Trekking Back to Texas

We moved to Wichita Falls, Texas. How we landed there is an absolute mystery to me. In Wichita Falls, I began to see there were different types of homes, neighbors and family functions. A whole other world, one where people had lived in one house from the day they were born and used china that matched. We had lived in post housing for the previous six years, and most families had been similar to ours.

I started 7th grade at Reagan Junior High School. I doubt I lasted a week before I declared that under no circumstances would I return to that hell hole. My total system was in shock. I was a baby and had been thrown in with wolves. The school was primarily populated with Mexican children and their culture was alien to me. The school searched them daily for cigarettes, lighters, firecrackers, knives or any weapons. My sensibilities went into overload. Mother learned from a neighbor that although Reagan was closer to our house, we lived in the Zundelowitz Junior High School district.

Zundy was the happiest time of my school years. I had home room, a different teacher for every subject, and people who actually put a value on me. I joined the Future Teachers Club, went to ball games and had my own circle of friends. In English class, I was required to submit an essay. Later in the year, the school presented me with a bound copy of my essay which had been submitted to a national contest. Along with other students, nationally, I had won the essay competition. Again, I am surprised. Why in the hell do I not know when I am in competition. I still have that  little book.

During the 1950s, the Ducktail was a haircut style, popular initially for males. The actual name was the Duck’s Ass, but propriety called for the name Ducktail to be used in mixed company. The Ducktail hair style contributed to the term “greasers.” To accomplish this look, lots of grease was required to hold the hair in place. Still the era of hair creams, it only took a little extra cream to hold it in place. “A little dab will do ya!” Guys combed their hair through out the day with greasy combs. By 1957, it was a fad with girls, and I got a stylish hair cut for the first time.

Mother explained “the curse” to me. I was at least not surprised at something for once, but then my original explanation had been Toni. This was the year, Mother let me paint my room black. I got a used, Hi-Fi record player, and my musical taste expanded to Johnny Mathis and Peggy Lee. I felt Elvis, Ricky Nelson and Bobby Darren required something I wasn’t willing to participate in – screaming when they walked on stage.

Billy attended Wayland Baptist College in Plainview, Texas which is outside of Lubbock. She was in school on a basketball scholarship. Lee had moved to Lubbock, I am sure that this is part of how she got there. She dyed her hair red and had a statuesque body. Wearing a dress, she had a modicum of attractiveness. She was dating Tom Bowman, a married, older gentleman who bought her a yellow, MG A Roadster automobile.

She came to Wichita Falls frequently because I did most of her classwork for her to retain her scholarship. During her senior year in high school, I did almost all of her homework. Having a room alone for the first time, I was more than willing to do anything to keep her from moving home.

For the first time I can recall, Mother had a close, female friend with whom she visited and gossiped. Mom had never needed a girlfriend, but I think this one had a tainted past. Mother could instruct her in the wiles of a Southern lady. Her friend had been divorced and had a daughter a year young than I.

When I was invited to a prom, Mother borrowed a white, strapless formal with a full, ballerina-length skirt from her friend’s daughter. On the big night my date arrived to pick me up. When we got into the car, he introduced me to the couple we were double dating with. Much to my surprise, the beautiful brunette in the back seat had on an identical dress in pink. Initially taken back, I decided that I would just tell everyone I was her little sister. She went on to win the Miss Wichita Falls competition.

Needing a musical outlet, Mother decided we were religious again. The First Baptist Church had numerous, youth activities, and I spent most of my free time there. As an infant I had been christened Methodist. It was determined I now required a baptism. I was not included in any of the decision process. I felt it hypocritical to be arbitrarily baptized, and I was not pleased. During the baptism, there was too much chlorine in the water. The preacher failed to keep my nose closed. Inhaling water, I surfaced struggling and sputtering. I surmised he was trying to drown me for being a hypocrite. I was offended that the Baptist church did not deem me acceptable unless they performed the ceremony. I believe the natural order of things is to have an epiphany and then be baptized. I was baptized, and then I had an epiphany.

I was taught from the Old Testament about hell, fire, brimstone and retribution. It was a vengeful God who had sent Moses wandering the desert for 40 years, turned people into a pillar of salt, created a rain for 40 days and 40 nights, set Noah, his family and animals adrift, created plagues and required the slaughter of a first born. The New Testament’s lesson was that unless one completely accepted all its tenets, you absolutely would not go to heaven.

I needed explanations for Mohammad, Buddha, Hindus, any group declaring theirs was the way and the light and even an explanation for the big bang theory. I felt there was a supreme being. I believed angels or spiritual guides were possible. I favored reincarnation for it would certainly be an impossible and daunting task to obtain a higher level in one life time. I felt both heaven and hell existed on earth. With my usual irreverent sense of humor, my explanation is that when one dies the soul goes to a holding garage in Buffalo until it is time to return and have another stab at getting it right. I had just been baptized as an agnostic. I learned later that my personal hero, Einstein, was an agnostic.

During the summer, I went to church camp. Like all kids, we had a great time, bunking in cabins and running people’s underwear up the flag pole. We attended the services in an open, wooden tabernacle with barely a roof and no sides. I sat pretty far back, and the sermon was on Noah and the Ark. As the sermon began the skies darkened, the thunder rumbled, the air temperature dropped and the rain began. With this direct sign from God, the children streamed in troves down to the front altar to confess their need to be redeemed. Perhaps 50 kids were saved. This included a boy named Mike, whose father was a preacher. Mike hide his liquor bottle in our bushes most of the year. I was some what surprised at this mass reaction from the crowd.

I strongly felt that the clever, young evangelist had checked the weather forecast prior to the sermon. He used it to his advantage in his sermon. Lord, I was a complicated child and so tired of surprises. When camp was over, Mike promptly returned to hiding his liquor bottle in our bushes. Religion became a non-issue, again until we moved to Houston.

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Published in: on June 15, 2010 at 2:50 pm  Leave a Comment  
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