I took guitar lessons in the 4th grade. The Macedon Elementary music teacher (I have long forgotten her name) offered them for something like $3 per student per half hour. There were a bunch of kids who attended these group lessons after school in the basement of a church across the street. I don’t precisely recall how I ended up with a guitar – I assume my parents purchased one for me. I remember my dad had one, though he didn’t play, and I fiddled with it often enough so it seems he invested in one for me plus lessons.
Apart from occasional seasons of not having a guitar, I kept playing and singing and still do to this day. Plus, I can still remember some of the songs I learned in those lessons decades ago. I never learned how to read music, which is something I regret. Nevertheless, it gives me great pleasure to play and I’m glad I learned.
Some of the songs we were taught were doggone religious. I do not know what prompted the guitar teacher to pick those songs, but I remember Rita & I (Rita learned how to play, as well, though I do not recall who taught her; could have been me, I dunno) singing songs that described Christ's coming to earth, living, dying, and resurrecting. Stuff I just sang back then but gave no specific thought to. I like to think that a seed was planted that would not bear fruit, metaphorically speaking, until many years later when I came to understand the significance of the lyrics and believed the message.
Macedon Digs
Moving from relative isolation of the rural countryside to Macedon was an improvement in social potential as friends were now down the street instead of light years away. Closest to me was Scott & Larry (brothers). Up the road and a hill from them was Bob and his little brother Reggie. Recently at a class reunion Bob confessed that he worshipped my sister Rita back then. Rita was (and still is) a few years older, so it wouldn’t have worked out. A fair distance past Bob (maybe a half mile) was Bill. In the other direction was Dave, who was closer to Dennis’s age than the rest of us. He had 2 sisters with whom I interacted very little. Way past him was Tom and Dave Heckman that we occasionally saw – they were more Dennis’s age, anyway. Up the road from us in another direction was John who was older as well and we interacted with rarely. He had a dog named “Polack”, though I do not know if the dog was actually Polish. In summary, friends were within walking distance, or at least easy bicycle distance.
I liked the house we moved into. The front door was pretty much useless, as there was a short front yard and some concrete steps down to a fast road (55 MPH speed limit). The only good use of those steps was for waiting for the bus on school mornings. The gravel driveway in the back was quite wide and came up to the garage. There was a branch of the driveway that continued to the house next door where an old lady lived by herself – Mrs. Allard, if my memory serves me. On the other side of the driveway was the woods, which was good for hiking and adventures. There was a decent sized lawn and a couple of apple trees. Some evenings we would throw apples up in the air and bats would dive bomb after them. On one side of the house was what we called the “back yard” which was really a side yard. On the other side of the house was a fence and on the other side of that the landlord kept a working swimming pool, as he owned a pool business. He told us we can use it as long as we took care of it, and we certainly did on both counts. We would never have been able to afford a swimming pool so it was an unexpected luxury, particular for us kids in the summer. It certainly made me popular amongst the neighborhood kids. Through the back door and up a few steps was a utility room where the washer and dryer were kept. Through another door you walked into the kitchen, or turned right to go into a full bath. Which now seems to be a strange place to have a bathroom with tub, but it all seemed natural to a kid. The light switch to said bathroom was outside the bathroom door. If someone were using the bathroom at night you could flip the light switch off and get screamed at.
The kitchen was L shaped and had an area for eating. The room off the kitchen was officially a dining room. After a few years it became the TV room. After that was the living room. Off that was my parent’s bedroom which, for a number of years, doubled as the TV room. I liked lying on the bed and watching TV – it was quite comfortable. Or, you could climb the stairs to the bedrooms – Dennis & I shared one and Rita had the other. There was a crawl space off to the side which served as an attic for storing shit. The basement was off the kitchen, but I rarely ventured down there because it was old, musty, cobwebby, and scary.
I have great memories of the place as well as doggone lousy ones. I grew up a lot while living there for 5-ish years.
I liked the house we moved into. The front door was pretty much useless, as there was a short front yard and some concrete steps down to a fast road (55 MPH speed limit). The only good use of those steps was for waiting for the bus on school mornings. The gravel driveway in the back was quite wide and came up to the garage. There was a branch of the driveway that continued to the house next door where an old lady lived by herself – Mrs. Allard, if my memory serves me. On the other side of the driveway was the woods, which was good for hiking and adventures. There was a decent sized lawn and a couple of apple trees. Some evenings we would throw apples up in the air and bats would dive bomb after them. On one side of the house was what we called the “back yard” which was really a side yard. On the other side of the house was a fence and on the other side of that the landlord kept a working swimming pool, as he owned a pool business. He told us we can use it as long as we took care of it, and we certainly did on both counts. We would never have been able to afford a swimming pool so it was an unexpected luxury, particular for us kids in the summer. It certainly made me popular amongst the neighborhood kids. Through the back door and up a few steps was a utility room where the washer and dryer were kept. Through another door you walked into the kitchen, or turned right to go into a full bath. Which now seems to be a strange place to have a bathroom with tub, but it all seemed natural to a kid. The light switch to said bathroom was outside the bathroom door. If someone were using the bathroom at night you could flip the light switch off and get screamed at.
The kitchen was L shaped and had an area for eating. The room off the kitchen was officially a dining room. After a few years it became the TV room. After that was the living room. Off that was my parent’s bedroom which, for a number of years, doubled as the TV room. I liked lying on the bed and watching TV – it was quite comfortable. Or, you could climb the stairs to the bedrooms – Dennis & I shared one and Rita had the other. There was a crawl space off to the side which served as an attic for storing shit. The basement was off the kitchen, but I rarely ventured down there because it was old, musty, cobwebby, and scary.
I have great memories of the place as well as doggone lousy ones. I grew up a lot while living there for 5-ish years.
To Macedon
We moved to Macedon sometime in the latter part my 3rd grade. I didn’t like it, as it meant switching schools to Macedon Elementary and being “the new kid” which is always a challenge for an introvert.
My last day in Palmyra Elementary was a bust – I stayed home from school due to the “itches” - severe itching all over my body. Rita got it, too. We suspected the laundry soap, but never nailed down the cause. The kids in the class each made a good-bye card, which was really nice and very encouraging. I specifically recall the one from Linda Higbee who had recently moved from Macedon to Palmyra and ended up in my class. She told me that when I attend Macedon Elem that I might get Mrs. Wilkinson as a teacher. She meant to tell me that Mrs. Wilkinson was strict, but wrote it “she’s stict”. I did indeed end up in Mrs. Wilkinson’s class and found out she was really quite nice after all and not stuck to anything.
My first day in Mrs. Wilkinson’s class was dreadful (it wasn’t the class, teacher, or kids, it was me). A couple of highlights: I meet a kid named Greg (can’t remember his last name) who had recently come back from a trip to Florida and was quite tan. Never having been anywhere south of the Mason-Dixon line, I thought it was quite impressive and exotic - Florida seemed like another world far away. Another was Martha Rothfus: I had my head buried in my desk trying to be invisible when she presented herself to me and asked if she could take me around and introduce me to the other classmates. I declined, but I’ve never forgotten the kindness and mentioned it to her recently at our class reunion.
Eventually I got to know my classmates, made friends, and fit in quite well despite my introversion. In particular I remember Roland "Roly" Jones - he was extremely good looking with a kind and winning personality as well as the coolest name ever; I wonder whatever became of him as I do not recollect seeing him after 3rd grade.
My first day in Mrs. Wilkinson’s class was dreadful (it wasn’t the class, teacher, or kids, it was me). A couple of highlights: I meet a kid named Greg (can’t remember his last name) who had recently come back from a trip to Florida and was quite tan. Never having been anywhere south of the Mason-Dixon line, I thought it was quite impressive and exotic - Florida seemed like another world far away. Another was Martha Rothfus: I had my head buried in my desk trying to be invisible when she presented herself to me and asked if she could take me around and introduce me to the other classmates. I declined, but I’ve never forgotten the kindness and mentioned it to her recently at our class reunion.
Eventually I got to know my classmates, made friends, and fit in quite well despite my introversion. In particular I remember Roland "Roly" Jones - he was extremely good looking with a kind and winning personality as well as the coolest name ever; I wonder whatever became of him as I do not recollect seeing him after 3rd grade.
Smoke Gets In Your Eyes
We were gathered at Arnold’s house in Palmyra one evening. I think I was the only kid present and everyone was sitting around the living room listening to an album on the record player. I recall it was something comedic, perhaps Cheech & Chong (my parents didn’t go out of their way to shield us from questionable material). So, as it was the adults all smoked back then and smoked they did in the living room with the windows closed (it was kinda cold out at the time). Eventually cigarette smoke fills the air in the room and I complain that it’s burning my eyes. I was told “If you don’t like it, go outside.” Apparently they didn’t go out of their way to shield us from the health hazard of second-hand smoke, either.
I used to play around with whatever smoldering butts I found in whatever ash trays were around the house, though I knew without somebody telling me that the whole smoking deal was nasty business. Eventually everybody quit smoking for good, except Mom who, in time, took it up again.
I used to play around with whatever smoldering butts I found in whatever ash trays were around the house, though I knew without somebody telling me that the whole smoking deal was nasty business. Eventually everybody quit smoking for good, except Mom who, in time, took it up again.
Taj Mahal
In 3rd grade we did a study of the country of India. The class teacher was Mrs. Hino (teachers didn’t have first names back then, at least that’s what my 3rd grade brain assumed). Also, we sometimes referred to her as Mrs. Hiny behind her back (and her butt, too, come to think of it). Anyways, we split into groups and Mike, Sam, and I choose to do an artistic depiction of the monsoon in India. Our approach was unique in that we did a quite large painting of the Taj Mahal for starters, then intended to paint sheets of rain in front of it. Problem was that our Taj Mahal was so good that it seemed a shame to mask it with rain. So, we put a few big drops here and there to depict the beginning of the monsoon season. I remember Mrs. Hino showing it to the art teacher and he was impressed, despite the fact that it was very 2 dimensional (we had no idea how to draw anything with 3D perspective).
Also interesting was that Mr. Hino payed a visit to the class (wonder of wonders that teachers had spouses let alone existence outside the school grounds!). He admired our painting and even helped us enhance it a bit because he had actually seen the Taj Mahal in person. That was a cool experience, and it remains an enjoyable memory.
Also interesting was that Mr. Hino payed a visit to the class (wonder of wonders that teachers had spouses let alone existence outside the school grounds!). He admired our painting and even helped us enhance it a bit because he had actually seen the Taj Mahal in person. That was a cool experience, and it remains an enjoyable memory.
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