Letters to my Stepdaughter

Back in November of 2012 I decided I wanted my step daughter get to know a little bit about me.  So, I wrote her a series letters on line.  Here is the first one.

It's time -- at least I think it is -- for you to get to know the one you call "step dad" – and I think I've heard you call me Pops once or twice.  Am I remembering correctly?  My daughters call me Pops.  My oldest daughter calls me Pops the Bops.  I guess because it rhymes.  But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

 I was born a long way from here in a lovely town in a valley next to the mountains in Idaho.  Idaho, the Southern part of Idaho in particular, was the real world to me. Most other places must have been weird, or just something that might be interesting to learn about. I mostly remember playing outside whenever I could. We played tag, army, cowboys and Indians, rode tricycles -- and then bikes --played hide and seek, built roads in the dirt piles, rang door bells and ran away, built forts, stole green apples off neighbors’ trees, played in the ditch, played in the sand box, swung on the swings, made a mixture we called "chop suey" and poured it on ant piles, caught honey bees, and, most importantly, played baseball.  That was the most serious part. Baseball was serious business and man did I have a temper if things went wrong.

  I was always the cute, red-headed kid and I hated it.  Now, being cute had its advantages because I could get away with a lot of stuff. But I could have done without the freckles.  Actually, I hated them. I only knew 3 or 4 people when I was growing up who had as many freckles as I. I was also a chronic bed wetter, and that was really embarrassing. I was about 13 or 14 before that came to an end. As you can imagine I never went on sleepovers. I guess everyone grows up with the fear that others are going to discover their "weird stuff".  If we really saw ourselves as we really are, we'd have more weird stuff than we think. I think I was normal wishing I could trade my weird stuff for somebody else's.  It would be much later in my life that I would discover -- no, God would reveal to me -- that we are all sinners who, as scripture says, "fall short of the Glory of God".  So in once sense I was no worse than anyone else when it came right down to it.  But that understanding came later.

 My family life was what probably would have been called the ideal American family.  Of course, there is really no such thing.  It was a pretty functional family. My parents just celebrated their 67th wedding anniversary. My Mom will be 90 in three months if the Lord gives her more days.  My 1st wife referred to my parents as Ward and June Cleaver.  But we were just a family. We kids fought like cats and dogs, and then we would turn around and protect and support each other.  I didn't realize at the time that divorce would become common place. I would never have thought that I and my two brothers and my sister would all end up with divorces.  But it happened.  But back then it wasn't an issue. 

  But Junior high was an issue. Yikes.  The seventh grade and I'm in a school with 9th graders, some of whom looked like adults. I hated the 7th and 8th grades, but life seemed to get better in the 9th grade.  Why?  Well, I'll have to tell you tomorrow 'cause I've done reached my writing limit for the evening.  I hope you've gotten some pleasure out of learning a little bit more about Step Dad.  If time cooperates with opportunity, I’ll write you some more tomorrow.  Meanwhile, I pray for God’s blessing in your life.

Missing May. 1963

Wait.  May 1963 was 50 years ago?  Really?

"Happiness is nothing more than having a poor memory. If you can't remember what happened yesterday, you feel pretty good today.” Lou Holtz

Maybe that is why I pick out certain “growing up” years and think of them as my favorites.  More than likely, I only remember the positive highlights and my mind has blocked out any and all misery.  Nevertheless, I’m sticking by my claim that 1963 was a pleasant year to remember.

I remember getting together with Grandpa and Grandma Barbour on January 1.  It was a something we did often on New Year’s Day; at least, that’s the way I remember it.  We would watch the bowl games, and my grandpa would say, “Do you want to bet 10?”  That meant ten cents, and he always paid up if he lost and never demanded I pay up if I lost. The big game that year was #1 Southern California vs. #2 Wisconsin, the first time #1 had met #2 in the Rose Bowl.  USC pulled out a 42-37 win.

I began to pay more attention to rock and roll music in 1963, which was a good time to do that, since 1963-1966 were the 'heart and soul' years of the greatest music decade ever.  Of course, not all rock and roll was really rock and roll, if you know what I mean.  Some of the best that year included 'girl group' songs like "He's So Fine" and "My Boy Friend's Back"; a Japanese singer Kyu Sakamoto reached number one 6 months before the Beatles with "Sukiyaki"; the Beach Boys released "Surfer Girl", and Leslie Gore had back to back hits in the summer with "It's My Party" and "Judy's Turn to Cry".  The biggest single of the year was "Sugar Shack" by Jimmy Gilmer and the Fireballs.

I received one of those five-year diaries (does anybody remember those?) for Christmas , I think in 1961.  I wrote it in it sporadically, but I did record a few things of importance in February of 1963.  I received a note from a girl telling me she loved me.  Don’t ask me if I ever got another one.  And I wrote that I scored 6 points in a sixth grade basketball game.  That may not seem like much, but the scores of our games were usually something like 20-16, so I felt pretty high and mighty after that one.  We had a good team at Jackson.  Rick Clemons was our star player.  There used to be a tournament for all the 6^th grade teams, and we only lost one game in the tournament.

Movies usually came to the theaters in Boise a year later than the rest of the world.  So, often when the academy awards were given out, nobody around here had even seen the pictures yet.  I wrote in my diary that I went to see "To Kill a Mockingbird" in the summer of 1963 with my friend Jeff Shoun.  What I didn't write down was that I had to choke back tears when Tom Robinson was found guilty by the jury.  I was so convinced that Atticus Finch had convinced them that Tom was innocent.  I read the book that summer -- probably the ONLY book that I read that summer -- and I discovered something that stuck with me.  A good novel is always better than the movie.  I later read it with my English classes when I taught, and it is my favorite novel.

One of the reasons I looked forward to May was baseball. Our team, Sherm Perry Furniture, had a good summer in 1963.  We finished second to Idaho Sporting Goods, who had a lot of players who wound up at Bishop Kelly.  I can’t forget our Infield:  first base, Jeff Shoun; second base, Tony Wallace, I played shortstop; and Kenny Worley played third base.  Gary Hatch was our catcher, and sometimes Frank Woodall.  Larry Szurgot and Gary Padgett did most of the pitching.  I know Steve Rodda played in the outfield.  It was my favorite year of playing what was my favorite sport, until football took over in junior high.

If you played in band in Boise public schools during the early 1960s, your music book looked like this.

Do you remember the Elementary Music Festival?  I played a duet in 1963 with my friend and neighbor John Killebrew.  We played a duet and got a “1” rating.

Coach Troxel, who seemed god-like to those of us in the sixth grade, brought some of the Borah track athletes to Jackson School to show off their track skills. One of them was Dave Severn, who won the 100 yard dash at the state meet.  Baseball was my first love of any sport, but I eventually gave it up and began running track.  The first state track meet I remember attending was in 1963.  Borah won its third straight state track championship under Coach Troxel, and it would be his last track championship.  The Lions would be runners up his final two years.  I remember watching Ron Imel win the 120 yard high hurdles, and I thought I wanted to be a hurdler some day.  Uh.... no.  It was the first state track meet I attended, and it would be over 30 years before I would miss one.

The teachers at Jackson Elementary put together a school newspaper.  This is the issue that we received on the last of school in 1963.

If you can’t read this, there is nothing wrong with you.  Why I saved this I don’t know, but this is what I decided to write down what happened on the last day of school that year.

Do you remember the physical fitness tests we took in the spring and the fall?  This is mine from May of 1963.  I hated pull ups.

There was more to come in 1963.  But that will be another day.