flying brown streak
hit this dog and made it roll over and over. When this dog came to a stop,
Lady was over him with its throat in her mouth shaking it like a rag doll. I
was never so relieved. Speaking of my bike, that is a story in itself,
considering my problems with balance.
Learning to ride a bike was a long process for me. The family did not
have that much money and so we got an Army surplus bicycle cheap(I have no
idea how much it cost, but probably $5 to 10 at most). It was a heavy and
sturdy bike used by the Army. I could not ride it with two wheels, so my dad
took it to his work and had one of the welders to fasten a third wheel on it.
They did not manufacture three wheel bikes back then. I learned to ride this
three wheeled contraption and was satisfied for a while. The third wheel
tire never seemed to stay inflated, so after a while, I just rode it flat.
Then I became tired of looking like a freak with this three wheel
monstrosity, so I began leaning to the left ass I rode to bring the third
wheel up and I learned to ride on two wheels. This all took about 3 months.
Finally, one day I got up the courage to ask Dad to cut off the third wheel.
He hesitated because (1) he wasn’t sure I could ride on a two wheel bike,
and (2) he had gone to some trouble to get the welders to put the third wheel
on in the first place. He finally relented and I began to ride wobbly down
our street on two wheels. My problem was turning in gravel and our streets
had lots of gravel. For some reason I cannot explain, when I turned the front
wheel would slide out from under me and I would be pitched onto the gravel
and pavement. I always seemed to hit my elbow in the fall and it was always
skinned up. Finally, the elbow became infected and I was forbidden to ride
for a week. I still rode when no one was watching and the “slides” became
less frequent. My later, a family friend bought me a new bicycle with a
battery driven head light. The first day I got that bike I rode well past
dark and Mom and some neighbors found me unconscious in the street. I had
become so tired, I guess, I fell off my bike and was knocked out. That was
some bicycle.
I loved to explore things around my neighborhood and Mom and Dad both
worked during my after schools and Dan had football practice or whatever big
brothers do. I had a single shot Daisy BB gun and would take it and Lady and
stay out until supper time. I became a good shot and killed some birds. There
were lots of places to explore near our neighborhood. There was an old gravel
pit used for a dump and a large wooded area near the AFB. Lady and I had lots
of fun here. Later, my folks got me a Red Rider lever action BB gun. Dan and
I had had real22’s, but I could only shoot them when Dad and Dan and I went
well out of town. We were taught never to mess with the .22 and I remember
the ammunition boxes had in bold letters “Good Up to a Range of One Mile” .
We took this to heart. Shortly after WW II, a contractor offered my dad a
job. By this time, Dad had been working for a Caterpillar dealership as a
diesel mechanic. The contract had a job on a very large ranch outside Laredo,
Texas.
The US Government had leased this land during the war to be used for aerial
gunnery practice. All the ponds on the ranch had deteriorated, since no human
was allowed on this land for the previous 7 years. The contractor wanted my
dad to stay full time on the ranch so if a tractor became disabled, they
would not have to haul it in to San Antonio for repairs. So Dad took Dan with
him. They were there one entire summer. The abundance of wild life was
incredible and they would bring back sets of rattlesnake rattlers with 10 to
15 rattlers. Dan became a real class marksman on this trip.
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