My Seventeenth Summer

The summer of 1959 began with my graduation from Farragut High School, one of 53.  I had many memorable events to enjoy, among them presenting a solo piano recital in May, and receiving many good wishes and in that day many graduation gifts.  The church members were very generous.  The money gifts were placed on savings in the bank to help with my first year of college at University of Chattanooga.  In that year my brother Jim was twelve and ready for seventh grade. 

To make graduation from Farragut possible, my dad was given special consideration by the church to stay an extra year as pastor of Concord UM Church.  The huge down side is at the annual conference in June my dad was caught in a situation of being assigned a new pastorate where the present minister refused to move.  That meant that we had nowhere to go.  The bishop and district superintendent needed to place my dad, so we were sent to a village just over the Virginia border at the same salary my dad had been getting.  At that time it was customary for pastors to receive a raise when they moved. 

My dad, being the modest person he was and trying never to cause a problem, delayed questioning his appointment until the last day of conference when the bishop was tired and had no patience left for my dad's dilemma.  The shock and disappointment of his treatment by the bishop had long-lasting effects for our dad's health.  It would have never occurred to him to refuse an appointment.

We did make the move in late June.  The church parsonage was in such poor shape, having been occupied by a clergy and his family who were not at all good housekeepers, we spent a week in a boarding house up the street while the house was cleaned and painted inside.

I was not unhappy that we were moving to a new place.  My high school years were not the happiest years of my life.  I can count on one hand the dates I had, and I felt very much out of the loop with the "in crowd". 

That first Sunday when we crossed the street to attend church as the new pastor's family I remember deciding I was going to pretend to be as I wanted to be, accepted and attractive (to boys).  My mom and I wore dresses she had made complete with hat and gloves, as was the custom in that day. 

That very afternoon a tall good-looking boy from the MYF invited me to go to the pool!  I could hardly believe it.  It turned out that the pool was fed by the area mountain stream and was cold as ice.  I don't think we ever went in the water, just drank a coke together. 

That was just the beginning.  Our phone was rung by a number of young men from the area, and I was totally amazed and remember the excitement of wondering who was calling each time the phone rang.  After a few weeks our next door neighbor Sam LeGarde called more often than the others, so we began dating.  We would drive the 13 miles to Abingdon and then 11 more to Bristol for movies, sometimes heading for the outdoor drive-in.  My parents seemed to be okay with it and trusted Sam, being that he and his momma lived next door.

When Sam and I weren't dating I was included with a group of girls who drove to Abingdon every night to the area teen gathering place, a drive-in restaurant that sold sandwiches, grilled honey buns, and cokes.  We hardly ever bought anything besides a coke, and I was expected to take my turn at driving, using our family car.

My brother Jim made new friends and enjoyed camping out and fishing, as I remember. 

Our mom set about making our new home as attractive as possible.  I remember there was a tool house behind the house that had various discarded pieces of household furniture and cookery left by previous pastor families.  She resurrected two iron beds, painted them, and bought mattresses for my room and my brother's room.  A cook pot she found in the same shed became one of her favorites.  That fall she opened the parsonage to the church members who were so pleased with the remodeling she had achieved on a shoestring.

My dad managed very well through that summer with his new appointment.  In September it was time for another adjustment for me.  I was taken to Chattanoooga, TN to begin college. 

My boyfriend Sam begged me not to go, urging me to attend the nearby college in Virginia.  But all was set with varous scholarships and I was ready for new challenges.  Our romance gradually faded with Sam making one trip down to Chattanooga to see me.  He stayed in Virginia and eventually married to have three sons. 

Over the years I have returned to that village, Damascus, VA, remembering the fun and excitement of that seventeenth summer.  Damascus now is a popular overnight stay for hikers on the Appalachian Trail and tourists visiting the area.

 

  

Squirting fresh milk for the cats, as the band pla...
On My Own….
 

Comments 2

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Tom Cormier (website) on Monday, 11 July 2011 12:56

Nice story Pat and even more well written. I enjoyed every word. Honey buns??? I never made it into the "in crowd" either in the traditional way. But at least you had a stream of calls coming your way.

Nice story Pat and even more well written. I enjoyed every word. Honey buns??? I never made it into the "in crowd" either in the traditional way. But at least you had a stream of calls coming your way.
Millard Don Carriker (website) on Thursday, 14 July 2011 01:41

A "PK," huh. That must have been a somewhat stressful life - I was a teacher when our kids were little. The standing order to them was: "Don't you dare do anything embarrassing." They were pretty good about it. Later they said it was like living in a fishbowl. (In my day teachers were expected to be role models and paragons in the community.) I'd think being a "PK" would be even a tougher role. It was a nice look at how life was in a fairly unusual situation.

A "PK," huh. That must have been a somewhat stressful life - I was a teacher when our kids were little. The standing order to them was: "Don't you dare do anything embarrassing." They were pretty good about it. Later they said it was like living in a fishbowl. (In my day teachers were expected to be role models and paragons in the community.) I'd think being a "PK" would be even a tougher role. It was a nice look at how life was in a fairly unusual situation.