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."