Announcing a new Facebook Group and a new Blog


We have created a new Facebook Group called

The Childress (Texas) High School Classes of 1960-1966

Created for anyone from the Childress (Texas) High School classes of 1960-1966 who is looking to reconnect or connect with former friends and classmates.

If you are currently a member of Facebook or if you are planning to become a member of Facebook, we invite you to join the group. Contact either Nicki or Jennifer for information.

You are also invited to visit our new blog, Voices From the Class of '63,

Friday, August 31, 2007

Grandma's Attic

Today I took advantage of a cool morning to do something that I had been putting off. Some time ago I created memory boxes for each member of our family. In the girls boxes I put special toys such as Jami’s Toddie Bear, Kim’s Kiddles, newspaper clippings, knick knacks, pictures, Barbies and other items only they could love and hopefully treasure. I did the same for Jim and for me. I knew that those boxes contained long forgotten items from our high school days in Childress including our annuals. These boxes are stored in the attic and can only be accessed when the temperature allows us to, so we always plan our trips up to that dreaded area when it is cool. Even though I put most of the items in our boxes myself, I am still amazed and surprised when I open them up and see what is there. Each item invokes a whole new trip down memory lane. There are pictures of Jim playing basketball along with yellowed and tattered newspaper clippings from his bulletin board that hung in his old Childress bedroom forever. Programs from past banquets and plays, all of my Trixie Belden and Bobbsey Twins books, my kindergarten work and the list goes on. Had I been a better person, I might have organized all of these items into carefully labeled acid free scrapbooks but that never happened, the task having fallen victim to lack of time and other priorities.

Now the task of preserving the past has grown even more daunting. Filling my attic, along with 16 containers of Christmas decorations and 14 more of Fall/Halloween decorations, are the boxes filled with the relics representing the pasts of our mothers and fathers and even grandparents. You know what I mean--labeled and unlabeled pictures back to the 1800's, report cards, letters, enough memorabilia from Jim’s Dad’s one year at Maryville College to convince us that his partying took precedence over studying, military items, and other “stuff”. These are the kind of things that grab our hearts each time we try to get rid of them and pile on guilt trips that cause us to close the boxes and vow to try again another time.

The questions today are these:

What does one do with the items from the past that no longer have value beyond the sentimental? What is our responsibility in preserving the past of our families? Of course, we want to remember our families from the past, but what is the best way to do this? What would our parents say to us today if they could about these items? How would they want them handled and passed on? Do we close our eyes and the lids on the boxes and leave it all there for OUR children to deal with as our parents have done for us?

I know that Jim and I are not alone. This seems to be a common problem for many of us at this time in our lives. I would love to know how you, my former classmates of '63, have dealt with these issues. Talk to me!

For today, I am dusting myself off, closing the attic door, and perhaps I'll read a good book!
Nicki

Thursday, August 30, 2007

The Zen of Studebaker Maintenance and the Tao (道) of Tuffy Maddox ....

Since I posted "Blue Room, Hot Wheels ...", I have talked with a few of my old (!) group, the N-9 (always a delight), who chided me with: "Why didn't you talk about" this or that memory. I assured them that it was not that the memory had escaped me; rather, I held back on a number of stories in hopes that some others would join the conversation. At this posting, they are still hesitating to add their voices ... but I will cajole and/or prod them into it sooner or later ... Linda Kay, Raenell, Jobey and Lynn, at least.... Lynn was actually in the class behind us, but she ran (and drove) with us, so her memories are also memories pertaining to the Class of '63. So, let's hop in the old Studebaker and head once more down Memory Lane (not a bad place to visit).

If it transfers (I am not as familiar with the photo aspects of the blog as Nicki is), you should immediately below this paragraph see a car that looks like mine did (just visualize pink and tan). More memories follow the photo, or the blank space, so just scroll down.
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I remember the time that Lynn and I were playing "spider" on 287, out of sheer boredom ... and because we were both a bit crazed by the paucity of entertainment in Childress. "Spider" ... something I had read about somewhere ... involved my putting my feet up on the dashboard and steering the car, while Lynn got in the floorboard to work the gas and brake pedals. (I told you we were desperate for something to do.) You can imagine the sight that would have been presented as I "motivated" (with a nod to Chuck Berry) up and down the streets. We actually completed one drag of the highway and Main, and were headed back to the park (where I was thinking it might be prudent to resume normal driving) when the light at 12th Street turned red ... and Glen Sanders, who was ahead of us, actually STOPPED for the light. I started screaming "Brake! Brake" at Lynn, but she didn't hit it hard enough, and we rolled into Glen's pickup. Fortunately, there was no damage done to either vehicle ... and by the time Glen (sometimes known as "Teedle") got out to look, Lynn had scrambled back into the passenger seat. Glen asked why I didn't see him stop, but before I could stammer out some sort of explanation, Mike (Mikey) Pennell, who had been riding with Glen, said: "Well, when I looked back, Jennifer had her feet on the dashboard and Lynn wasn't even in the car!" Fortunately, those were less litigious days, and Lynn and I escaped (somewhat) chastened and definitely wiser ... at least as far as playing "spider" was concerned.

I remember the time that Raenell had a slumber party, and at a certain point in the evening (the witching hour?) les girls decided it would be great fun to sneak into the City Park swimming pool and take a midnight dip. The fun was spoiled by "Tuffy" Maddox on one of his rounds through the park, and though most of us were able to escape into the surrounding areas, Linda Sally was busted by Tuffy, who was doing his best old "Dodge Sheriff" shtick as he took her down to the police station and called her parents. Once Linda's parents started calling the other slumber party participants' parents, we all had some "'splainin'" to do.

Then there was the time I almost killed Clarence Darter (who taught Social Studies at CHS our Senior year) ... or at least contributed to a potential premature coronary. Lynn and I partnered in summer "Driver's Ed" classes, and poor Clarence was our instructor, in a "standard" shift car. Lynn showed her driving skills first (her Dad had taught her in their old pickup), and then it was my turn. Unfortunately, I had NO skills with a standard shift, and every time I tried to let out on the clutch, it threw all of us forward. It's amazing Clarence didn't go through the windshield. I eventually mastered the technique, but I'll wager that was the longest six weeks of Clarence's life! When Lynn went with Yahn and I to Ireland in 2003, we rented a stick shift car. However, in Ireland, they drive on the "wrong" side of the road (admittedly, to them it is the "right" side), the steering wheel was in what we would think of as the passenger seat, and the stick shift had to be maneuvered with the LEFT hand. A bit tricky at first, but I couldn't help thinking of Clarence, and how proud (and amazed!) he would have been.

I remember LOTS of graduation parties, for our graduation from both junior high and high school. Do people still do those things? Are they just confined to small towns? Or did they die with the 60s? Anyway, ours were a lot of fun, and I SO remember co-opting our hosts' pianos and playing duets with Linda Kay, while all of us wailed at the top of our lungs to "Heart and Soul," "26 Miles," "Little Darlin'" and some others. My husband Yahn will tell you that I have a particular gift: namely that I can remember the lyrics to most of the songs I have ever heard or liked, with the downside being that I have a decided tendency to sing off key, and to actually get everyone else singing off key as well.

I remember the "Teen Club" initiation the summer before our Freshman year. For some strange reason, we thought it was an honor to be asked to join, although the club itself did absolutely NOTHING once the yearly initiation was over. Eating lard ice cream cones, chewing tobacco (and nearly always having to swallow the juice), schlepping our buckets and baby dolls, and taking a raw egg (down the throat) every time we broke one of the "rules" ... a pretty big field. My "Big Sister" was Brenda Evans, twin of Linda, and every time I addressed the "wrong" sister, I got an egg. Paula Leach took the record number of eggs, because she just couldn't stop talking to boys. Our hair was very shiny that year, though.

OK, people. We basically lived American Graffiti. I've got more stories, and I know you do, too. Nicki and I are developing carpal tunnel syndrome. Somebody, say something!!!!! It will be well-received, I assure you.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Blue Room, Hot Wheels, Purple Prose and the No. 4 Chili Cheeseburger ...

Memories ... shards of the past to reassemble into a semblance of the former whole ... evoked to bring a smile, a laugh, a tear ... sometimes a red face as adolescent peccadilloes and embarrassments are conjured ... mulled and savored and then (sometimes reluctantly, sometimes mercifully) consigned to rest again, just beneath the surface of consciousness until recalled.

In case you haven't guessed, this post is devoted to (random) memories, of Childress, and of the Class of 1963. It is my hope that these diverse remembrances will light the corners of your minds (as Marilyn and Alan Bergman wrote), and encourage you to leave your comments, or your own reminiscences, or both.

I remember the Blue Room, started by Leeman Weir (Class of 1960) and some of his buddies so that there would be someplace for high school kids to go, besides dragging endlessly up and down the streets. I have no idea how Leeman talked his parents into it, but they must have had the proverbial patience of Job, as herds of teenagers swarmed into and out of their home in the evenings, sometimes as they were eating dinner. There was a free jukebox in the room, and blue lights (duh!), and we could dance and talk ... how utterly COOL it all was. One of the biggest memory triggers for me has always been the music of the mid-50s through 1963, and it generally takes only a few notes or a line of lyrics to take me back. [Ooops! According to a "Comment" left by Tom Higley, the Blue Room actually dates back to Evelyn Weir, ca. 1953. I didn't know that and appreciate the correction.]

I remember the cars, and how thrilled some of us were to have our own wheels. I drove a 1957 Studebaker President, tan and pink (eeek!) and yes, with fins!!! Pat Davenport had an old Ford, which she persuaded her father to paint University of Texas orange ... although someone with a pink and tan car is hardly in any position to make value judgments on car colors. Others borrowed their parents' cars, and I remember taking up collections of change (nickels, dimes, quarters) to put gas back into those cars before they were returned home. Of course, gas was only about 25 cents a gallon, unless there was a gas war, when it sometimes dropped under 20 cents. I remember having my first brush with mortality when a group of us girls were riding in the back of Glen Sanders' pickup, and Lynn Purcell and I almost bounced out after Glen hit "Thrill Hill" at about 80 m.p.h.

Like Nicki, I remember surreptitiously reading Lady Chatterley's Lover ... banned in Boston, but sneaked at slumber parties ... although after Peyton Place was published and consumed under covers ca. 1958, Lady Chatterley seemed a bit on the prim side.

I remember the No. 4 Chili Cheeseburger at the Dairy Mart ... and I have never found its equal ... though I can't be absolutely certain that it was REALLY as good as my mind says it was. The No. 3 was a Chiliburger (no cheese), and the No. 2 was the Hickory Burger. For the life of me, I can't remember what the No. 1 was, unless it was just a regular burger, with or without cheese. If anyone can fill in this blank, I will be most appreciative. I also remember riding around with the girls, and stopping at the DM for cool libations ... trying to see if we could "stump" the staff with some totally made-up concoctions. One I remember was the "cherry vanilla cream lime phosphate" ... which they dutifully fixed and had the carhop serve ... although to be honest, we never knew if it was actually a "cherry vanilla" whatever, or just something they had made up in response to our silly, wholly invented request.

I remember a group of us sitting in Frances Long's Home Ec cooking class during our Freshman year, crying as "Teen Angel" played on the radio.

I remember Paula Leach and I flying high on the trampoline on the Gymnastics Team, singularly unconcerned that we might have been in real danger of breaking our necks or appendages, although we probably gave Ms. Pannell a fright or two. I remember watching in awe as Diana Veal perfectly spiked a volleyball, and Pat Davenport and I played innumerable games of killer ping-pong.

I remember sneaking into the Drive-In in the trunks of cars ... not always, just once or twice, just to see if we could do it. I remember "Fat Eye" Cordell patrolling the aisles of the Palace Theater when we became too loud or rowdy. I remember the "Birthday Club" at the Palace, a staple of our childhood. I remember coming out of the Palace with my friends after having seen Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds (1963), getting into my car and driving off down Main. Unfortunately, the air conditioner in the Studebaker had developed a "glitch", which caused it to occasionally make "chirping" sounds. About halfway down the block the air conditioner chirped and I assure you that you have never seen six girls bail out of a car so quickly!!

I remember waiting for KCTX (1510) radio to sign off at sundown so we could listen to KOMA (1520) in Oklahoma City.

I remember dust storms that turned the air absolutely black at noon, and watching the sky when there were tornado warnings.

I remember Bobcat Blue, and pep rallies (with the twirlers performing to "Peter Gunn" and the cheerleaders and the rest of us yelling our hearts out), the "Friday Night Lights", band trips, full orange Fall moons, and the smell of cotton gins.

And I remember the non-school sanctioned dances, and the Junior-Senior banquets, and dragging Main and Highway 287 and through the park.

Most of all, I remember the friends, and the fun, and a time that now only exists in memories ... of "the way we were."

Finding Your Voice On Our Blog


Today I want to take a little time to try to make it easier or less intimidating for more of you to become more involved in our virtual reunion for the Class of '63. For those of you who are not too familiar with blogging, I am going to explain some of the basics involved. First I want to emphasize that this is a first for me, too. I am learning as I go along and fully expect to make some mistakes, but hopefully, not too many noticeable ones!

A blog is defined as "an easily created, easily, updateable website that allows an author or authors to publish instantly to the Internet from any Internet connection. They can be interactive, allowing anyone to begin conversations or add to the information published there."
From the book Blogs, Wikis, Podcasts, and other Powerful Tools for Classrooms by Will Richardson

Someone has to build the blog which I did for the purpose of getting the CHS class of '63 together for a virtual reunion. Hopefully we can get re-acquainted, relive old memories, find out about ourselves and each other as we are today and what we have been doing for the last 44 years. It would be wonderful if we can laugh, have fun, and enjoy this process. We might even shed some tears.
There are two parts to our blog--posts and comments. Posts are what I call the "meat" of the blog. They can start conversations, share information, serve as an "ice breaker", or propose a topic to explore. Posting is generally done by the blog's author (me) and other contributors who are invited to publish on the blogspot (Jennifer). Our posts have titles and appear on the main blog page along with a list of the titles of all the posts at the bottom of the page along with the dates they were published. Clicking on these titles will open a separate page where the post can be read along with any comments that have been published. At the bottom of each post is an invitation for readers to comment or to email the post to someone.

Comments are written by anyone reading or participating in the blog. Generally, comments serve as the threads of a conversation started by something said or shared in the post or in another comment. Anyone can respond to a post or to a comment to keep the conversation going. Clicking on any comment link or option will open a comment box where you can share what you want to say. Under the comment box all you have to do is click the appropriate option preferably giving your name. ( Sorry, but anonymous comments won't be published.) When you are finished, click on publish your comment. That is all you have to do. Your comment will soon appear under the post or comment that you are responding to and you will officially be part of the reunion.

Do I sound like a teacher or what?

I want you to "find your voice" on our website. Express your opinion; let us get to know you; share yourself with us. You are invited to join us at the reunion. It is free; you don't have to pack; dress is optional, but preferred; no special diet to lose weight; just bring yourself online and participate!! We know you are reading us, now we can't wait to "see" you through your blog voice.

Speaking of "seeing you"--if you have old or new pictures you want to share, you can email them to me either as a digital file or snail me a developed picture. I will publish the picture for you and mail the picture back to you if I need to scan it. It is helpful for you to identify people in the picture and tell me the year or date and perhaps the event where the picture was taken.

Please, let us hear you out there!
Nicki
Email: coachwil@suddenlink.net

Oh yes, if you have questions--click on the comments link and let me hear them.

Saturday, August 25, 2007

Reflections from a Teacher

Mr. Darryl Morris has given me permission to share with everyone his wonderful letter in which he reflects on his life up to this point including memories of CHS and his family and their horrifying experience and on 9/11.

Dear Nicki,

I seem to remember that you spelled your name Nikki when you were in high school, but I’m probably wrong since I find all too often that my memories differ considerably from those of my contemporaries since we’re all now entering our seventies (I’ll be 70 this coming November 3rd). Regardless of the spelling (and my questionable memory), I do remember you and Jim and various other members of the CHS Class of ’63. Your class was the first group that had to contend with my pedagogical stumblings and bumblings as I first entered into the teaching profession after graduation from West Texas State College (now West Texas A & M) in 1961. I think I was 24 or 25 years old when I began teaching (having spent time and training in the Marine Corps Reserve between my sophomore and junior years in college); and I can only hope that I didn’t scar any of you too badly as I struggled to gain my particular foothold in the workaday world.

You’re correct about my being related (by marriage) to Mrs. Dottie Bettis. Dottie is the widow of Jim Bettis (of the former Bettis Electric in Childress) who is my wife’s oldest brother. Dottie and I are also “almost related” in the sense that her brother Dewey “Potty” Sisk married my Aunt Viola, my dad’s youngest sister. Dottie’s children, Lynn, Larry, and Terry Bettis are my wife’s niece and nephews.

Like you, I remember Mr. Jones, the history teacher, along with Mr. A.B. Shaw, Ms. Nellie Agnes Kennedy, the school custodian Mr. Luke Lanier, the principal Mr. Garland Terrell, Mr. Harmon, and another long-time lady teacher whose name I cannot now recall—all of whom were very kind to me and who offered invaluable guidance and assistance as entered the education profession. I also seem to remember a lady named Loretta Kaplan who came there during my last year, although I can’t remember what course she taught. I also think that one of my own former classmates from Quail High School, Mary Jo Johnson, was joining the CHS faculty on the year that I left. I can’t remember what Mary Jo taught (home economics, perhaps?), but I do remember that she married one of the Gage brothers who had the Gage Grocery in Childress.

With a mother who spent 40 years in the education profession—as a classroom teacher, elementary school principal, high school principal, and, finally, Superintendent of Schools in Collingsworth County (Wellington), with numerous cousins and uncles who served in World War II, and with my previous experience in the Marine Corps Reserve, I was always somewhat torn between a career as a teacher and a career in the military service. Finally, in November of 1963, the military career won out, and I left CHS to enter the Army at Fort Sill, Oklahoma. During my Army career I served at Fort Sill, OK (three tours), Vietnam, Korea, Germany, Fort Leavenworth, KS, and, finally, Fort Hood, TX. I was also selected by the Army to attend graduate school at the University of Pennsylvania where I received a Masters Degree in English, followed by a three-year tour as an Assistant Professor of English at the United States Military Academy at West Point, NY. This was one Army assignment, at least, during which my affinities for teaching and for the military life were gratified simultaneously.

In 1984, I retired from the Army as a Lieutenant Colonel and then went to work at Central Texas College, near Fort Hood, as an Instructional Design Specialist on a government-sponsored project which required overseas travel for two 45-to-60-day periods each year. I liked the work and the pay, but I wearied of the travel and was glad when the project ended after eight years. Following that, I taught Freshman Composition and Rhetoric I and II and Sophomore Technical Writing for two more years at Central Texas College, at which time I was vested in the Employee Retirement System of Texas. So, I retired once again in 1995. Sharon, my wife of 48 years, retired from the Federal Civil Service three years later; and, since then, we have devoted our so-called Golden Years to doing the things we’ve always wanted to do but never had time for when we were gainfully employed. Sharon makes machine embroidered quilts, and I spend my time reading, writing, doing art, and trying to keep the grass mowed around the rural homesteads we’ve occupied for the past two decades.

After retiring from the Army at Fort Hood, we lived in rural Lampasas County, TX, for 10 years before health considerations (mine and my mother’s) necessitated our move to a rural home near Fort Sill, Oklahoma. At some point after retiring from the Army, I had a “silent” heart attack and also contracted asthma which was severely aggravated by an allergy to mountain cedar which grew profusely in Lampasas County. I was in such bad shape that we decided we needed to find another place to live; and when my mother entered her 90s and needed some assistance, we moved in 2003 to our present location where we could remain near military and VA hospital facilities and, at the same time, be near enough to my mother’s home in Wellington, TX, that we could travel there easily as needs arose. We also moved to our current location to be nearer the family farming operation which we still have in Collingsworth County. The move was therapeutic for all of us, and I am now regaining my health, which is a blessing since my poor health had formerly forced me to withdraw into a rather reclusive lifestyle.

Sharon and I have three daughters and one granddaughter. Our oldest daughter Debra (and mother of our granddaughter Louisa) received her Bachelors Degree in government from the University of Texas and went on to Yale University to get two Masters Degrees and a PhD in political science (which I tell her is an oxymoron, much to her chagrin). She taught at the University of Virginia for 5 years before quitting to become a mother before her biological clock chimed for the last time. She now works for Pearson, Inc., in Austin. Pearson is involved in the achievement testing that is done with high school students throughout the state. Her daughter Louisa is a second-grader in an elementary school near Austin.

Middle daughter Nicole (whom we’ve always called “Nicki”) graduated with a Bachelors Degree in English from Texas A & M and also taught for five years in Spring High School near Houston. Now, however, she works for Triand, Inc., an Austin-based company which subcontracts to Pearson, Inc.

Youngest daughter Sharyl also graduated from Texas A & M with a Bachelors Degree in English. Sharyl never taught English in high school. Instead, she worked as an assistant librarian at Tufts University in Boston before she and her husband moved to Seattle, where she is employed with the Department of Pharmacy of the University of Washington.

I’ve mentioned that my mother is in her 90s. In fact, she will be 94 on September 11, which is a holiday we view with mixed emotions in our household. In 2001, my mother was at our house in Texas, and when I arose on the morning of September 11 to wish her a happy birthday, I saw the awful picture of the burning World Trade Center towers on TV. My daughter Debra was working for the Morgan-Stanley investment company at that time, and we knew she was in New York undergoing some training with the company. What we didn’t know until we called her husband was that she was doing her training in the World Trade Center. She was on the 61st floor of the south tower, the second tower hit but the first to fall; and as we watched the towers crumble, we feared that we had lost our oldest daughter in the conflagration following that terrible terrorist attack. We plunged into a deep pit of grief until four hours later when Debra’s husband called to tell us that she had miraculously gotten out of the building via the stairway and had run for approximately four blocks before the tower collapsed. It was a harrowing experience for all of us; but, as my mother remarked later that day, what started out as the worst birthday of her long life turned out to be the best when we found out that Debra had survived. Needless to say, with something like this striking so close to home, I have definite opinions regarding our participation in the worldwide war on terror.

Well, Nicki, I’m sure I’ve told you more that you ever really wanted (or needed) to know about the travels of Clan Morris since we left the hallowed halls of dear old CHS to seek our fortunes in other climes. If you wish to post this information on your blogspot, please feel free to do so. Or, if you prefer, you might edit this material to get rid of my verbose ramblings and post only what you consider to be essential items of information. Finally, you might decide not to post any of this, which I assure you will not offend me at all. I just wanted to check in with you and let you know that I have not forgotten my short stint as a teacher in Childress High School and that I have thought of the place and the people I met there very often in my life since I left in 1963.

I send you and Jim my very best wishes for a long life and good health and hope you will convey the same to any other of my former students who might remember me.

Sincerely,
Darryl Morris

Thursday, August 23, 2007

The Memories I Don’t Have

I recently spent an afternoon immersed in the music of the 60’s. As each golden oldie played, it evoked a flood of memories taking me back to my teen years and making it possible for me to once again experience the sights, sounds, and tastes from my youth. The memories I have are pleasant and filled with good times and good friends. I remember it as a far more simple time. However, there are a host of things that I simply don’t have in my memory bank, and that is the topic for today: The Memories I Don’t Have.

The obvious items missing from my memory include cell phones, mp3 players, computers, calculators, microwave ovens, the Internet, answering machines, email, or text messages. Even television was limited and often programs were in black and white. There were no DVR or DVD players, or for that matter CD’s or music in any form other than records. Of course, these items had to be envisioned, invented, and made available to those of us not on the cutting edge. We made it just fine through our young lives without these items, but I can assure you, I would miss them immensely today.

I don’t remember having any expectations of getting a car on my sixteenth birthday, but I do remember having to beg my mother to let me use the family car to take my friends to drag main. I remember that she always checked the mileage and set a limit on how far I could go.

I don’t remember ever being afraid when I entered Childress High School (unless I hadn’t done my homework) that I would find myself face to face with one of my classmates armed with weapons. I don’t remember anyone killed in our school and I don’t remember anyone being allowed to disrupt the classroom without swift punishment.

I don’t remember that my vocabulary or that of classmates was so limited that only inappropriate words, obscenities, and curse words would constitute a conversation with my peers. I remember that I believed my mother would truly wash my mouth out with soap.

I have no memory in my sheltered cocoon of a life of seeing blatant nudity or drug use, and I don't remember ever having a conversation with my parents about the dangers of sex or the dangers of abusing alcohol or drugs. I do remember that there were things we just didn’t talk about.

I have no memory of ever being told that I could, as a girl or woman, consider becoming anything other than a nurse, teacher, or secretary. I remember wishing I could be a lawyer.

I have no memory of ever being told that the encyclopedia didn’t contain all the things that we needed to know.

I have no memories of cultural diversity in our lives or that there was another high school in Childress other than Childress High School.

I have no memories of world events being a part of my daily life until the Cuban Missile Crisis. I remember that my “sheltered cocoon of a life” began to crack open during that time.

I have no memories of eating in a restaurant except on a rare occasion. I do remember my mother cooking hamburgers and wrapping them in waxed paper to take to the drive-in movies so we could eat.

Remember, the topic for today is “The Memories I Don’t Have” and I would love for you to share what you “don’t remember”.

Nicki

Friday, August 17, 2007

Where in the World is......The Class of '63

The topic of this post could be "Childress in the Rear View Mirror." So many of the member of our class have scattered and it would be interesting to know where everyone is living, working, retiring or traveling these days. It would appear from some of the emails and comments that I have had that this is a true topic of interest so I am, hopefully, providing an area where this type of information can be added and enjoyed.

Jim and I left Lubbock in 1968 after graduating from Tech. We have been here ever since except for a one year move to Booker, Texas where Jim enjoyed his first year of coaching. After many years in the golf business, Jim found himself, returned to WTAMU, finished his degree and got his teacher's certificate so he could pursue his goal of coaching girls basketball which he did for the next 20 years. He enjoyed a very successful career, winning two state titles with the Lady Raiders of Randall High School in 1992 and 1998. In 2004 he became the 135th member of the Panhandle Sports Hall of Fame. I took a more straight forward path and spent 33 years in the school system here in Amarillo first as a classroom teacher, then as a school librarian, and finally retiring as an instructional technology specialist where I worked with teachers and staff development. We have two great daughters, Kim and Jami. Kim and her husband, Vince, and our grandson, Cole who is 7, live in Flower Mound. Jami along with her husband Dorsey, stepson, Hart who is 14, and her son, Jordie who is 12, live here in Amarillo. Our grandsons continue to serve as a constant source of joy to us and we could spend hours telling you how cute, smart, and talented they are, but we will restrain ourselves unless you ask. We don't travel very much except around Texas mostly watching grandsons play baseball. However, we did make a trip to New York City a couple of years ago and can't wait to go back someday. Hopefully, we will someday make it to Alaska for a cruise.

We do still have ties to Childress. Both sets of our parents have died over the past 5 years. We still have the Wilcoxson home there. When Jim is in town he always pays a visit to the Childress Bakery to enjoy coffee and donuts with all the men early in the morning. This is a source of news for us especially when Philip Self is present and holding court.

Enough about us! We can't wait for you guys to log in and share with us. Remember if you don't want to go the blog route, send your comments by email to me and I will publish it for you.
coachwil@suddenlink.net

Nicki

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Best Friends Forever (BFF)

Over the years I have made many friends no matter where we have gone. I have co-worker friends from the various places that I have worked and some have lasted--some haven't. We have great friends that share the common factor of having raised our children together through schools and extra-curricular activities. Then there are neighbor friends, church friends, and friends that don't fit in any category except they are fun to be with. However, perhaps the most lasting friends are those who fit into that special place in our hearts and in our memory known as our former classmates sometimes as far back as elementary school. They are those who have known us longer and perhaps better than anyone else. They have seen us at our best and sometimes our worst and like us anyway. They are the ones that we have sometimes neglected for a lifetime and are still glad to see us and take us back to share whatever time we give them again.

Against my will, my parents moved my brothers and me to Childress the summer before my sophomore year. I was so distraught and being a 15 year old girl, I was certain that my life was over. I honestly can't remember how it all evolved, but some how that summer, I found myself embraced by a group of girls just my age who welcomed me into their world. The next three years become some of the very best of my life. I will never forget the slumber parties with Bettye's tuna fish sandwiches, reading all the "good" parts of Lady Chatterly's Lover and other books not to be found in our school library, dragging main, hanging out at the Dairy Mart, and the drive-inn. Somehow, even though I can't remember all of the details of those times, it is still pretty easy to conjure up the feeling of belonging that made my high school years a time to cherish. Sadly, I am well aware that not everyone had my experience of being part of a group and feeling accepted. For some of us it just didn't happen like that for whatever reason, and I know I was one of the lucky ones. I don't know why but I am eternally grateful to Clara, Bettye, Dian, Pat and Arlyna. Thanks guys and I love you!

Someone recently told me that because she had not been able to keep in touch with people from Childress that they had all become strangers. This gave me something to ponder so I went to my pondering partner, Jim. I asked him what he thought about this and I like his answer. He said that for some reason when he sees former classmates from Childress, it is as if it is 1960 again and that becomes the starting point for going forward. It is as if he picks up a conversation from the past and all is right with the world. So, now is our chance to pick up the conversation, share the stories and step back a bit to a very different time in our lives.

Stepping back to that time in 1960, when my parents dragged me kicking and screaming to our new home in Childress, they stopped in at the Highway Cafe that very first night for dinner. Sitting in the booth across from my family was a man who sold insurance that my dad had previously met on a trip to Childress . Sitting with this insurance man was his son. Introductions were made and I was grossed out that my parents had introduced me to a BOY FROM CHILDRESS! Would the horror of that day never end! I suppose I was a bit dramatic. That was the night I met Jim Wilcoxson and the rest is history.

My mother loved to tell that story until the day she died. That was how I met my "BFF".
Nicki

Monday, August 13, 2007

Reflections on a Teacher at CHS

Hello Fellow Members of the Class of 63. My goal is to post at least once a week during this experiment for contacting our old (not a good word!) classmates. There are so many of you that we have had little or no contact with over the last 44 years. It has been wonderful when we have seen you. Without fail, it has been a pleasure to see you and visit with you. My second goal is to post comments from Jim. He isn't a computer person, but in the spirit of the blog, I think I can get him to participate. In the beginning, I am going to suggest a topic to get us talking, but feel free to add comments and information as we go along. Additionally, please pass the blog information along to any of our class members that you can contact. As time goes by, I will share more information about Jim and me, but this isn't just about us; we want to know about you, too. Jim and I are both retired educators. I have been retired for starting 5 years, and Jim is starting his 4th year. We do love not having to be tied to a schedule; however my first year I kept waiting for the school bell to ring so I would know where to go and what to do, after all a school bell had been my guide since I was 5 years old. Jim, on the other hand, slid seamlessly into retirement and hasn't left the golf course yet. He loves it!

My topic today is to share a memory of one of our teachers at Childress High School. I have a picture in my head of our junior American History teacher, Mr. Jones. It was about the first day of school that year and he was a new fresh out of school teacher--young and obviously very nervous! As he was beginning his lecture of the day, he sat on a stool and fell off. Whoa, poor Mr. Jones! I am sure everyone laughed! As the years have passed by, I have had occasion to remember that event and his obvious embarrassment. I once had to be the new young teacher and have survived those moments, but I can only hope we gave him a break. (not a good word either) Jim adds to the memory by reminding me that young Mr. Jones also told us that we wouldn't need our textbooks for a while as he would be lecturing to us. Apparently, he covered his entire "two week" lecture the first day. Mr. Jones, if you are still out there, "Thanks for the memories! We would love to hear from you, too. I am sure you have memories of those "good" old days also. I recognize now that you were barely older that we were!" This memory has taught me that experience is indeed the best teacher.

Nicki