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

Basketball Is Serious Business

Just to illustrate how serious basketball is taken in Indiana, the following incident happened to my team in the seventh grade.

I attended a very small school in Napoleon Indiana. Typical of the several schools in the area, my seventh-grade class consisted of about thirty-five students.

As was the case in Indiana, the team from the neighboring town was always your fiercest rival, you would sooner cut off an arm than losing to those guys. Losing meant extreme humiliation until you could seek vengeance the following time you played each other.

Our rivals were the school in Osgood, which was only five miles away; their school was not as large a school as we were the seventh-grade class probably only had about twelve students. Almost every boy in the class played on the basketball team.

For the rest of the story.

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

Useful Information

A snippet from my new book,”It’s Gotta Be the Shorts.

 

One of the most useful pieces of information, especially if they live in a rural area, is to discover what kind of car they drive along with a portion of their license plate number. Many times they will be seen in town and if you have a parcel for them, you can run them down and give it to them, thus saving a trip out in the country. This little fact saved us many hours of work over the years.

It can also have a humorous and embarrassing outcome. One day I happened to have a parcel for Bill. It was common knowledge he was married but had a girlfriend. It was one of those things that was common knowledge, but was only mentioned in a small circle of friends.

I suppose they thought they were getting away with something and nobody knew, far from the truth.

On this particular day, I happened to see Bill’s car parked at his girlfriend’s house. It had been a quiet day and not much fun. It was time to change that.

I stopped at the girlfriend’s house and asked if Bill was there, I had a package for him.

She had the strangest look on her face; about that time Bill came to the door and wanted to know how I knew he was there.

I mean his car was parked in the driveway. It’s not rocket science. Somehow the incident spread all over town and led for a week of excitement.

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

 

Basketball: A Religion

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.

Our other religion was basketball, the citizens of the Hoosier State have always been known for their love of the game, especially at the high school level.

In those days, and even today to some degree, there were a lot of really small schools. Many high schools only had enough boys to support a basketball team. Finding nine or eleven boys for baseball or football was out of the question and financially, the cost of supporting a basketball team was a lot less than one of the other major sports.

The varsity team would occasionally get new uniforms. The old uniforms would filter down to the underclassmen, with the seventh graders wearing uniforms that were probably twenty years old.

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