You knew better than that. I knew better, but did it anyway.

I regretted the act, but can never forget it.

We all have done things in our lives growing up that we look back upon and think,“What was I thinking.” The first statement is what our parents or a teacher would have said to us. The second two statements are what we thought in our minds.

I can remember when school began and I was in the first grade. We were allowed to go to town during our lunch time. After eating my lunch, a friend and I went to town and we entered the two-story Glover Variety Store, (present day Allen Food Center). We proceeded up to the second floor and started looking at the cheap plastic airplanes. They were cheap because they were made in Japan. Our government was helping Japan get its economy back on track. They probably cost a nickel. I had a red one and my friend a blue one. Neither of us had any money, we looked at one another and then put the plastic planes in our pockets and left without paying. All that afternoon in class, I was thinking how do I handle this, my folks would get me if I took it home and they saw it. On the bus ride home, out the window it went. I didn’t want to hear the,“You know better than that.” Of course, I have never forgotten that act.

My brother, RW, use to have a lot of fun telling about when in the second grade, after Christmas break, how the teacher had each student to stand and tell what all they got for Christmas. For our large family, our gifts were family gifts, usually a box of apples or oranges, sweet candy, hard rock candy, and some of those hard California nuts that took a hammer to crack open. Anyway, RW said when it came his turn, he wasn’t going to be embarrassed. He would say,“ I lied out of my teeth.” According to his version he got as many or more gifts than anyone in his class. This story was not told to our parents or he would have received from them the first statement I earlier wrote.

In High School, during my Junior year, all of the boys that were in Agriculture class had Mrs. Revels as our English teacher. You could not find a sweeter, more excellent teacher than her. She was very patient when we would tell her about an experience that had happen to us. One student came in and he asked her to listen to what the agriculture teacher told him, he proceeded to repeat the statement to Mrs. Revels. “The teacher said I had an altitude so low that I could put on a stove top hat, crawl under the belly of a snake and never touch it. She smiled and said, It’s your attitude, not your altitude. Lots of laughter from the rest of us.

Mrs. Revels had us write a book report every nine weeks. I had read all the blue colored books about our American presidents, explorers, and sports heroes. I just wasn’t into reading. A classmate told me, just make one up. I did that, turned it in and got at least a “B” for it. I thought, “I can do that.” My report was titled “Last Year’s Hero.” It was about a football player that excelled during his junior year, but nothing his senior year. After reports were graded, Mrs. Revels would have a one-onone conversation about our writing. She was also in charge of the library and knew every book there. She gave me every opportunity to tell the truth. I just kept telling her I got it from a book in the library. Again, another life lesson. I have always regretted that I never told Mrs. Revels the truth.

In the spring of 1961 my brother and I were allowed to drive a gray 1951 Mercury car. It was built like an army tank. Both bumpers were chrome steel. Once while driving east on Broadway, I pulled up behind this girl, she was stopped in the street with her window down talking to James McDonald who was also stopped on the inside curve of the boulevard. I stopped my car about a foot from her car. About that time, Jerry Bob Brewer came barreling down the street waving to his girlfriend who lived on the south side of the street. When he turned his head toward the road, he couldn’t stop his car in time and rear-ended me. That made my car hit the girl’s car. My motor ended up against the radiator. Great teenage minds got together, we decided that no damage was done to the girl’s car and since she was driving without a license, to keep her out of trouble, she should go on home. Jerry was still able to drive his car, but we had to get a log chain and pull mine home. I never told my dad about the third car. When the insurance adjuster came out, I had to go outside and explain the accident. He kept questioning me about how many cars were involved. He looked that old Mercury over, tooth and nail. Finally, my dad came out and was given an offer of $300 for the car and the insurance would haul it off or give him $250 and he could keep the car. He kept the car, and after the adjuster left, we got a set of comea- longs and pulled the motor back into position. We drove the old car for a long time, but it was always going down the road sideways because the frame was warped.

Later on I understood the questioning by the insurance adjuster. If only two cars were involved and I was hit from behind, the motor should have been next to the firewall. I knew better, but did it anyway and have never forgotten it. It did make for a good illustration for Newton’s Law of Inertia when teaching physics.

I did have some explaining to do for the girl’s brother for a few days. It was actually his car that I hit and he could not get the trunk open. He had to take a crowbar and make an adjustment for it to open. So much for great teenage minds.

The first week of my senior year, I was enrolled in two classes back-to-back with the same teacher, typing and general business. During study hall on the first Friday of the first week of school, I managed to talk the teacher into letting me go up where the carpentry class was working on the Free Will parsonage house, just a block from school. When I got there, I saw my three football teammates, Windy Woffford, Charles Brand, and Poncho Johnson, under the shade tree eating fried pies they had bought from the Church of God across from the school. You could get them for less than a dime, apple, apricot or chocolate. On the way back, milk at the cafeteria was only two cents a carton. I asked my friends why they were taking it easy when everyone else was inside or working on the roof. They explained that they had convinced the teacher that football players were not suppose to work on game day. I thought, this is the class I need to be

in!

First thing on Monday I was in the office explaining to the principal why I needed to be learning about working with a hammer and saws instead of a typewriter. I had nothing to write about and didn’t have money to even think about in general business. He finally agreed to let me change classes. I couldn’t wait until Friday came. When it did come, we did as they had previously done the week before. We were having a good time under the shade tree talking football and our opponent that night. About that time up walks the school superintendent, Mr. Weaver. He asks what we were doing, we replied, oh, just taking a break, we stagger breaks so someone is always working. I don’t believe he thought that was true.

He went inside the house and visited with the teacher for a few minutes, then left without saying another word to us. As soon as he was out of sight, our teacher comes to us and we get a royal chewing out. Up to the roof we went. No more of that football resting time. I always thought a lot of Mr. Weaver because he left the disciplining of us to the teacher and did not make him look small in front of us, because of what we had done. Again, another example of “I knew better, but I did it anyway.”

When a young guy is a senior in high school, things sometimes take a different look. You are in a world by yourself, not much else seems too important. My senior year in high school I was really not too knowledgeable about the work going on with our farm. That was the year that anti-toxoplasmosis was really infecting and killing cattle. My uncle Andrew even had one cow go wild and run over him. I didn’t know what land we were renting, really didn’t care.

After football season was over the following week, that Friday afternoon I talked a classmate, James McDonald into skipping school all afternoon. We went down to Citra and picked up pecans for four hours. The land was just east and south of the Citra Cemetery. Around five we took our pecans to the grocery store and cashed them in. We split the money two ways and went home.

While eating supper, my dad asked, “where were you all afternoon?” I told him about us picking the pecans and getting the money. We were broke and needed some money. He then questioned me about where we picked the pecans. I told him, his response was that we don’t have that land rented anymore. You had better call your friend, get your money and go see tell the owner what you have done.

James and I met at town, pooled our money, headed south to see the owner, not knowing what was going to happen. It was after dark, we went up to his porch, the light came on and out steps the owner with these words, “How can I help you boys?” We explained what we had done, trying to get some measure of mercy. He asked to see our money, we handed it to him, he looks at us and says, “Thank you boys”, turns and goes into his house and the porch light goes off. We were stunned!! We then headed back to town, just as broke as we started out with at noon. We didn’t even get sharecropper money.

The two of us to this day have never forgotten what we did. But we learned a valuable lesson for the rest of our lives. In my mind I still have the thought that my dad probably saw my car at Citra, knew what we were doing and got with the owner to set this lesson up. Back in that time, schools to my knowledge did not call parents when you missed school.

I am making this sound as though I was a terrible student during my senior year. I like to think not. However, maybe my agriculture teacher summed it up best. The last Monday at the end of school, the high school faculty had a meeting that ran over about fifteen minutes into our class time. They were discussing what awards and to whom would they be given. Being mature seniors, we were like first graders, all in our places with sunshiny faces.

When our teacher came into the room, he took off his hat, sat down, wiped his forehead, looked back at me and said, “Mr. Borders, I don’t know what all you have done this year, but you don’t have a teacher friend over there,” all the while pointing to the high school building. I know I wasn’t voted by my classmates as the one most likely to succeed, but I could have gotten the award for most likely to sack feed!

It’s good that in our society we don’t judge our young people too quickly. We expect respect and good behavior, but allowance is made for immaturity. I did get over my high school senior behavior less than two weeks later when I stepped onto the