Hometown page 2

The summer of my fifth year we moved to Templeton, population 2500 people, 1250 dogs of various breeds, 2000 cats of all colors, 2 rabbits – tamed, and 10 horses.  We had arrived in the big city!  I loved it there for one simple reason; our house was next to the public library.  Books. Glorious books.  They were everywhere.  Momma allowed me to go anytime I wanted and to stay as long as I wished. I could not imagine anything better than this.

But an end to all good things must happen and so did this chapter in my life.  Daddy had been working at the Chevy dealership’s garage repairing cars and trucks.  After one year of being told when to work and how to work he decided that he could do better on his own and be much happier.  He rented a Quonset hut building in a small town near by to open his own repair shop.  He and Momma purchased a house one block away.  It was in this house I was to finish my growing up within my family circle.  It would have been a painful move for me leaving all of “my” library books behind if Momma hadn’t introduced me to “the Library card.”  I could have kissed the feet of the genius who though up that idea.  I didn’t have to leave my books behind and better yet I did not have to go to plan A. 

Plan A was thought up the moment I knew my parents were moving.  Plan A, the result of many excursions to forbidden areas of the library, was so simple.  Step one was to set up a “nest” under the stairs that lead up to the grown up section of the library with all of my clothes and toys.  Step two was to sneak into the break room to “borrow” the librarian’s lunches each day.  I knew I could do it.  Of course, I would miss Mom and Dad but they had Dusty and would be to busy moving to miss me.  It was a perfect plan.

The library card saved me from my budding life of crime.  I was free to move to Brooks.  Free to read forever.   Free to live with Momma and Daddy, and to my surprise free to run all over town.  Brooks was so small.  The population of 100 people and the surrounding farms supported two grocery stores, a post office, a bank, a two-room school, and Daddy’s garage.  This was heaven on earth to me – books, school, and freedom to roam. I had no idea that my growing years would be filled with queens, entertainers, adventure and excessive blessings.  Not to mention my brief encounter with illegal drugs.  Little did I know or care that my life there would lay the foundation of my future of travel, children, status, friends, love and blessings beyond anything I could ever have dreamed.

Hometown page 1

You asked for more.  Here it is.  I will be putting it up in pages -- one page per day (or so).  It will be like the old Saturday movies, where you get the action, but you know more will be there next Saturday.  I hope you enjoy it.  Please let me know what you think or if you have ideas on how to improve it.  Thank you.

Page 1

Momma was working for Dr Cooper, the only doctor in town, so she could board in town and attend high school.  World War II was just over and Daddy with his eyes so dark you couldn’t see the black center and black wavy hair carefully combed back and held in place by Brylcreem had just arrived back in Villisca from his overseas duty.  It was only a matter of time before they met since the whole business section of town bordered on the four sides of the town park.  The population was near its all time high of 900 people all living in white washed houses spreading out from the town center.  Momma married Daddy at the tender age of 17, although she would point out rather quickly that she turned 18 four days later.  About a year and a half later when she became pregnant with me, their first child, Dad and Mom moved to a house on the far corner of Momma’s father’s farm.  Daddy farmed with Grandpa for the next six years.  I was born shortly after they moved.  With my three aunts still living at home with Grandpa and Grandma you can imagine the loving care I received.

The summer of my fourth year I was enrolled in the local country school.  I would be attending kindergarten.  There really wasn’t a kindergarten program in country schools then, but the teacher adored me and I am sure that Momma wanted some quiet time so I started my education at the ripe old age of four.  It was a one-room red schoolhouse complete with a bell on the roof that called us to come in from recess.  The teacher taught all of the grades, Kindergarten through eighth each day.  I was the only one in my class.  There were no first graders and only two-second graders.  I don’t remember how many of the other classes had students in them, but the school only had fourteen kids.  Penmanship was taught on the black board to the older class.   I watched and learned to write with them.  It wasn’t until later after we moved that I was taught how to print.  I also learned to multiply and divide at the same time I was learning to add and subtract because they were all taught on the blackboard.  

The school held an annual Christmas program for the whole community.  The parents and grandparents were seated in the student’s desk or crowed into whatever space was available to dutifully watch other people’s children recite poems or read sections of the Bible or a Christmas story waiting for their own precious child to do his part of the program.  After each student was finished there would be a proud parent who would start the clapping and be the last one to finish clapping.  Have you noticed that parents think that their child is the most talented one on earth?  Some are right and others sadly are wrong, but this does not stop them from being proud of their child. 

Finally the time for the last performance of the program had arrived.  It was my turn on the stage.  My adoring teacher, Miss Dory, stood tall and with her soft pleasing voice announced to the gathering that the next performance would be a piano solo by Victoria Penry.  My parents in unison started to turn white.  You see they were the only people in the room who knew that I had never taken a piano lesson in my short short life.  But there I was seated at the piano playing away like it was Carnegie Hall.  After a few minutes, Miss Dory started to thank me for my lovely piece.  I played on.  Again the ever soft-spoken Miss Dory started to thank me for my lovely piece.  I played on.  For the first time ever Miss Dory raised her voice to me and thanked me for my piece as she gently pulled me off the piano bench.  I took the hint.  Bowed and happily marched down to sit with my parents, who by this time were desperately looking for a hole in the floor to crawl into while praying as hard as they could for the end times to come this minute.  It was left to poor long suffering Miss Dory to start the clapping for my part in the program.  It was just the beginning of my love of being in front of people.  It is also quite possible that it was the reason that my parent moved to a town in the next county that summer.  They are both gone now so I shall never know for sure.   I do wonder though.