Immunizations: Then & Now

Pinehurst: Shots

Does anyone remember lining up for "Shots" - these were not gun shots, and not drink shots, but immunization shots. Everyone who was due for their shots were lined up and herded to the nurses office. There the nurse or two and a doctor would be waiting with huge hypodermic needles long enough to stick "clear through" a grade-schooler's arm. Some kids would start whimpering along the way, other's would wait until it was their turn, and pass out.

I noticed early on that a lot of kids dreaded those shots. I didn't. To me it was no big deal - a little pin prick, a band-aid, and it was over. I must have felt badly for the scared kids - especially the boys. They weren't supposed to cry or faint, but some of them did. I don't know when I started, but I would volunteer to go first. FIRST!

Some of the guys ahead of me would sigh "Relief" - because they didn't have to set the example for the rest of the class. It was the only time I was heroic. I'm not sure that anyone else saw it that way, but I figured if I went first, and said, "There's nothing to it." It would embolden the boys - after all, I was just a girl. It would also put me through first, so I wouldn't be there to witness the tears and fainting of any classmates who followed. (Especially the boys.)

Now-a-days, they don't give immunizations at school. I'm not sure why. Maybe they had to stop when they had to give up corporal punishment. Maybe it wasn't allowed, because it humiliated some of the kids and adults were no longer allowed to do that. Maybe the doctors got greedy, and decided it was best for them to charge an office visit and mega-bucks for each shot. The kids could come to them instead of them taking a day to hang out at the school for hours shooting hundreds of frightened, whiny kids.

Maybe they stopped because of the "free" immunizations clinics that sprung up all over in the '70s with the planned parenting freebies. Now, instead of a doctor doing "school" calls, he could let the kids come to him with their parents and all their siblings to get their booster shots. Now the parents could deal with their own kids passing out and crying. No more humiliation in front of their peers. No more nurses trying to drag the children close to the doctor. No more red eyes in the classroom. . .

Instead, the parents are humiliated. Have you ever gone to a county clinic for "free" shots? The worst one I ever went to was in California - San Bernadino County. I can't remember where it was located, but there must have been 30 people - mostly women and children, stuffed into a warm room about 10' x 15' all waiting for hours to see the doctor.

Now when mom's take their child to get an immunization, they have to drag along all the other babies and pre-schoolers in the family. This place was packed with crying, screeching, yelling kids. I thought I would lose my mind. I only had 2 with me; the under 1 yr old shot-ee and her 3 yr old sister. I checked us in, and looked for a seat. There were a few seats filled with people and stuff. There were bodies everywhere, and no place for an adult to sit down. Finally, someone got up to go to the back, and I was able to secure one chair for the 3 of us.

I am not fond of my kids playing on the floor of a public place with a hundred other snotty nosed children. We came to prevent disease, not to pick it up, but the odds were against us. I mean, there were kids drooling and sneezing and wiping their noses on anything available, then touching, touching, touching everything and everyone within reach. I tried to keep my two as close to me as possible in the over heated room. (There should have been air-conditioning, but either it wasn't working - or the combined bodies with all their BTUs stuffed into such a small space was over powering the system.) It was sticky and fragrant, but not in a good way.

We waited and we waited. More people came, but no one left. I think the doctor and nurses had all gone to a leisurely lunch at a posh restaurant with great air-conditioning and quiet ambiance. They were sipping on cool drinks and taking small bites of gourmet cuisine and chewing and chewing and chewing each bite. I went up to the little window and asked, "How much longer?"

"You'll just have to wait your turn."

Fortunately, the girls had held my seat. I sat down and let them wallow on my lap. It was hot. I was tired. No one was moving out. More people were coming in. Finally, one large family went back, and others quickly scooped up their territory. And we waited.

We were there about an hour and a half before we were called back for the 5 minute procedure. Why did it take sooooo long? I had a migraine, and I determined then and there - that I would NEVER, EVER, go to a public immunization clinic again.

I was so determined to avoid that place, that my youngest got behind in her immunizations. I even had a doctor chew me out when I went to catch her up before vacation. I don't know why some people chew you out - after you have decided to do the right thing. I mean, I was there, in his office for her to get her shots, and he's chewing me out! So, we got her boosters, and I changed doctors. From that time on - I avoided the clinics. . .until we moved to Idaho. At least the clinic here is spacious, and you can't get lost in the crowd. The wait is only about a half-hour, and they don't chew you out for coming. Regardless, most of the immunizations we have obtained have been in a private doctor's office. Sure, they charge a lot more than a clinic, but we are paying for the ambiance.

Pinehurst: Fifth Grade (1)

Old Lady Vitamin Pill

When I was in the fifth grade at Pinehurst school, our classes were held in the Annex on the South side of the school. The annex was the newest building at the school. It contained 4 classrooms, a girls' bathroom and boys' bathroom. The fifth grade consisted of 3 classes, and the fourth room was used by the Jr. High.

My fifth grade teacher was Mrs. Allman - who was referred to by the older kids as "Old Lady Vitamin Pill." Apparently a few years prior to my stint in grade 5, OLVP would give each of her students a "One-A-Day" vitamin pill each morning. Now this was in the days long before school offered breakfast to students from low-income families, and I imagine she was just doing her part to help the students to succeed in school. However, as an adult with grown children, it is "chilling" to think that a teacher, no matter what her intentions, could give each student a pill before class every day. Added to the fact that in those days, the schools employed full-time nurses who were able to administer drugs legally, the thought of a single teacher taking on the dispension of pills to kids is rather "bizarre."

However, by the time I was admitted to her class, the practice had stopped. There had been a law passed that made it illegal for anyone, including the nurse to dispense as much as an aspirin without parental permission. This was a great move, as parents who have abandoned the rearing of children to the state, did not forsake the responsibility to care for their children's health. (But I pontificate.)

Mrs. Allman was not an impressive teacher. She was old, very thin, pale, and dyed her stringy hair a dark brown. Her clothes were nondescript dresses of a matronly style and color. She seemed nice, and probably liked me, as most of my teachers did, but I don't remember anything distinctive about the class - except for learning the state capitals and the first paragraph of the Gettysburg address.


"Dizzy Spells"

Perhaps it was because I was changing. My body was growing in new ways, and I was beginning to notice boys more. Not just one or two, but many nice looking young bucks. One sat behind me most of the year, who was quite nice looking, and may have liked the way I looked a bit also.

I had some screwy ideas about boys and how they thought about girls and the whole notion of sex - that I prefer not to mention here. Suffice to say, a friend of mine and I had concocted a whole explanation from bits and pieces we had heard and seen. It would be laughable, except that neither of us ever learned the truth about our "theory" until years later when other bits and pieces we learned contradicted what we first believed. Sad that our mothers lived in a time where what is natural had been deemed nasty - and they were never comfortable to speak of things to come.

However, there is another explanation for why I may not remember much of my fifth grade year: the "dizzy spells" as I called it. I started having strange sensations of acute self-awareness coupled with impending doom. In the course of the ordinary, I would suddenly feel disembodied, as though I was an observer as well as a participant in life. I could disassociate myself from me, and yet feel trapped in time and place with a heightened sense of needing to escape.

It was as if my mind belonged to a higher order of being, and didn't want to be trapped in a 10 yr. old body locked in that classroom at that time, studying insipid books. I became claustrophobic and terrified. I had to get out of there and fast! The only way I could cope was to put my head down. On more than one occasion, I would get down on my hands and knees, because I felt like I was going to pass out or die on the spot. Usually, I would end up going home, unless my Mom was working - which was most of the time, then I would be taken to the nurses office to lie down.

As soon as the strange feelings left, I felt stupid. My mom thought I was faking it. She took me to the doctor who said there was nothing physically wrong with me. (Physically there wasn't. . .but physiologically there was - I was having panic attacks.)

In those days, doctors didn't know about panic attacks. They might have suspected "mental illness" - but in all other ways, I was a normal kid. I didn't act out, didn't display anti-social behavior, in fact, I was a model child who tried to please my parents and teachers. There was no logical explanation at that time for my behavior. My mom thought it was a ruse and I thought I was dying.

Fortunately, I had a lot of ear infections that year also, and one of the doctors said I had some kind of allergy, as he found boils in my ears. As a result, he also said that it could be the cause of the "dizzy spells." This alleviated my mother's accusations that I was "faking it" and she apologized for not believing me. It calmed my fears, as I no longer believed that what was happening to me was fatal.

Regardless, all of this uproar, was a huge distraction my entire fifth grade year. No wonder I don't remember much about the classroom than the "dizzy spells."

Where were you? (1)

The Day John F Kennedy was shot.

I remember the day JFK was shot. (Nov 1963). I had just gotten out of school and was waiting for my mom or someone to pick me up. I came out of the Pinehurst school by way of the office doors - which was weird, since I was in the old building for classes. Maybe we had PE in the gym before school let out. . .(not sure). A friend of ours, D. (Caldwell) Phillips came by to pick me up. As she walked toward me, she said the President had been shot. I was only 10, so I didn't really understand the magnitude of what had happened. I thought, "Why would anyone want to shoot the President?" I didn't realize it was a mortal wound.

When we got to my house, I think the TV was already on, and my mom was "glued" to the set. For the next few days, that's all that was on television: The President's motorcade, the shots, the President slumping over, First Lady Jacqueline, leaning over the President. News of the President's death, swearing in of Johnson, the first family in black, Little John saluting the casket as the funeral procession went by. It was sad, but I think it was more sad for my mom. She was older, and understood the sorrow of the President's death on his family. I remember the images, but I don't remember the pain.

The Lunar Landing

I was at the Carver's house sitting on the living room floor watching Neil Armstrong step onto the lunar surface. I was glad I shared that moment with my friends. It would not have had the same impact if I had watched it at home. The moment was exciting. We had been anticipating such an event since our early grade school years, when we read books like: Someday, You Will Go to the Moon. We knew this day was history in the making, and unlike a national tragedy, this was national triumph. We talked about what exciting days we were living in, and the posibility of space travel in our future. It was difficult to imagine that the moon we saw in the sky, was actually where our astronauts had travelled and had now set foot. "This is one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." - Neil Armstrong

Myrtle Beach stirs memories. . .

Gotta check out MyrtleBeachWhale's post on "masks" today at:

http://myrtlebeachramblings.blogspot.com/

Here's the comment I left after reading the post:

Great post! I remember going to Mrs. Watts house in Smelterville, but didn't remember the performances!

Did most of my "trick-r-treatin'" in Pinehurst. And - don't beat me up - we used PILLOW CASES! Our take was that they were sturdy enough to last the evening and we didn't have to buy anything to carry our candy in. (Maybe my mom rationalized that since she bought and gave out FULL-SIZED candy bars - and we usually got around 300 trick-r-treaters - that her kids should make "a haul."

You brought back great memories. . .even of the cheap "masks" available at the time. I had forgotten about the elasitic string held by a staple on each end. What a joke.

Also loved Rob's post (comment) within your post about the playground equipment. I remember those "hot" slides - if your legs were bare - as in short pants or DRESSES - (Arg!) -you'd STICK to the slide and burn your skin off. . . Thanks for the email about your post. It was great!

Now for my add- on: I remember one time my sister tried to go down the slide on the 2nd - grade playground at Pinehurst school. It was summertime, and we had gone there to play. She had on shorts, and when she started down the slide, her legs stuck to the surface. They were burning and she was upset. I'm not sure if someone came to her rescue, if she tried to "scoot" down, but she was MAD! (And you never wanted to see my sister MAD!)

I do remember several people trying to "scoot" down the slide, by lifting their knees and easing their backside toward their feet. There was a sort of "screech - screech - screech" sound as they alternately stuck and scooted all the way down. You never wanted to be the first person on the slide when it was in the sun. You learned that the slides were much better in the shade of the afternoon - or after 30 or so kids had just gone down, and the surface was cooled to body temperature!

I'll need to blog about Halloween later.

Pinehurst: Snippets of '64

Piano Lessons

I took piano lessons for two years, but didn't get very far. In fourth grade I took lessons from a High School guy who lived down the street. I didn't like taking lessons from him. In fifth grade, I took lessons from a lady who lived on 3rd street across from the Pinehurst school annex. I liked her a lot better, but since I played by ear, I had trouble "counting" the beat. When it came to both hands doing different things at the same time, I dropped out.

My parents either bought a piano from, or had been given a piano by Schaffer's. It was a beautiful, dark carved wood upright. Some of the keys were missing their ivory, but otherwise it was in good shape. I was so sad to see it go, when I quit my lessons.

Barbie clothes

Early in '64, when I had my 10th birthday, Dorothy Caldwell had Shirley Edwards sew some Barbie outfits for my doll. There were probably 10 outfits, and one was my very favoite. It was a green satin circle skirt with white fur trim, and a top out of the same material. (Think "White Christmas" outfit - but dark green instead of red, and satin rather than velvet.) My Barbie was so beautiful in it. (And since she was my alter-ego, it made me feel good when she wore it.)

Beatle Songs

The Beatles came on the scene in 1963, and by '64 they were the hottest group around. I used to listen to their songs on the radio and at friends' homes. I memorized a ton of them. I was in love with Paul McCartney, but I knew he was too old for me. (I also figured we would never meet, so I'd have to wait until I grew up to marry someone who was as good looking and talented.)

Bowling Tournament Weekends with C. Clemens

My parents were bowling on a Mixed League - mixed meaning men & women, not diverse in the modern sense. They bowled with T & D Clemens and a couple of other people. One time they went on a tournament to Cheney, and my sister and I went. I think C. Clemens may have been there also. The biggest thing I remember about the trip was the "teen" magazine I read that gave me all the info on the Beatles and introduced me to the term "Beatlemania. I determined I was definitely a Beatlemaniac - but I wouldn't faint if I saw them in concert. (That was just too dumb).

The next time my parents went on a tournament with the Clemens' I got to stay with C. Clemens at her home with her and her brother. (He was older, and didn't bug us.) We listened and danced to all the Beatle songs she had on 45 rpms (Forty-five revolutions per minute records) for hours.

Since she was only two years older than I, we got along famously! We were able to eat what we wanted, too. I had asked my parents for a package of chocolate stars, because I looooved chocolate. (Still do.) Anyway, I started eating the stars and they tasted so good, I ate the entire bag. Next thing I knew, I felt really sick. Not exactly nauseous, but just full and yucky feeling. I thought, I'll never eat chocolate again. (That only lasted a day.)

I think we ate macaroni and cheese with hot dogs for dinner. Can't remember much else about that day. I do remember that C.C. introduced me to cinnamon toast. I liked it so much, I made it for snacks a lot of the time at home. (I even blamed my weight gain on the cinnamon toast with butter, but actually, I was growing.)

Pinehurst again, summertime (1)

During May of my third grade year, my parents bought a house in Pinehurst. It was on the main street, about a block from the school, and was painted "Battleship Grey." I was excited because most of my life-long friends lived in Pinehurst (or the Bauman Addition across the bridge toward Kingston), and attended the Pinehurst School. Originally my parents had considered buying a lot behind the Johnson's in Bauman Addition, and wanted to build a split level home. Apparently this house was more in their price range, so they bought it. I was a bit disappointed that we weren't going to live as close to the Johnson's, but at least I'd be in school with PJohnson.

In addition to being close to the school, we lived close to everything in Pinehurst. The creek was just down the street a few blocks to the west, and the stores were a few blocks to the east. I could walk or ride my bike to the Caldwells, who lived next to the Post Office, or to the Carver's who lived on 3rd St. across from the school, about a block and a half away.

I spend a lot of my summers playing or hanging out at the school yard up through my eighth grade year. It was the hub of socialization for me and a lot of Pinehurst kids. We rode our bikes all over the school grounds and on the breezeway. We sat on the swings, the merry-go-round, the slides, and the curbs on the breezeway talking and sharing our lives.

Of course I related to you the story about KV and her cousin DB straightening me out on who KV liked and who liked her, lest I try to compete for the same guy. So silly now, that we would be so serious about boys when we were only 9 yrs. old! I really didn't care what she said. I knew that he and I were friends first, and that wouldn't change no matter who came and went.

I looked forward to entering the fourth grade, and was hoping that I would get Mrs. Caldwell for my teacher. PJ got her, but I didn't. I think it was because she was like a grandmother to me, and it would have put each of us in an awkward situation. I didn't have either P Johnson or G Carver in my class as I had hoped, but I became good friends with D Hokanson - who's mother was my second grade teacher at Silver King.

Smelterville: Third Grade (1)

I really thought I was mature by the time I was in 3rd grade. (After all, I thought 6th graders were practically adults, because of their size.) I was in Mrs. Watts class. I think it was the only 3rd grade class at Silver King that year. Several things happened that year to make me learn that life isn't all it seems to be.

Girls are Rivals

It was the year I learned that other girls could become rivals for the attention of boys. KV was in my class again that year, at least in the first part of the year. She and I were rivals for the attention of one Pat B. He liked her best, until she moved, and then I became #1 for his attention. (Needless to say, I found out later she had moved to Pinehurst, and had discovered my favorite guy there! When I moved there in the spring, she and her cousin DB stopped me at the Pinehurst School breezeway and said, "I hope you don't mind but ____, who used to like you, likes me now." I was dumbfounded. How could she do this to me?)

Adults can lie

In third grade, Mrs. Watts told us Santa Claus was not real. I was upset, but never let on. I matter of factly informed my mother that I now knew the truth. She didn't ask if I was upset or anything, she just asked that I didn't spoil things for my sister by relaying the truth. (I thought, "I can't believe my parents lied to me! If Santa isn't real, maybe God isn't real either). The knowledge left me with a hole in my heart.

Life isn't fair

Then there was the Christmas Angel fiasco. Mrs. Watts pulled me aside one day and asked if I would like to do something for her. She took me into an empty room where she had a overhead projector pointed to a large piece of butcher paper on the wall. I was awestruck when she put a small picture of an angel on the screen and it enlarged the image on the wall. I had never seen anything like it. And I have always wanted an overhead projector since (. .humm. . .something to put on my wish list). Anyway, I started tracing the angel which would become a classroom decoration. At some point in time, she must have asked another girl to help me, but the girl didn't do much at all. I remembered doing the bulk of the tracing and all of the coloring. I was so proud of that angel.

Other students also worked on overhead projects for classroom decorations. They all worked in pairs. At the end of the Christmas season, we had to "draw lots" for who would get the decorations. I was crushed when Mrs. Watts asked me if we could give my angel to this other girl. I said, "Ok," because I was compliant, but I wanted to say "I did all the work."

Looking back now, I think the other girl came from a poor family, and wasn't probably getting much for Christmas that year. It's a concept that adults understand, but not little girls. For many years after that, I was upset about the Christmas Angel.

Background Vocalist

Third grade was the year I found out I could sing. (It didn't sink in for a while). During the Christmas season another girl and I were given a background vocal for "Silver Bells." In the chorus, while everyone else held the note on "Bells," we did an "Ah, ah. Ah, ah. Ah, ah. Ah, ah. . ." (Okay, it loses something in the writing). But it was a "special" part, and made me feel almost as good as when I was Mrs. Santa in the first grade play.