The Day I Walked Away From 1967

Everything that happened to me from birth through high school occurred for a reason and mostly with the guidance and urgings of my parents, teachers, relatives and other older folks . I learned the things you are supposed to learn. I learned to love, share, play, work, grieve and pray. I went through the normal trends of friendship from childhood playmates to schoolmates, from teammates to running mates. There were relationships made up of family, close friends, casual friends, acquaintances and those who, even though I knew their name, I didn't really know.

There are a lot of things that I remember from those days. It's really funny that a lot of the things I remember best are some of the more trivial things, things that make me laugh, things that make me feel warm inside, things that make me feel a little sad because they are so far gone. I can remember setting by the radio at nights doing my homework and listening to Riney Jordan on the radio waiting for a dedication that involved someone I knew and occasionally getting up the guts to call in a dedication myself. Of course the next day I would deny that it was me that called it in when approached by friends that had heard it the night before.

I remember Teen Timers held at the old Community Center. I loved Teen Timers and could hardly wait from week to week in anticipation of going. I really don't know why I loved it so, I was scared to death of asking a girl to dance, even though Mom had done a pretty good job of teaching me to dance. I would live for the "Lady's Choice" announcement and hope that a girl would ask me to dance and that it would be a slow song -- "Blue Velvet" would be fine.

There are other things I remember: my first car (1956 Nash Ambassador), tight white Levi jeans, Cross Trainer running shoes (black with white stripes on the side) and butch haircuts. I can remember making the drag to see who was out and about, sitting at the "Maid" having one of the best chocolate milkshakes or malts in town and the orange plastic giraffe stuck on top of the shake. I don't know why a giraffe, but I bet I had a hundred of them hanging from the netting over the sun visors in my car. Mr. Cole and his son Peewee ran the Dairy Maid and even though Mr. Cole appeared to be an old grouch, we knew he loved us, why else would he have put up with us as long as he did.

I can remember camping out with my buddies at the Country Club grounds, water skiing on Lake Brownwood in the summer and going to the Midnight Matinee with my friends, when my folks would let me. I can remember climbing to the top of the huge concrete water tower in Camp Bowie and hearing the old farmer out in his field yelling, "Get down from there you crazy idiots!" Thinking back, I think I agree with the old farmer, we were idiots.

Then there was good ole Brownwood High School itself. I can remember the smell of the grass as we went through football practice after school. I recall the sounds of the band as they went though their practice rounds and the sight of the drill team going through their paces. I remember hearing the last school bell of the day and seeing my fellow students filing out of the building and toward the parking lot, some walking and visiting and some in a dead run. I can still hear the roar of some of the 'souped up' cars cranking in the parking lot and hearing them leave a little rubber as they made their departure.

There are so many things that I still remember about high school; the loud chatter of the lunchroom before the start of school and again at lunch, Miss Mac's choir class where we learned more than just music, the assemblies (the fun ones, and the not so fun ones), the bustle of the locker rooms between classes and the sound of books hitting the floor because someone had rigged someone else's locker, sitting in the classes with the glass wall facing the walkway outside and watching fellow students walking by during class and wondering why they were heading to the office, I can remember the library but I don't know why -- I really never used it that much and I can still hear the roar of the pep rallies. I can still remember the smell of cigarettes as you walked into the bathroom and a fellow student standing there with a halo of smoke over his head as he tried to look innocent. I was always amazed at how well and how fast they could hide a burning cigarette.

Some of my fondest memories involved Friday night football. The noise of the full stadium, the sounds of the band, the cheerleaders, the drill team and the fans all made this night magical. I remember the huge Mums that the girls wore, some looked more like parade floats than a corsage, but all the girls always looked extra pretty on Friday night. I fell in love with many a Brownwood girl but most never knew it. Oh yeah, the Victory Dances, can't forget them, seems like we had a bunch of those.

Then 1967 came around and the day I walked away from all these memories came as well. I wish I would have realized what I was leaving behind. I wish that I had known then how many special, talented and intelligent people I had the good fortune of sharing my early life with. We all grew up in the same town, drank the same water, shopped at the same stores, prayed to our God and listened to the same radio stations. Those are some of the things that will forever make us connected.

My regrets are few. I regret that I had good friends that I thought would be close forever and we haven't been. I regret that there are those of my youth that I didn't get to know better based on what I know of them now. They say you can't go back, but I take that trip on a regular basis and I take a different road each trip.