September 1, 1955 was Labor Day. The following day was my first day of school of any kind and I was apprehensive. I had seldom been around other children, had no friends, no anchor to anything, walked with my head pointed straight down, and was very uncomfortable when around anyone other than my mother’s parents.
Despite those discomforts, on September 2, 1955, I stepped aboard a shiny new yellow school bus, which was crowded with kids of all ages who were complete strangers to me. Eventually, that bus arrived at brand-new Yates Elementary School in Lexington, KY. When the bus stopped the other kids burst from their seats and out the open side door. The driver noticed me, still sitting in my seat, and notified a nice woman, who led me from the bus to a (then) modern classroom.
That was my first introduction to a world, which was completely foreign to me. And at that moment I had developed no defenses or methods of living there.
Luckily, two events soon happened, which helped me learn to cope. Firstly, I walked headfirst into a car, which I didn’t see until I was lying on the ground, wondering what had just happened. I quickly realized I had always walked with my head down, not looking up. Never again did I do that. Secondly, my first grade teacher quickly understood that I was severely near-sighted and contacted my mother, so I soon walked out of an optometrist’s office, becoming increasingly amazed and dismayed by the appearance of the actual world.
Six months later, our family had moved to another town with an entirely different population and I had begun the slow process of learning to make and value friends.
The first of those real friends was Charlie Feather, who is still my friend. I clearly remember a demonic entity, who called herself “Miss Smith”, trying to beat Charlie to actual death in her classroom full of fourth grade students. He had done nothing to deserve punishment and if I had recovered from the insanity-driven punch she had given me, for misspelling “library”, I might have had the courage to run to his defense.
Charlie survived that deranged woman and grew to be a fine man, loved by all who knew/know him.
My second real friend was Thomas Glasscock. I knew/know him as Tommy. Among other things, we visited a cemetery during one Halloween night and that’s when I became acquainted with his fearless audacity.
After my family had again moved from that little city to two different towns in succession, I was sitting on my new bed, thinking about how totally dark the night sky had probably gotten when I heard “tic”, “tac”, “tic”, “tic”, “WHAP” on my bedroom window. “My word!”, I probably thought. So, I arose from my bed, pulled the curtains aside, and immediately espied Tommy Glasscock, standing in our backyard.
I asked him, “How the heck did you find our house, two towns removed, and then evaluate the windows of the house’s three bedrooms and find mine?” “I bought a map”, he replied. At any rate, everyone was most happy to see him and glad-handing erupted. After we all settled down and Tommy and I were sitting on my bed, whispering about some now-forgotten girl, I heard my mother calling his. “Did you loose somebody?”, she asked.
My memory of the event becomes somewhat vague after that. There are drifting bits related to skipping school and a 100 mph drive to a high school golf tournament. About all I remember of that journey is passing a huge red farm tractor on a one-lane bridge…or something like that. Good times, as “they” say.
Thomas overcame his temporary situation and he also became a wonderful family man, loved by all.
I thank our Lord JESUS for blessing me with two such friends during the past 70 years.
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