Starting High School in the Fifties

 

Entering high school in 1958, we couldn’t wait for the first day of school. There was a Catholic school about ten miles from Napoleon and since they didn’t have a high school in the tiny town of Millhousen, their kids always transferred to our school.

We only had about thirty-five kids in our class and not many people ever moved in or out of our community, so it was always nice to meet new kids when they came to our school.

We had heard through the grapevine that there were about ten kids in their class of freshman, and the town was noted for having cute girls, so obviously, we couldn’t wait to see who they were. We waited for the bus from Millhousen to pull up in front of the school.

We weren’t disappointed, the girls were really cute.

We already many cute girls in our class, but it doesn’t hurt to add to the herd.

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

Advertisements

Visiting Friends And Family

In those days, we would visit friends and relatives on the weekends. Saturday night always saw either us getting together with friends, at their house or ours. The parents would have a couple of beers and play cards all night while us kids played in another room or outside if the weather permitted.

If we couldn’t find anything else to do, we would go shopping on Saturday night.

A big night would mean we drove all the way to Batesville, shopped and stopped at grandma and grandpa Wonnings on the way home. It would often be nine o’clock before we got there so the evening could run late.

Before anyone would realize it, grandma would be stirring in the kitchen, frying a chicken and all the fixins, it would many times be midnight before we ate.

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

It Was Different Then

It was a lot different in those days, the schools we played were all small, some extremely small.

Most didn’t have dressing rooms or showers, and if they did, the shower room was always cold, damp, and dingy, with no hot water. Most of the time we dressed in a classroom where maybe there were blinds to pull for a little privacy, maybe not.

The seventh graders practiced during lunch hour while the other students were sitting along the sidelines eating their lunch. It wasn’t uncommon for a loose ball to wind up in someone’s chili. After too many complained, that practice was abandoned and we began practicing after school like everyone else.

The gymnasiums were small and the out of bounds line was normally against the wall, at least on one side. Sometimes the balcony stood out over the floor so there were parts of the floor where you couldn’t shoot without hitting the upper floor.

Many gymnasiums had no room behind the goal, and often times the hot water pipes used for heating the building ran along the wall behind the goals. Leg burns were common and when going in for a lay-up, there was always the danger of running into the wall; often times head first resulting in a bloody knot on the head.

After a game, we would go out into a cold winter evening still dripping wet with sweat, and no one ever  got sick.

If we won the game, it was coach’s treat at Napoleon Tavern, cheeseburgers, French fries and a milkshake.

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

Gun Control and the Militia

 

An excerpt from my book, “The Wisdom of our Ancestors”

photo of a distinguished older gentleman

Gun Control

A well-regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a Free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed upon.

Unlike in most other countries, our right to keep and bear arms is guaranteed in our constitution. Regardless of what some might think or say, it is an individual right, not a right given to some state or federal military force.

During the time in which our constitution and other founding documents were written, the militia consisted of citizens, not a government police force.

All physically able men, over the age of twenty-one, were automatically enlisted in the militia, it was a citizen police force whose purpose was to protect the rights and lives of the individual against all and every foe, government or otherwise.

The militia was paramount in deciding the fate of our nation; citizen soldiers from the southern states almost single-handedly defeated Cornwallis and drove him to his defeat at Yorktown.

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

 

Learning Respect For Guns

An excerpt from my book, those were the days, my friend

photo fo two people, a child and an adult looking at a sunset over the ocean

Life was a lot slower and simpler in the fifties and sixties.

I can’t remember when I didn’t go hunting. At first, I would go with dad or grandpa and didn’t carry a gun. My first gun was a BB gun when I was probably seven or eight. I would take it hunting, but I was harmless to all the rabbits, can’t kill much besides a sparrow with a gun of that caliber.

Next came a .22, and I was allowed to go hunting by myself, which I often did after school during rabbit hunting season. I still couldn’t get many rabbits with a 22. The only way was to find one sitting and get him before he moved.  It worked better with groundhogs and chipmunks.

There was no talk of gun control in those days. It was always assumed everyone had a gun, kind of like a right arm. Our guns were in the kitchen corner and the ammunition was in the kitchen drawer right next to the fireworks.

Our parents and grandparents reminded us at least weekly to stay away from those guns; to touch a gun without permission meant a severe punishment by not only my parents but grandparents as well. In those days we had too much respect for our elders to disobey what they said. For the most part, we obeyed.

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

Farming In Shifts

 

Written By: Gary Wonning

During the spring planting, if the rains delayed us, we would work in shifts,.

At first, we only had one tractor, so dad would start working the fields at sunup and I would do the milking, then when I was finished, I would bring a five gallon can of gas and take over while he did other chores.

We would take turns eating lunch, each bringing more gas so the tractor would run constantly until after dark, we only stopped to sleep, then do the same thing the next day until the crops were planted.

Soon we added headlights to the tractor so we could see to work after the sun went down.

 

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

 

 

Driving The Tractor On the Farm

An excerpt from my book, Those were the days, my friend.

Chapter 4: Farming the Land

I started driving a tractor at a very early age, probably about three or four.  At first, I would drive through gates so the cows wouldn’t get out.

Cattle can be on the back end of the farm and if they hear or see a tractor going through a gate, they will come running. By the time the tractor driver gets off the tractor, opens the gate, and drives through, the cattle are there and trying to get out. This leads to much disarray as the farmer then has to round them up and herd them back into the pasture; the cattle are never very cooperative.

We had a small tractor, I could barely reach the clutch, but would manage to get the tractor in gear, release the clutch and drive thru the gate, and then I would hit the gear shift with my fist, knocking the tractor out of gear, and applying the handbrake to stop when the tractor had cleared the gate.

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome