Remember When

Being a third-grader was hard enough, but with this new war, things were getting out of hand.

Our Blue Hurricane high school team members seemed to be headed for the armed forces instead of becoming college freshmen.

The president said on the radio that things would be tough before getting better.

Gosh, I just couldn’t figure out why we were studying about George Washington cutting down that cherry tree when parents way off in London were busing their children to the countryside to be cared for by unknown folks.

I made it through May, in real good shape.
Of course, I had to go over to Central School and walk around that May Pole, wrapping a strip of colored crepe paper while bunches of children from all over town stood in little huddles and sang songs nobody knew.
It might make our teachers and principals happy but it sure seemed like a waste of time to me.
Betcha if they just passed out Dixie cups of chocolate ice cream we would’ve had more fun.
It’s always amazed me how grown-ups can mess up a good thing.

I’m telling you, when I get all grown up, things are gonna change for the better around here.
The very first thing on my short list is making sure the powers that be don’t start school until summer is over. The school board folks just start and stop school when they get good and ready.
Shucks, things are just getting all organized. The grass isn’t growing so fast any longer that I have to mow every week.

From Dec. 1, 1944, to Dec. 31, 1952, my father was sheriff of Lancaster County. Times have certainly changed.
Daddy was a rather closed-mouthed individual, which worked sometimes, but caused him considerable anguish at other times.
The area media and The Lancaster News were critical because he rarely gave interviews or issued press releases on criminal cases.  
Only in his later years did he confide that it was up to magistrates and judges to determine guilt and folks shouldn’t be tried in the court of public opinion.