Vacations (4): Summer of '66

For some reason the trip that sticks out most in my mind, was the summer of '66. I think we left shortly after Dad came home from work and drove all night. The next morning we were able to pick up one of the gigantic rock stations in Salt Lake City. We listened to the top forty hits, and as the sun came up over the Wasatch range, the song "Red Rubber Ball" by The Cyrkle was playing (lyrics here). It became one of my favorite songs of the summer.

Of course, when you listen to a top 40 station, they play the same songs over and over again. I memorized "Red Rubber Ball" as well as "Paperback Writer" by The Beatles. Now "Paperback Writer" was one of those songs that was difficult to learn the lyrics to because it moved fast except on the chorus. Dad memorized the song, also. He said, "What are they singing? Pay forThat Rifle?"

I told him it was "Paperback Writer," but he began to sing the chorus "Pay for That Rifle, Pay for That Rifle, Pay for That Rifle." (I never really liked that song, anyway. . .) "Paperback Writer" - lyrics here. Sometimes I still tease him about that.

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.