I went to Thomas Edison Elementary School in Morton Grove, Kindergarten through 7th grade. I must have had bad feet when I was little, because my mother made me wear black and white “saddle shoes” which I hated, and all the other kids would make fun of. In those days, the girls had to wear skirts or dresses to school -- never slacks. In fact, it wasn’t until I was a freshman in high school that they changed that dress code and began allowing the girls to wear pants to school.
A teacher I remember at this school was Mr. Johnson, who my brothers and I all had for 5th grade. His breath always smelled of coffee, he wore a crew cut (which my brothers always had to wear also), and he had this weird enjoyment of making me write definitions out of the dictionary like “run,” when I was caught talking or something equally annoying to him. Unwittingly, I would actually write the whole definition out of the dictionary (not realizing he couldn’t possibly be checking it), as it is a really long definition -- and I would make sure I would get every comma, semi-colon and period correct. How ridiculous. That never did stop me from talking when I wasn’t supposed to.
Mrs. Stephens, my third grade teacher, used to tape our mouths shut with masking tape, when we were caught talking or laughing. Sometimes, she would pass us by at our desks and spray us with water, or slap our hands with a ruler. I remember vividly being in her class when the principal made an announcement over the loudspeaker that someone had just shot President John F. Kennedy. Mrs. Stephens began to cry and we all just sat there feeling numb and not knowing what to do. The school then sent everyone home early that day, and when I got home, the news of the assassination was on television, with actual footage of the president being shot.
It seemed that the whole country was in a state of shock. I remember seeing on television, Lee Harvey Oswald, who was the accused assassin, being whisked through a group of officers and FBI personnel, and all of a sudden Jack Ruby reached out in front of everyone and shot and killed Oswald. It was so strange that it was actually captured on television. Of course Ruby was then apprehended, but I don’t recall what happened to him after that. It was like total bedlam. It seemed like the whole country stopped what they were doing for this, and the tremendous funeral which would follow. I remember trying not to cry, watching the president’s son, John, a little boy, standing on the steps of the White House, waving good-bye to his father as the hearse drove slowly in the procession. It was very sad.
Soon after that, Martin Luther King, Jr. was murdered and I remember my dad telling my mother something about the fact that “the blacks” will be in an uproar because of it -- and sure enough, riots broke out all over the United States because of his murder. It was a time of racial tension anyway, but that just added fuel to the fire. I remember feeling very angry and not understanding why a man would kill another man because of the color of his skin. I never have figured that out, except to reason that people are basically evil, without the power of the Holy Ghost in their lives, anything is possible.
Looking back on it now, it seemed that hell let loose all its demon spirits to cause havoc on an already confused world. The war in Vietnam was very ugly -- “hippies” protested against it and the servicemen who fought there felt like they had to defend themselves as well as their country. It was soon after that, that Robert Kennedy was also murdered, and again the country went into shock -- three famous people being murdered during the space of a short period of time. The 1960’s and 70’s were a strange, turbulent time. Rebellion and drugs were promoted and “the establishment” was scorned. My brother Richard was drafted during that time, but never did have to go to Vietnam, which I’m sure he was thankful for. Night after night, on the evening news, graphic footage of the war was televised, forcing a portion of this tragedy directly into our living rooms. No matter what one’s views were about the war, it was clear that countless human beings were tortured, suffered and died as a result. If there was a positive resolution for the meaning of this war, I have yet to hear what it was.....
Despite the fact we owned a television, my mother did not allow us to watch it very often. She referred to it as “the box” and would only let us watch certain programs at certain times. I remember when I desperately wanted to watch the television premier of “The Wizard of Oz,” (even though the witch scared me to death and I always closed my eyes when she appeared on the screen), but that same evening, Ed Sullivan was to have the "Beatles," a new singing group from England, on his show, and my mother insisted on watching them! I was so disgusted. As we sat there and watched them, all I could think of was “big deal.” They didn’t do a thing for me at the time, but that’s probably because I was such a “tomboy.” No doubt my father made snide comments about them, as I’m sure to him they looked like “sissies.” Any boy with hair longer than an inch was too feminine for him! Young women were actually screaming and crying in the studio audience, reaching out to touch these guys! It wasn’t until a few years later that I understood the reason for all that, although rock stars never had that same affect on me...
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