The year was 1963. I was seven years of age. My class mates and I were playing soccer on the middle school football field during recess. There was boy in our class named Leonard. Leonard looked a lot older than the rest of us. Fact is, he was older. He was held back a couple of years in third grade.
Leonard was not a nice guy. He loved to kick the soccer ball at his fellow students. Leonard lost his right leg in some kind of accident. He had to be fitted with an artificial leg. Prosthetic legs were primitive in the sixties. His was made of medal and wood. If he kicked you, it hurt for days. Leonard’s leg gave him an advantage on the soccer field. Most of us stayed out of the way when we saw Leonard coming with the ball. He made a lot of goals as a result. A few times Leonard kicked the ball so hard that his artificial leg went flying in the air. His leg could be a lethal weapon. I tried to make Leonard my friend, but Leonard liked to kick his friends. I did not care for that kind of friendship.
One cloudy day while we were playing, our teacher started ringing her hand bell. She was standing at the top of the bleachers with a worried look on her face. Recess was not over. We all wondered what was happening? All the students gathered on the coal cinder track at the bottom of the bleachers. Our teacher was wiping tears when she said, “President Kennedy has been shot!” It really put a damper on our day. After recess, we watched television in home room..
Walter Cronkite gave us up to the minute reports of President Kennedy’s condition. I arrived home in the early evening to hear that President Kennedy was dead. We all had an insecure feeling about our country. The Cuban Missile Crisis taught us we were vulnerable to attack. President Johnson assured us he had everything under control. It seemed for a few hours that everything was out of control.
The same week Kennedy was assassinated, my dad bought an Admiral console stereo. Stereo was something new and we were excited. When we turned it on, it took about a minute for the tubes to get hot. The first record he bought was a record of the original Blackwood Brothers quartet. We played the record over and over on our new stereo.
In the late 60’s we visited our neighbors home. He had a color television in his living room. “Get Smart,” was playing and I was mesmerized by the color and clarity of the television. Soon my dad bought our first color t.v. I enjoyed watching Batman and the Monkeys in color daily.
My dad worked at the Whirlpool plant in Evansville, Indiana. He helped assemble refrigerators. He awakened at 5:30 every morning and came home about 4:00 pm. He did not like his job, but he was faithful making a living for us. Dad worked seventeen years at Whirlpool.
We didn’t have a lot of money for entertainment, but we sure had a lot of fun in the summer. Every Saturday mom and dad purchased a newspaper and looked for local auctions in our area. It was exciting. We attended the auction and spent the whole day. My dad was friends with Charlie the auctioneer. He gave my dad inside information about the good stuff to be auctioned. I played under a shade tree with my friends while dad and mom bid on items. Dad very rarely bought new tools. He could buy them cheaper at the auction.
Our family loved to camp and fish. Dad bought an old army tent and we camped on the banks of the Ohio river. We caught catfish and perch. Sometimes we caught a big Alligator Gar. Gars are long and slender. They have sharp teeth like an alligator. My uncles and aunts often joined us when fishing. We lined up on the banks of the Ohio and fished with worms dug the previous day.
In the fall and winter dad and mom bowled for a church bowling league. The bowling alley was called “Lincoln Lanes.” I guess they chose the name because Lincoln’s boyhood home was not far from our town. I looked forward to Saturday nights at the bowling alley. Me and my friends entertained ourselves and drove the manager crazy. We discovered a fun activity in the parking lot of Lincoln Lanes. There were several street lights in the parking lot. When the lights came on, the bugs started flying around. The bugs attracted bats. One of the boys got a brilliant idea. He put a rock inside of a handkerchief and tied it security. When a bat flew past he threw the handkerchief high in the air. The bat (thinking it was a bug) grabbed it and carried it a short distance. We laughed and made a game out of it. The next Saturday night all the boys brought rocks and handkerchiefs.
Christmas in the 1960’s was magical. Every year my family went to the Boonville town square to by a real scotch pine tree. Colored Christmas lights streamed down from the top of our court house. The Christmas tree merchant had lights on clothesline wire. The wire was held up by two by fours. It was constructed in the form of a square around the trees. The trees leaned up against a lower wire on three sides. There was one front entrance for the customers. When we entered the Christmas tree vendor, Christmas music was playing. It set the mood for the season. Dad and mom chose a Scotch Pine at least six feet tall. Dad loaded it in the back of his Rambler Station Wagon. We could hardly wait to get home and decorate with bubble lights, traditional colored bulbs, icicles and ornaments.
When Christmas Eve came I was excited. It was hard to sleep with Santa on his way. Snow was in the forcast. When my dad and mom awakened early on Christmas morning it was a white Christmas. A fresh powder-like snow covered the ground. My dad wanted me to believe in Santa and his Reindeer. Dad was a “hands on,” creative person. He killed a deer the year before. The antlers and front feet were mounted on a trophy board. Dad removed the deer legs from the trophy board. He carefully took the hoofs of the deer and made tracks in the snow. The tracks appeared to lead up to our porch. When I awakened, I was excited. I ran into the living room to see what Santa had left.
Before I could open the first gift my dad said, “Before you start opening your gifts I want you to see something.” He led me to our back porch and opened the door. He pointed to the deer tracks in the snow. He chuckled and said, “Look son, Santa came last night. There are the tracks of his reindeer. I jumped up and down with excitement. When I turned to go back to my gifts, he showed me a glass of milk that was half full and a sugar cookie. It was evident Santa drank the milk and took a bite out of the cookie. He was in such a hurry he could not finish all of it. After all, thousands of children were depending on him.
There are many memories from the 1960’s that we did not photograph or film with an 8 milometer. I am glad God gave we humans a memory. It is a wonderful thing to be able to push a memory button on command and replay something from our past. If you lived in the 1960’s, try pushing your own memory button some time. You may delighted with the things you have forgotten about a wonderful decade in time.