I've been thinking about the term "everyday life", and what it means. As kids, I think it meant waking up each day and doing whatever life threw at you to do. Not whatever you wanted to, otherwise none of us would have ever gone to school. And a lot more candy would have been eaten, and no vegetables at all. Except for playing under the hose in summers, or playing in the creek, most boys would never touch water.
This, my second blog on the topic, is titled "Walking With Cousins", because my cousin, Wanda, was like my sister when we were little girls. I never had a sister, but Wanda did. Nan, if you are reading this, I love you, and I want to officially apologize for some of the mean tricks Wanda and I played on you back then.
Duncan Elementary sat on this little hill, behind D.R. Hill Jr High, in Duncan, SC. I started there my second year of school. A lot of kids walked home from school back then, my cousin Wanda and I did too most days. The problem was that she lived in one direction and I lived in the opposite direction from the school.
On some days the pull to go home with each other was too much to resist. It overpowered our fear of getting in trouble for not asking permission first. What kid can think of Everything in the fast paced mornings of school days? OK, I'm willing to admit, it was probably more my doings that Wanda's. But it was such fun to walk from the school with Wanda, and some of our friends. It's just that the walk wasn't long enough to get all that girl talk out of our systems.
School was a whole lot different back then. There was absolutely no talking in class unless you were called upon by the teacher, and she had a signed affidavit stating that you could in fact open your mouth. Kids were actually afraid to get in trouble at school in the 50's and 60's. It would not have entered our little Southern, mostly Baptist minds to disobey a teacher. And forget a quick whisper in the hallways. Teachers had eyes in the back of their heads, and radar hearing. We were like children of the Zombie's until we stepped outside on the playground. Then, there was jump rope or the merry-go-round, or swings to frantically do before the dreaded Recess Bell rang. And boys (yuk) chasing us. So the talking and dreaming had to be done after school.
The problem was that about an eighth of a mile down the sidewalk from the school, Wanda needed to go left, and I needed to turn right to continue towards home. And you know a girl can't get any serious talking done in that little space of time. Our friend, Marsha, lived across the street from the school, so we had like a nano-second with her. Another thing kids did not do was dawdle on the way home. You really didn't want your parents to come looking for you if you weren't home when you should have been, or if a sibling had already made it.
My mother always told my five brothers and me to "stay together" as we walked home. Fat chance. We all had friends to walk with. So we would meet up in a field a short distance from our house and walk the rest of the way together. That field is where we would usually lose Ronnie. He was a nature lover before it became popular to be one.
I could talk to Wanda about anything and everything. Just as I imagined you would a sister. She was a great listener too. And I have always loved to talk. Those of you reading this who know me, know that is the understatement of the history of the Earth.
On those days when the pull was too much as we reached the turning point in our journey home, I usually would make the left turn with Wanda, and cross the railroad tracks that sliced the road and led to places we never thought about.
Walking with my cousin, as young girls, I only thought about wherever she was. And maybe this place called OZ, but that was somewhere over the rainbow, not the railroad tracks.
Pammy Jo
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