is a time of trial and error, a time of experimentation,and a time of new adventures. Many adolescent experiences are awkward, but a number are rewarding and reinforcing. Whether in success or failure, we learn in adolescence about the world at large and about ourselves. This period of life is exciting. It is filled with a lot of restraints, such as ones on consuming alcohol, but it also offers a lot of freedom, such as a driver’s license.
The stories in this section, although personal, reflect some of the frustration, hope, determination, finesse, setbacks, and leaps forward that fill the lives of teenagers. Although set in a particular time and location, these anecdotes have a universal aspect to them that transcends their individuality.
• • •
Chapter 16 Making the Grades . . . Almost!
I thought I had some intelligence as teenager, but compared to the top tier of students at Decatur High School I was on a secondary level. As Jo Dee Messina’s lyrics would later describe, but in another context, I was “above the below and below the upper.” I did not have a science, technology, engineering, and mathematics mind, and I was not especially fast at picking up complex concepts. To make matters worse, my spelling and pronunciation of words were abysmal. When I was told to look up words in the dictionary, I often failed because I could not decipher the letter the word began with or certain vowels and consonants. For instance, when the orchestra from the Baptist Children’s Home visited our church—and they did so twice—I could have sworn the minister said their orphanage was in “Hateville,” not “Hapeville.” To house orphans in Hateville seemed very odd and ungodly!
There was also the matter of leaving letters out of words or adding them in. For instance, I spelled “library” as “libary” until my first year in college. To rectify this problem, I later married a librarian. Then there was pronunciation. I usually mispronounced words I had never seen before, even one-syllable words. I also eschewed words that began with certain letters, like “w,” because I could not get the sound right. (That is why I do not live in Washington—the state or DC!)
To combat my deficiencies, I developed a routine for studying and completing my homework. It involved rote memorization. After supper, I went to the room in the back of the house, which had a desk, a lamp, and space for my schoolbooks. There I tackled my homework assignments starting with the hardest one first. I was focused and occasionally would finish before my bedtime at 11 p.m.
I cannot say I enjoyed this weekday routine of memorizing, although I liked learning and my ritualistic behavior helped me get better grades than I would have otherwise. I was at peace knowing I was doing the best I could, but my biggest wish was for a more functional brain.
Chapter 17 Hard Work
My dad grew up on a farm and worked hard every day of the week but Sunday. He was an even-tempered man who had a good sense of humor and liked to hunt and fish with friends. He had a dog as a boy whose name was Jack. My father’s family was Methodist and attended church each Sunday in the little town of Hallwood, Virginia.
When I was growing up in the suburbs of Atlanta, my dad “farmed” the backyard. He was so efficient that he literally grew most of the vegetables that we ate during the winter. That was good because he did not make a lot of money and my mother did not work until I was in high school. At one time, my father grew 26 different kinds of vegetables and took care of a pear, an apple, and two peach trees. He and my mother canned fruits and vegetables at the end of each growing season and stored them in our basement. Although my brother and I did not hunt and only occasionally fished, we had a dog named Chum who was a mixed breed. Sometimes in the winter we would shoot our 22-caliber rifles at cans in the backyard, but mostly we played pickup games of seasonal sports when we were not doing chores or homework. We attended the Baptist church every Sunday and Wednesday night because my mother had grown up Baptist and my dad did not see a lot of difference between being a Baptist and being a Methodist.
My brother, sister, and I were urged to work hard. To do less than one’s best was considered sinful. It was OK, although disappointing, not to succeed. It was not OK to give less than 100% at everything. I am sure that the work ethic my parents instilled in me and the success I saw my father finally have because he worked hard have influenced the way I have approached life.
Chapter 18 I Married the Football Team
I was never picked on in high school. Maybe one reason why is that I took precautions. I married the football team (and later one of their players in what was described as a “womanless wedding”). I became a football manager from my sophomore year on. For a guy who was 5 feet 2 and 115 pounds, the move was sheer finesse. After all, in the 1960s, football was wildly popular in Georgia. To be their best, football players relied on managers for everything from getting good equipment to getting a proper pregame ankle taping. Therefore, managers were treated favorably. Instead of depending on a guardian angel to protect me from those who might have thought of picking on me, I relied on about 50 guys who were considered the biggest, strongest, and toughest in the school environment.
The arrangement worked well. I went out of my way to supply members of the team with whatever they needed. Many of them in turn hung out with me before, during, and after school. As an extra insurance policy, although I did not need it, I became the athletic editor of the yearbook my senior year. Did I have friends? Yes, and no overt enemies. Plus, I had a lot of fun both on and off the field, whether it was packing and carrying equipment or picking and placing photographs with just the right captions for the annual.
I look back on those years and activities with pleasure and intrigue. No one told me or even encouraged me to get close to the biggest and strongest guys in the high school. It was just something I did because I knew on an instinctive level that it would offer me safety. It also gave me a chance to participate vicariously in a dramatic game that I would never play except virtually and on an informal basis. Plus, I developed many lifelong friendships.
Over the years I have watched other people do similar things in their environments. It is as if most of us have a feel for what will work in our lives. The difference between those who succeed and those who do not, I think, is a willingness to trust themselves and take a risk that they might be right. When that does not happen, individuals often become alienated from themselves and from others.
Chapter 19 Looking for Athletic Support
When I was growing up, user-friendly big box athletic equipment stores were rare. If you needed balls, bats, clubs, gloves, or other sporting paraphernalia, you got them at a department store, such as Sears. My first tennis racket, a Poncho Gonzales special, was bought at Rich’s, the largest department store in Atlanta. Yet although there were many outlets for basic athletic equipment, buying the supportive gear to go with these items was not easy.
At age 14, I realized I needed an athletic supporter, informally known as a “jockstrap.” The only place to buy one in Decatur was at a drugstore. However, much to my dismay, you could not just go and pick the support you needed off a shelf because this specialty item was kept in a glass case behind the counter in the pharmacy section. You had to interact with a live person and ask for what you wanted, including the make and size. Sometimes there were women salespersons at the counter. Asking them for a jockstrap was something I felt uncomfortable doing even though I had completed “Sex at Church” and there was nothing immoral, lewd, or embarrassing about my request.
Given the situation, I suffered. I did not think my need was one I could bring up in casual conversation with classmates, like “Hey, Bob, I need a jockstrap. Got any good ideas
