Quote:
Originally Posted by Baz
I'll have to look to see how far but 1 through 12 was within' walking distance, although we moved away halfway through 10 and then it was NOT within' walking distance so we took a damn bus until 11 when we took the family truck. And 12 when we had our own cars.
Back to 1-10.5. Going to 1-6 was straight forward. But 7-10.5 was Lake Taylor - which was on a couple lakes. And a spillway. So that provided some adventures!
We typically rode bikes but I remember walking at times too. Not sure why but man those were some good times back then!
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Half way through my senior year (I’d been living alone, as my Father went back to sea, and my Mother went to Texas to take care of her Father) and I lived literally right across the street from my high school, had a pool, actually was doing better in school on my own. And living across the street and having a pool had its benefits. A lot of benefits
Very good looking benefits. I’ll leave that for another time. But among the things that happened just about halfway through the school year, had I doctors appointment and told my homeroom teacher, Ms Turbiville, that I would be late the next day as I had a doctors appointment, well, all she saw was some laid back kid, always going surfing after school, who didn’t seem to take life seriously, a non stoned, Jeff Spicolli..
So she right off the bat says that she will need a note from my parents. When I explained that my Mother was in Texas and my father was at see, she goes into the “we need to call child services,as you can’t let I’ve alone. Well, my birthday is late in August, which would screw up my placement in the school year, but when I told her that I was 18, and she realized that the kid she pegged as a slacker, didn’t even have to show up for school, but was always there and on time, she was Shocked.
Ok, now for what changed in my senior year in high school. Well, my Father was a real Hardass, he broke his Father’s jaw when he was 17, because he wanted to join the Navy and fight in WWII, his father had it all set, he had been going to a Prep school in NEw York (my father was raised in Depression era Brooklyn) then to Princeton . Of course that changed when he lied about his age and joined, but when I hit my “Growth Spirt” when he had a few Manhattans, the “You’ll never be tougher than the Old Man” lessons, and the fact that he joined a merchant seaman’s union, right after the war, worked his way up (with more than a few being a Enforcer moments) and was with the union until he retired as the agent for the South East and the stories that some of the Sailors and people who worked with him, well he was not to be taken lightly. And about 3/4 through the school year, he returned from sea (and others had even more stories about him, educating guys a 1/3 his age. He always told me that if he thought I was screwing up after I turned 18, he would take me outside and beat the hell out of me. Well, my evil step sister had him over at her house,redoing her wood floors, pouring him full of bourbon (and he was a mean drunk) he came home, I was out, he couldn’t find one of my tools that he needed for the evil stepsister’s house, mine you, these were tools that I bought with the money I earned working at the local Schwinn shop, he did not buy them for me, he didn’t provide me with the money to buy them. Could tell by the tone of his voice that he considered that I had F****ed up, I called my best friend and we loaded what we could of mine into out Datsun 620 trucks and I went to my Aunts home , over seven miles away. But I had a car, so not a big deal, until the rear end went out and I didn’t have the money to buy another one and install it (I went through 3 rear ends in that truck, but again, for another thread) so I rode my bicycle, and still made it to school on time, didn’t miss any days and was very lucky because I had to go through some not very friendly, safe areas, especially for a White boy. Yet I survived,
Yes, my father was a extreme hard ass, but while my older brother was extremely talented, sports, school, artistically gifted etc, I was the runt of the litter, dyslexic, nearsighted, uncoordinated so I had to work 4 times as hard as he equal. Yet, I overcame all of that, plus, my brother got into drugs and of course other trouble, so when he got in trouble, I got punished. In the end, my Father made me a much stronger man, he passed in 1993, but at the club one night, or it may have been on his boat, told me that he really never expected me to much, I didn’t have the God given skills that my brother possessed (and flushed down the crapper) any sport I had to work for the skills, but I never gave up, I just kept pushing. Especially after my brother who was highly talented, he would quit, but I kept pushing myself too succeed. Actually told me that because of the challenges I faced, he didn’t expect much from me, but he was proud of the Man grew to be. That was not long before he unexpectedly passed. That is one thing he gave me that no one can ever take away. Remember Baz, you said you enjoyed our stories about growing up here. And I knew you before you got old.
As for my highly skilled and talented brother, he went under a bridge, not far from where he lived, put a leaf bag over his head and a shotgun under his chin, pulled the trigger, he was worried that rats would get to him. That was 2011, he was only 54.