Very early in my life, even in grade school, my teachers influenced me more than anyone else . They all told about their college experiences, and had us feeling that we should aspire to go. I guess I did not stop to realize what it would cost; I just talked incessantly about going to college. My cousin Helen told me one day to shut up about going to college. "Your daddy is not going to let you go. Don't you know that?"

As I have related in other posts, my health was great. I worked like a man, even before I was a teenager. My grades were getting me on the honor roll, but during my first year of high school I suddenly had trouble remembering things, and my grades took a drastic slide. I worried about it so much I could not go to sleep at night. My parents said I had a "wild" look in my eyes. My teachers noticed a change in my personality. I was "giddy", almost out of control. Recently there was a child in our neighborhood who was a "crack baby". Her mother had been a drug user. Watching her behavior reminded me of how I must have appeared during the brief period.

On Saturday of the week my parents asked, "What in the world is wrong with you?" I said I had not been to sleep in three nights, and they whisked me off to the doctor. The diagnosis was hook worms, and I was confined to bed. It was a common ailment in the south where children went barefoot on soil accessible to dogs infected with the disease.

With two weeks of bed rest, raw egg milkshakes and other blood building potions to fight the anemia I was ready to go back to school. On the first day back, it appeared school was not quite ready for me. Mrs. Munn, the principal's wife and English teacher for all grades asked me to leave the room while she talked to the class. She called me back in, and gave me a book all the class had signed. It was a mystery to me. Why did I need to be out of the room for them to sign the book? The mystery became very clear that afternoon when I was riding the school bus home. A little second grader stared at me, and close to my face, whispered, " Are you still crazy?"

So, that was why Mrs. Munn wanted me out, to explain to the class how I should be treated. I was devastated! At home I cried buckets, didn't want to ever go back to that school. If I could just go to another school, start all over, I knew I could be the best student there. Luckily I fell asleep, and the next morning realized it was impossible to go to another school. I would just go back, watch every word I said to anyone, study hard, and hope they would forget my short time out of control.

None of the students ever asked me about my illness. In a college English class assigned to write a brief story about a high school experience, I wrote about it, trying to describe how I felt when there was no consolation except my faithful cat whose purr, as she slept on my stomach, quieted my fears. I got an A on the paper. Actually, I made up that part. Everyone knew Miss Davenport had several cats, and I suspected it was her soft spot, so I took advantage of it! After my experience with dogs, I wanted nothing to do with any animals, and I never went barefoot again.

The rest of my high school experience could not have been better. I was president of the senior class. I kept talking college, and in September of 1947 it really happened. There was never any question where I was going. East Carolina was only an hour's drive, but it had never occurred to us to just drive up there and look around.

I had not bought any new clothes, but I had made a couple of dresses. Everything I owned, including my blanket, fit in a small footlocker. My Aunt Ruth helped me pack. She told me later that she went home and cried, thinking of how little I had, and how I would feel around girls in the dorm. Mama and Daddy drove me up to Cotten Hall, helped me find my room. Daddy gave me a last minute warning, "If I ever hear of your being in a car with boys, you will be coming home!"

What did he mean? Didn't he know I was too homely for any boys to want to take me for a ride? I went up to my room, sat on my foot locker in the hall way, and waited for my new world.

My next blog will be about riding in a car with boys.

In the meantime, tomorrow we leave on a great adventure. Tomorrow night we will be in a hotel in New York where we will meet our three daughters, their husbands and the last child in each family. All the other grandchildren are in university and feeling very left out. It seems too perfect to be true, a dream spring break, two weeks on the Mediterranean and a few days for us down in North Carolina where they have postponed Aunt Ruth's ninetieth birthday party until we can be there.

Ciao!