Yesterday's blog about Jake's engineering class demonstration was the catalyst for memories resurrected from my 6th, 7th, and 8th-grade years. I guess you could say I left elementary school with a bang. It was during Boy Scout week in February 1958. I will never forget the details of that day. I suspect that is true of other classmates as well.
I had worn my new scout uniform to school. During that phase of our lives, Ronnie and I wore matching clothes every day. Our mother ensured that we were a matched pair, like a set of bookends, when we went anywhere. Our classmate and friend, Mike was also a Boy Scout. He had worn his scout uniform as well.
I can say with certainty that nothing was salvageable from those uniforms before the school bell rang. I never wore my uniform again, and I can say with certainty, the same was true for Ronnie and Mike. None of us were still at school when the school bell rang signaling the end of the day. We warranted an excused absence for the portion of the day that we missed.
We were a group of three, scheduled to do a science experiment for the class. I honestly have no memory of what we had intended to demonstrate. We got side-tracked with the discovery of what looked similar to the shape of a tube of lipstick with long red and yellow wires coming out of one end.
We were bright sixth graders. Don't agree with me too quickly. As it turned out, we weren't all that smart. We thought we had discovered an electromagnet. Truth be told, I'm soon to be 76 years old, and I have no idea how I would ever use an electromagnet.
The explosion came as a shock to the entire classroom. I remember the look on Mr. Mann's face. He was our teacher. He held one hand in front of his open mouth, and he was as white as a ghost.
I thought the dry-cell battery exploded. I had no idea at the time that we were playing with dynamite. I will never forget the experience.
For starters, I had never been in an ambulance before. I remember thinking: "My parents are going to kill me." Back in those days, an ambulance ride was a "fletch and tote" (oops, I meant transport) experience. There was no medical personnel with the ambulance. Interestingly back in those days, funeral homes routinely provided the ambulance service for the community. If that doesn't fall into the category of vested interest, then one doesn't exist. By the way, Ronnie and Mike rode in the back of the ambulance. I rode shotgun in the passenger seat in front of the ambulance.
During my 7th grade year, I took wood-shop as an elective at school. It was a class I really enjoyed. Some of the things I made are still around. In the seventh grade, my friend Wayne gave me one of his landscape paintings. I made the frame for it and the painting will hang in our home again as soon as we move. It has been a keepsake for the time I received it.
I made a pipe and tobacco holder for my dad. After he was gone, I carved out a place for it with some of his pipes on a bookcase in our home. Every time I see it, it serves as a trigger to his memory.
I made a recipe box for my mother. She used the recipe box the remainder of her life. Following her death, the recipe box came back to me. I subsequently gave it to my daughter. I telephoned her last night and asked that she take a picture of it for my blog today.
During the 8th grade, I took metal shop as an elective. All I remember from that experience is that I burned my eyes welding. My coordination of getting the helmet down over my face was not as quick as it needed to be. Of course, I was smart enough not to do that again. The same is true of playing with dynamite.
What about you? How long has it been since you stopped to reflect on your 6th, 7th, and 8th-grade experiences? I encourage you to stop and write down at least one memory from those three consecutive years. If you don't relive those moments, they are forever gone.
All My Best!
Don
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