Pinehurst:: Seventh Grade

WHISTLE

It was early in the school year, and may have been the first week. I was going somewhere, and needed to walk past the school. I was just reaching the breezeway, when I heard a "wolf-whistle." So I turned to see what was going on. A ninth grade guy, was standing by the doorway. He turned to his friend and said something about the "new" seventh-graders. I can't remember exactly what it was, but I had the distinct impression it was about my anatomy. I was mortified. (In those days you were.) I couldn't stand the sight of that kid from that day on, and if I went to the Tall Pine for lunch with friends, and any of the upper class men were there, I could not eat. I had to get my food to go.

BLOCK

In the seventh grade, at Pinehurst Jr. High, which was at one end of the grade school, I only had 3 different teachers. The first 3 hours was called "block" and it included English, Literature, Grammar, Writing, and Social Studies - or some combination thereof. Mrs. Clark was our teacher. She was a short lady who wore extremely high, high heels and a wig. She wasn't very old, but she must have had thin hair, because we never saw her without her wig.

I really liked her class. My favorite day was Friday, because we would play games and if we "won" we got a candy bar from her closet. I loved it when we took long words or phrases like "Merry Christmas" and had to make as many words as possible out of it in an alloted time. I usually won those contests! That's when I always picked a "Mountain Bar" - cherry or plain - it didn't matter. My second choice was either a Hershey Bar or something else chocolate.

In her class, we learned about prepositions. One day, I turned the tide on my enjoyment of her class. Now you have to realize I was a very curious student, and also very precise. If I was going to learn something, I wanted to learn it the right way the first time.

That day, she was teaching on the difference between the uses of "in" and "into." She said that one would use the word "into" when they were passing through a doorway or opening of some kind. I raised my hand to ask a question to clarify what she had just said. "So every time someone or something goes through a doorway, you use the word into?"

"Yes" she stated as a matter-of-fact.

"But you can't go into the outdoors, can you?" I asked trying to clarify her point.

She snapped, "Well, you don't have to act so superior!"

I was stunned. Did I act "so superior"? To whom? I was only 12 or 13. At the time, I was crushed, because she raised her voice and told me off in front of the entire class. Now I look back and wonder if she was intimidated by her students, and I just happened to hit on an exposed nerve.

My other classes were Science with E. Johnson, and Math and Study hall with W. Gilman. Now, Science class was okay, until we reached the chapter on reproduction. We were studying plants, but I thought that subject was "taboo" and was mortified that the word was in our books. One day when I was reading aloud, the word was there - right in the middle of my paragraph. I approached it cautiously, but when it was time to read "reproduction" I froze.

"Reproduction," Mr. Johnson said, as if I couldn't pronounce the word.

Quickly, I spat, "reproduction" and continued with the sentence. I probably turned 6 shades of red, also. Fortunately, I don't think any of my classmates noticed, as they had their heads buried in their books, afraid to look around.

My parents were somewhat concerned about me being in W. Gilman's class. I had known him my whole life, and they were afraid I'd call him "Wally" instead of Mr. Gilman, but I didn't. I was very respectful, even though he had dropped me on my head one time at Rose Lake when I was five. (He had given me a piggy-back ride down to the lake, and tripped. We both flew forward and I lost a chunk of hair out of my head. For a five year old, I was mad, and didn't want him to carry me ever again!) I didn't bring it up in class, however, or study hall either.

I don't remember if I had a study hall past the 7th grade. It may have been mandatory in 8th grade also, but I never took it in High School. I felt it was a waste of time. I wanted to get on with the schoolwork!

DANCES

I was excited about being in Jr. High and getting to go to the dances. Some dances were held in the cafeteria, and some were held in the gymnasium. When they were held in the cafeteria, there was volleyball set up in the gymnasium. Most of the girls hated it when the dances were in the cafeteria, that meant all the seventh grade boys and some of the older ones were going to play volleyball all night, and there wouldn't be anyone to dance with. I don't think I was asked to dance more than once or twice each time I went, and sometimes not at all, but I still went because it was the happening place in Jr. High.

When a class "put on" (sponsored) a dance, members of the class volunteered to take care of the details. Some decorated, some "set-up" and some "cleaned-up." We also had volunteers who made cookies to sell at the dance, so the class could make some money. I used to make chocolate cake-like cookies with frosting on them. (The recipe was from D. Boje, who was an excellent cook, and raised a few great cooks). Those cookies were usually the first to go.


GIRLS' SERVICE

My seventh grade year, I was tapped for "Service Girls." Only 2 seventh graders were asked, and the positions were selected by a group of teachers or the principal or somebody "up there."
I felt honored and said, "Yes." C. Clemens was also a Service Girl and President that year. I was happy to serve with her and the other upper class girls. The other seventh grader was T. Cooper. Her mom was the school secretary, and I wondered if that is why she was chosen. I figured I was chosen for my grades. (Maybe we were chosen because we each lived about a block from the school! Now that I think about it, the Service girls that I remember all lived within the city limits and within 4-5 blocks of the school grounds!)

As a service girl, we got to wear cool green sweaters with Pirates on them - signifying our mascot - Pinehurst Pirates. They were similar to the cheerleader's sweaters, but their sweaters had a megaphone or a large "P" on them. We also had the "Girl's Service" insignia on our the upper part of our sleeves. I had to have a white pleated skirt made for me. I think it was Mrs. Weeks who did that. All she needed was my waist measurement. I wondered how she would know how many pleats to put into the skirt, but she did a great job. We also wore knee socks and saddle shoes.

I was so excited, because I got to go to all the basketball games free! We took money for tickets and stood at the doors to show people where they could sit. It didn't bother me that we couldn't sit in the stands until the 4th quarter - if there was any room! We may have taken tickets for other events, such as dances, but I don't remember.

I was a "Service Girl" for all three years of Jr. High. My freshman year, I was the President of Girls' Service as well as class President. One time, I was called upon by the Principal to escort a kid from first grade to the clinic in Kellogg for his immunizations. We rode on a school bus, just the two of us with the driver. I was astonished that they trusted me enough to go with him "out of town," and see that he got his shots. The kid was a hoot. I think he talked the whole way there, all the time we were waiting at the clinic. He made voices and acted out some really funny stuff. I don't remember the trip back to school, but I thought about him later when I was substitute teaching and thought he must have been a handful for the teachers.

Vacations (6)

The Fourth of July - in Provo, Utah.

Nearly every summer we went on vacation, we spent July 4th in Utah. When I was younger we would stay at Grandma Smith's and wake up to the sound of cannon fire. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! (I think they had a cannon situated on each side of town, North, East, South, and West, and they took turns firing to welcome Independence Day.

In the late morning, there would be a parade down one of the main streets. Just before the start of the parade, a group of jets would fly over the parade route and get our hearts pumping. Then the parade would start. These parades were good sized as they lasted about an hour - and hour and a half. There were numerous large floats, bands, etc. My favorite times of going to the parade was when I was a teenager, and my cousin Lee Dawn and I would walk along parade route displaying our latest fashion and attitude.

Speaking of Parades

One year, some of my cousins came to Pinehurst for either July 4th or Pinehurst Days. We had a parade that year that started at the Creek and came past our house on Main St. We set up lawn chairs, and waited for the parade to begin. Our parades usually started with the sirens of the local fire department or police, followed by the color guard. We heard the sirens and looked up the street. "Here comes the parade!" we yelled to our parents, who were waiting inside. "Here it comes!"

Our parents came out to the lawn and sat comfortably awaiting their front row view of Pinehurst's parade. I think we had one float that year. . .and my Aunt D. could see the end from the beginning. She was astounded. The entire parade was only 1 block long. We could literally see the end of the parade from the beginning, and she started laughing. She thought it was the funniest thing she had ever seen. People were sitting out, waiting for a 1-block long parade. She has never let us hear the end of it. "You call that a parade?" She would taunt us. Then she would tell anyone who would listen about all the hoopla surrounding our 5-minute, one float parade.

Back to Provo's 4th of July celebration

Along with the parade, Provo also hosted a very large carnival for Independence Day. We would go and spend a lot of money on rides, toys, treats, and a great time. It was there I first rode an elephant, went on a mini-ferris wheel with enclosed baskets to sit in, one a prize at a booth, and ate cotton candy. I loved the carnival.

In the evening, My cousins and I would sit on either Grandma Smith's porch, Aunt H's porch (one block closer), eat watermelon, and wait for the 4th of July Fireworks to be set off at the BYU campus. It was the highlight of our vacation in Utah. When we were teens, we'd walk to the fence just outside the area where they were shooting them off. It was my first look at fireworks from underneath, where they were literally falling on us.

Pinehurst: Snippets from '63 - '64

Three cents for the Governor

I used to get an allowance to spend each week. When I was in Smelterville, I think it was 50 cents - but in Pinehurst I think it was raised to $1. I would walk down the street to the Post Office / craft store. In those days, the Post Office took up half the building, and a craft store was in the other half. The craft store had a lot of yarn, and the lady who worked there was usually knitting something. I really liked to buy these animal crafts in boxes with styrofoam, feathers, pipe cleaners, etc. that cost 99 cents. The one I specifically remember was an Ostrich you could make with the styrofoam balls painted lavender for the head and body. After it was made, it would stand up on it's pipecleaner legs, and it may have hung by strings so you could make it walk.

One summer day, I went down (probably on a Friday - when I got my allowance) to purchase one of these animal kits. When the lady rang it up she said, "One dollar and two cents, please."

I replied, "I thought they were 99 cents, and I only have a dollar!"

She explained, "Well, now you have to pay state tax of 3 cents on a dollar."

"I guess I can't get it then," I offered. "I'll have to go home and see if I can get 2 more cents." But I was thinking, What a rip-off. I have to pay 3 extra cents for nothing. When I went home I had to have one of my parents explain to me why a kid has to pay money and get nothing for it. They called it tax - but it really wasn't anything.


Banana Bikes

Sometime after we moved to Pinehurst, I got a new bike. I think it was for Christmas. It was larger than my first bike, and I'm pretty sure it was turquoise. (See picture. This is a 1964 Murray jet fire girls bike. Except for the seat - which was likely 2-toned turquoise and white - it looked like that.) It was a great bike, and I would ride it down to the store (Morbeck's) on the southwest corner of Division and Main. (Many of you will remember it as Wilber's store in the '70s). I'd ride it all over the playgrounds at Pinehurst school. I loved it, because with the larger tires, it would go further with each petal, than my smaller bike had.




The next year, however, bicycle styles changed, and since my bike was only a year old, I couldn't get one of the new stingray bikes - but I think my sister got one. (She may have inherited my older red bike, and was now old enough to have a nice bike of her own.) My dad didn't want me to feel like an odd ball with this old bike, so he bought me a "banana seat" and the "sting-ray" handle bars to put on my bike. (Try doing that with a kid now-a-days!) Now my bike was a monster. It was the Grandmammy of all sting rays - twice as big as most, with the cool seat and handlebars. Dad even removed the flat part of the back fender, so the transformation would be complete.



I don't know how old I was when I realized how ugly that bike was, but I eventually quit riding it - banana seat and all. Everyone else's bikes were small enough to do wheelies, and mine was a morphed-out Brontosaurus. I couldn't get the front two wheels up for anything. It was embarrassing.

Smelterville: Weekends in Pinehurst

Aside from Rollerskating, I also spent a portion of my weekends in Pinehurst, staying at the Caldwell's on main street. There house was between the Post Office and the Library and sat back away from the road. The little house we lived in when I was born, was further back and to the right of their home.

Dorothy Caldwell was a school teacher (fourth grade) in Pinehurst, and she was like a grandmother to me. (My grandparents all lived in Utah, and I only saw them about once a year). She and her husband, Glen, had 5 kids who were 7 yrs or more older than I. The two daughters M & D used to babysit me when I was very young. When I was 5, I was the flowergirl in M's wedding. I spent many days and likely a few nights at D & her husband R's place - off and on through my younger years.

On weekends, I had a standing invitation to spend the night at Dorothy and Glen's. I would sleep on the hide-a-bed, watch cartoons on Sat morning, eat Trix cereal and play with their dog Coonie. (By this time Lucky was gone.) Sometimes I would plunk out melodies on their piano, or listen to their youngest son play the "Flying Purple People Eater" on his record player. (He also had a Flying Purple People Eater stuffed animal that hung high by his bedroom door, but I wasn't afraid of it because it was too little to eat anyone.)

One week, Dorothy called me and said she had a surprise for me when I came to stay. I really wanted to know what it was, and she told me a new family had moved in next door (behind the Post Office) and they had a little girl I could play with. She told me the family was all boys except the one little girl, and she was excited for me to come and play.

That weekend, I met the Carvers for the first time. The parents and all 6 kids lived in the very small home. I remembered the parents bedroom was past the kitchen before we'd go out the back door in a porchlike area. (And it probably was). They had just moved to Idaho from West Virginia at the invitation of some relatives who lived in the eastern part of Shoshone County. They had four boys, the girl, and then another baby boy. The girl M and I became very good friends, but I also became friends with the boys who were near my age. G was my age, S, a year older, and B 3 yrs older.

When I went over to play with M, we usually ended up outside playing Tarzan with some of her brothers. S was Tarzan, I was Jane, M was "girl" (a role we invented for her), G was Boy and B was Cheeta. They was no tree house, but we would play in the base of the trees and pretend it was a tree house. When we couldn't play outside, we would watch movies inside. I really looked forward to going to Caldwell's and playing with the Carver kids.

In addition to being my weekend get-away, the Caldwells also were the first people I knew who bought a color televison. They got theirs in about 1963. Our family was invited to come every Sunday night to watch Bonanza and Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color in COLOR! It became our Sunday night ritual and I loved it.

Smelterville - kindergarten & tonsils

We moved to Smelterville before I entered Kindergarten. My parents rented a blue house on the main street, that still stands today. It was right behind a lumber office, and next to some apt buildings (or an old motel). The house had two front doors, one that went into the kitchen on the left, and one that accessed the living room on the right. We only used the one in the kitchen. It had two bedrooms, a bath, and it also had a small utility room. The kitchen and living room were much larger than the ones we had at the Robinson's house. Outside the yard was enclosed by a wooden fence, and attached to a carport. We lived there until May of 1963, and I don't think anyone has lived there since.

Although we lived in Smelterville, I went to kindergarden in Pinehurst where all my childhood friends attended. It was a private kindergarden run by Mrs. Swan. I thought she was wonderful. I was car pooled with two other Smelterville kids to kindergarten. One was LJ, a girl who lived behind us across the alley and MR a boy who lived across town. Kindergarten was so fun! I learned the alphabet and a lot of American tunes, such as the Star-Spangled Banner, America the Beautiful, America, Dixie, and some songs that are no longer politically correct. I also learned to cut, paste and follow directions. One day I didn't hear the whistle to call us for exercise, and I got hit across the back of my hand with a pointing stick. It was the first and last time I received corporal punishment for misbehavin'.

During our exercise time we played fairies and brownies (my favorite game), London Bridge, and a lot of circle games where we had to hold hands - yuck! Our exercise time started with a trip to the restrooms, then we marched around in a large hall, and finished with games and maybe songs. Maybe I shouldn't mention it, but one boy forgot to go to the restroom before marching and had an accident. Mrs. Swan told him it was his own fault for not doing as he was told. I was mortified for him, and never lost a chance to hit the restrooms.

I met a lot of new kids in Kindergarten. One thing that sticks out in my mind was that it was the first time I realized that not all the kids were the same. We all had coloring books or sheets, and I remembered noticing one day that one kid (there could have been more) had a color book with two sets of pictures on each page. One was already colored and the other wasn't. He was coloring a fire engine, but he wasn't coloring it like the other picture. The colored picture showed the fire engine in a bright red. He was scribbling all over the uncolored engine in black or purple. (He wasn't even coloring inside the lines!) I think I may have mentioned it aloud and was told to mind my own business. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with that kid. Later I reasoned that the kind of book and the coloring technique may have had something to do with the fact the kid was a year behind me in school.

I missed a lot of kindergarten. I know one extended absence was due to getting my tonsils out. I wasn't worried about the surgery beforehand, because I was told I would get to eat all the ice cream, popscicles and jello I wanted. I wasn't afraid of staying away from home, so it didn't seem too big of a deal. I probably had to spend the night there (and my mom probably did also). I was surprised that they put me in a crib. It was a large metal crib they used for older kids.

When they wisked me into surgery the next morning, I wasn't afraid. . .until they gave me the ether. The doctor and nurses were dressed in their white, white clothes and everything in the room seemed white. They draped a white sheet over me and a nurse put something over my mouth and nose and told me just to count backwards from 10. I counted 10, 9, 8, 7. . .then I screamed, took a big breath, and was gone.

When I woke up, my throat hurt soooo badly I didn't want to eat anything. I tried to suck on popscicles, but it hurt. I tried jello, but it hurt. I tried ice cream, and it tasted terrible. I was soooo mad! I could have all I wanted, but it hurt too much to eat anything. What kind of a deal was that anyway? Well, at least I'd get to go home after staying the night. So, I stayed the night, and I remember waking up to see my mom sleeping in the chair. (They didn't have soft chairs in hospitals then. The chairs were cheap aluminum or stainless steel ones. There may have had a cushion, but it probably wasn't too comfortable.) I was surprised she was there, but now I understand why.

The next day I was ready to go home. I didn't care about my sore throat, the popscicles and the jello. I just wanted to go home where everything was normal. The girl in the bed next to me gathered her stuff and left the hospital, but I was still there. Then I found out I had to stay another night. What? That's not fair! I was told I'd get to go home, but no one told me why I had to stay. But I found out.

Later in the evening, the white clad doctor and an all white nurse or two came in to my room with a tray. On the tray was a large pair of tongs and a bunch of cotton balls. (Now if you're squeamish - skip this next part.) I was wondering what they were going to do, when the doctor picked up a cotton ball with his tongs and said, "Open up". I opened up my mouth and he stuck that cotton ball so far back into my mouth, I gagged. Then he pulled it out, and it was bright red! He did the same thing a few more times, then he and his white entourage left the room. What was that all about? I wondered. I thought it was the weirdest thing. At least I got to go home the next day.

Years later, I found out the reason why I couldn't go home after the first night, was they couldn't stop the bleeding. I still don't know what the cotton ball exercise was all about, unless they cleaned my throat and put some kind of medicine in there to help stop the bleeding. All I know is that it took a long time before ice cream tasted good to me again.

The Robinson's House

We moved from the little house to the "Robinson's house," when I was about 2 1/2. It was a stucco house with a livingroom, kitchen/dining room, two bedrooms, a bath, and a hallway leading to the back door. There was also a large dirt driveway and a detached wooden garage where my dad used to work on his stock cars. We had a yard, unlike the little house, with a lawn that I could play on. (At the little house there was a dirt driveway, and area for parking cars where my dad worked on his stock cars, and where I played. Somewhere there is a photo of my friend PJ and I working on a stock car engine with popscicle sticks.)

The Robinson's house belonged to the Robinson family - who owned and rented this house to my parents. They lived on the corner of 6th street and Oregon and we lived next door. Another Robinson family lived in a brown house behind us (on Nevada) and were likely related to our landlords. They had kids near my age, and I played with them when I was old enough to leave the yard.

When I think of the Robinson's house, I think of the dark brown linoleum tile on the living room floor, the green couch, and the heavy black phone in the living room. We had a simple phone number I memorized during that time: Sunset 2-2922. You didn't have to dial the letters, just the numbers then.

There are lots of memories from the time we lived there. . .eating M&Ms, watching American Bandstand with the babysitter, dressing up in the outfit my Grandmother L. made for me, playing with the Robinson's dog "Trixi" and helping her eat her dog food. (Hard dog food in various shapes and colors - tasted like Rye biscuits do now).

My mom told me, that I used to threaten to eat dirt when I was told to do something I didn't want to do. "If you make me, I'll eat dirt! I'd threaten." I don't think it was much of a deterrent, because I can still remember what dirt tastes like. Or maybe I remember the taste of dirt from going to the Pinehurst Race Track on the weekends to watch my dad and his friends race. I remember the time my dad rolled his stockcar on the Southwestern turn. I wasn't old enough to be scared, but I was excited to see him climb out of the car. (There was a picture of my dad and his stock car on the wall of the Tall Pine last time I was in there.) I thought I would be a stock-car racer when I got older, but the track was closed. Now the bar that sat between the track and Division St is gone, as is its name from my memory - but it was still there in the 70s when I was old enough to dance to the tunes of Mary Juma's (Yuma?)Band. The entire area is covered with RVs and trees today.

We were living in the Robinson's house when my little sister was born. I only remember one incident involving her at the time. She was crawling behind the brown stove in the living room, and my mom scooped her up and spanked her. I started to cry. I didn't want my mom to spank the baby.

My dad has photos from that time, as well as some home movies of my 5th birthday party. I had remembered my "doll cake" from that birthday. The movies showed my guests and I sitting on the livingroom floor (on a sheet, I think) eating birthday cake. I wish I had access to that movie today, so I could list the guests. (I can think of some, but not all, and I wouldn't want to leave anyone out - just in case they ever happen upon my blog.)

I used to travel a lot when I was still a pre-schooler. I spent a week or two at a time with the Shaffer's in Cd'A and the same with the Boje's in Otis Orchards (now part of Spokane Valley, I think). At the Schaffer's we'd walk down to Sander's Beach on Cd'A lake to swim. At that time Sander's was a public beach and easily accessed by anyone who wanted to swim there. I loved the smell of the lake - a kind of rotting wood smell from all the logs - and I loved to play in the water.

At the Boje's, my favorite thing to do, was to play dress-up in the basement. The Boje's had 3 girls and they had a lot of dress up clothes. We used to also play with "movie star" paper dolls. One thing I didn't care much for was when we had to go to bed. Their mom used these strap things on the bed, so the covers wouldn't move. I couldn't get out of bed very easily to use the facilities or to get a drink. I remember squeezing myself up and out of the opening at the top of the covers to get a drink one time, only to be told - once I hit the hallway - to get back into bed.

An interesting side note to the Boje story, is that one of the daughter's closest to my age went into teaching. She currently teaches at Kellogg High School under her married name, and has raised her boys in the Silver Valley.

Earliest Memories

Standing in my crib (actual baby crib) seeing my relatives lying in bedding on the floor of the little house. A couple of my mom's sisters and their families had come to visit us. From that visit, I also remember playing "Star Light, Star Bright" and having cousin Mike pick me up and carry me cause I had been "caught."

I remember the national anthem at the close of the broadcast day on the little TV. . .(but that could have been a flash-back when I saw it years later). I remember "Gucky" (Lucky) the Caldwells' yellow lab who came over to play with me. I loved to throw his rubber ball for him, and watch him fetch it - until it was so saliva laden, that it soaked my hand.

The little house was located among some Ponderosa Pines a ways behind, and a little to the left of what is now the Pinehurst City Library. It consisted of 3 rooms: the L-shaped livingroom / kitchen, the bedroom, and the bath. It seemed so small years later when one of my cousins - Bob - and his wife came to Pinehurst and lived there for a while.

I also remember my brother, Steven, sitting in the high chair. I was waiting to see if he would leave some applesause for me to eat. I loved applesause. It took me a few years to understand this memory. My sister, R, was born when we lived in a different house, and for years I wondered who the baby was in the little house. I don't know who "jogged my memory," but I realized one day the baby had been Steven. Steven had been born with a birth defect and died suddenly at 10 months of age.

We never talked about him. In those days, while my parents (and me?) were at the funeral, some of my parent's friends went into the house and cleared out all reminders of Steven. (Except his baby book and a few pictures I found years later). At that time they believed it helped the parents get over the death of the child. My mom was so traumatized by his death, she lost a lot of weight. I think she just buried the memories of him, because losing him was so painful.

I have a snipet of memory from the funeral home. (And if it bothers you - skip this paragraph.) I don't know if it was the actual funeral, or if it was just a viewing. . .but my Dad was holding me and Steven was lying "asleep" in a high "bed." I remember saying, "Daddy, aren't we taking Baby Steven home with us?" I didn't understand what was going on, and I don't know if anyone tried to explain it to me. After all, I was only two.

We must have moved from the little house shortly after that. For years, my memories of the little house were always happy ones. I didn't realize that memories for my parents were sorrowful.