Ft
Rucker AL had an amazing Elementary School. It was a large 1st-6th
grade school, built in 1963, modern for its time. I attended 5th and 6th
grade in the years 1966-1968. Unbeknown to me at the time, a little brunette 2nd grader, a few wings
and a lifetime away from me, would say 'I do' in 1978 and become my life
time partner.
The thing that was so unique about Ft. Rucker Elementary was that it served all children living on Post; there was no segregation in my school, a political football for the ‘outside’ world (not just in the Deep South, mind you) but not on Ft. Rucker Elementary. My dad told me one time that we see people in O.D. (Olive Drab) Green.
Cedric Nakajo was one of my best buddies in Mrs. Crawford’s 5th grade class. His dad, Nick Nakajo and my dad were both Majors at the time and were also good friends. In recent years, my dad told me that Major Nakajo came from a very wealthy California family. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, a young Nick and his family were all sent to a Japanese Internment Camp. They lost everything: Property, investments, business. Think about that. It didn’t matter to Nick Nakajo. He joined the U.S. Army, about the time my dad did in the early 50’s.
Cedric was this whiz kid. Smart as a whip. He could perform mathematical problems in his head. Nobody could beat him when Mrs. Crawford did ‘one-on- one’ 3 digit multiplication contests on the board. (Yes, we actually competed back then; there was a winner and a loser.) I must say, Mrs. Crawford was a 5th grade boy’s dream. Recent college graduate, great 60’s dresses, bouffant hair, and she loved me. I could tell.
Enter Faith Ann Farmer, middle of the school year. This was far from unusual at an Army Post school, coming and going was a way of life. But it was unusual for THIS boy. She was the ‘little red haired girl’ that Charlie Brown dreamed about. I was instantly in love, but that was admitted to nobody, ever. I cannot tell you how many times I rode my trusty Schwinn by her house hoping I could catch a glimpse of that Irish red hair and freckled face...even then I would have probably been too chicken to stop.
One day, Mrs. Crawford had Faith Ann and Cedric compete against each other, one of those really difficult problems---347 X 42 or something like that. Mrs. Crawford said ‘GO!’ and the chalk started clacking on that well-worn blackboard. Faith Ann flew through that problem like she knew the answer before they started and beat Cedric by a country mile. I hollered out with great gusto, “SHE BEAT YOU SO BAD CEDRIC!! Hahahaha!”
It was meant to be an awkward compliment to this new little red haired girl. Then I looked at my good friend Cedric. His head was down and he had tears in his eyes. Mrs. Crawford, while a recent college graduate, had the ability to size up this situation, looked at me with eyes lit like a bonfire, and asked, “Would you like to come up here and challenge Faith Ann?” I shook my head and lowered it in shame.
The things I look back on in my life that I consider real ‘sins’ are the things that haunt me…and they aren’t these dumb, human foibles that so many Southerners consider sins like getting drunk on Saturday night and embarrassing MamaNdem. If that is your barometer of whether St Peter is gong to let you in, the you might want to ponder the scriptures a bit more. There is is a higher spirituality than this. The things that haunt me are those incidents where I intentionally hurt someone. Cedric, crying with his head down, stays with me. In a way, I’m glad it stays with me. I’m glad it haunts me.
I told Cedric I was sorry at recess. He asked if I wanted to play dodge ball. Faith Ann and I parted ways in the 6th Grade. We were only together in my mind anyway. Interestingly, I saw her cheer-leading a couple years later in Leavenworth, Kansas. She was a cheerleader for the Ft. Leavenworth Jr. High basketball team and I was a student at East Jr. High in the town of Leavenworth. I saw her after the game in an intimate conversation with one of the boys on the Ft. Leavenworth team. It was over.
The thing that was so unique about Ft. Rucker Elementary was that it served all children living on Post; there was no segregation in my school, a political football for the ‘outside’ world (not just in the Deep South, mind you) but not on Ft. Rucker Elementary. My dad told me one time that we see people in O.D. (Olive Drab) Green.
Cedric Nakajo was one of my best buddies in Mrs. Crawford’s 5th grade class. His dad, Nick Nakajo and my dad were both Majors at the time and were also good friends. In recent years, my dad told me that Major Nakajo came from a very wealthy California family. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, a young Nick and his family were all sent to a Japanese Internment Camp. They lost everything: Property, investments, business. Think about that. It didn’t matter to Nick Nakajo. He joined the U.S. Army, about the time my dad did in the early 50’s.
Cedric was this whiz kid. Smart as a whip. He could perform mathematical problems in his head. Nobody could beat him when Mrs. Crawford did ‘one-on- one’ 3 digit multiplication contests on the board. (Yes, we actually competed back then; there was a winner and a loser.) I must say, Mrs. Crawford was a 5th grade boy’s dream. Recent college graduate, great 60’s dresses, bouffant hair, and she loved me. I could tell.
Enter Faith Ann Farmer, middle of the school year. This was far from unusual at an Army Post school, coming and going was a way of life. But it was unusual for THIS boy. She was the ‘little red haired girl’ that Charlie Brown dreamed about. I was instantly in love, but that was admitted to nobody, ever. I cannot tell you how many times I rode my trusty Schwinn by her house hoping I could catch a glimpse of that Irish red hair and freckled face...even then I would have probably been too chicken to stop.
One day, Mrs. Crawford had Faith Ann and Cedric compete against each other, one of those really difficult problems---347 X 42 or something like that. Mrs. Crawford said ‘GO!’ and the chalk started clacking on that well-worn blackboard. Faith Ann flew through that problem like she knew the answer before they started and beat Cedric by a country mile. I hollered out with great gusto, “SHE BEAT YOU SO BAD CEDRIC!! Hahahaha!”
It was meant to be an awkward compliment to this new little red haired girl. Then I looked at my good friend Cedric. His head was down and he had tears in his eyes. Mrs. Crawford, while a recent college graduate, had the ability to size up this situation, looked at me with eyes lit like a bonfire, and asked, “Would you like to come up here and challenge Faith Ann?” I shook my head and lowered it in shame.
The things I look back on in my life that I consider real ‘sins’ are the things that haunt me…and they aren’t these dumb, human foibles that so many Southerners consider sins like getting drunk on Saturday night and embarrassing MamaNdem. If that is your barometer of whether St Peter is gong to let you in, the you might want to ponder the scriptures a bit more. There is is a higher spirituality than this. The things that haunt me are those incidents where I intentionally hurt someone. Cedric, crying with his head down, stays with me. In a way, I’m glad it stays with me. I’m glad it haunts me.
I told Cedric I was sorry at recess. He asked if I wanted to play dodge ball. Faith Ann and I parted ways in the 6th Grade. We were only together in my mind anyway. Interestingly, I saw her cheer-leading a couple years later in Leavenworth, Kansas. She was a cheerleader for the Ft. Leavenworth Jr. High basketball team and I was a student at East Jr. High in the town of Leavenworth. I saw her after the game in an intimate conversation with one of the boys on the Ft. Leavenworth team. It was over.
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