School Days: Central High

From 8th grade through 10th I rode the bus (1972-1975). Kind old Mr. Cooper was our driver. I always sat in the same seat, the 4th row back. I started playing school football in 9th grade, so my dad would pick me up after practice. He would usually arrive early to watch. In the summer of 1975 I turned 16, and bought my first car for $500, from money I’d made mowing lawns and umpiring at Vine Ingle Little League. A red 1966 Ford Country Sedan station wagon. Bought it from a young couple at church. Loved that car. Drove to school after that. Parked in the teachers lot, along with my two best friends Don and Chuck. I’d drive straight to work at Baskin Robins, after school or football practice.

In 7th grade I went on my first “date” with a girl. The girl scouts had to each ask a boy to go bowling with them. Renee asked me. My first game I rolled a 22, then a 30. Later I spent time with Christy. I walked to her house once or twice. Can’t remember us ever doing much talking, or anything else. In 8th grade I passed notes with Anne. We sat next to each other at football games – until an older boy moved in and stole her away. That was the end of that. Tenth grade I spent time with Kathy. Since we couldn’t drive we would talk on the phone, and I’d go to her house on Sundays after church.

I have boxed exactly one time: in 9th grade PE Coach WC Jones put mats in one corner of the Miller Junior High gymnasium, and conducted boxing matches. Seemed like my match was two rounds. I was paired against my friend Rex Dooley, whose statue was similar to mine – tall and skinny. We wore football helmets and big boxing gloves. Neither one of use used much footwork. Neither one of us hit that hard. By the second round we were both exhausted, and were basically leaning on each other. The only difference was that while Rex was just standing there, I continued “punching” him. After the bell sounded Coach Jones came in to announce the winner. I was so tired I was barely standing up. Then I felt my arm being lifted – I was the winner. Never boxed again.

My high school was comprised of two buildings across the street from each other. Every day between periods there would be a line of students filing out of one building, through the parking lot, across the street, cutting catty corner across the football field, across another parking lot, to the other building. One day I was walking with my best friend Don. I kicked a rock. Don kicked the rock. We kept kicking it back and forth all the way across the street. No words were ever exchanged. When we made it to the football field we kept kicking the rock, but we left all the other students and starting kicking the rock all the way down the football field. Still no words. Then when we kicked the rock across the goal line we jumped up and down in celebration. The other students had to think we were nuts.

In 11th grade I was driving Dottie home in my station wagon. Somehow the gas pedal got stuck, at the busy intersection of Riverside and Pio Nono. This had never happened to me before. Didn’t know what to do. Kept trying to reach down and get it unstuck. The whole time Dottie was sitting in the passenger seat, laughing her head off.

Later I hung out with Ellen and Julie. Ellen's family had moved to Macon from Wisconsin. Her dad was a music professor at Mercer, who sometimes worked with our high school band. Ellen’s family couldn’t believe a boy would be interested in her, and jokingly called me the name Archie Bunker called his son in law – “the pre-vert”. Ellen had the best cursive handwriting.  Perfect penmanship. We used to write notes to each other. This of course was before cell phones, texting, and email. You’d write a note on paper, fold it up. We’d leave notes in a specific unused desk in German class.

Julie’s family was more fun-loving and adventurous. When the band went to Disney World for spring break, Julie’s mom let me travel down to Florida with them. After Disney we swung by Daytona Beach.

Senior year I went out with Carol and later Cathy. Carol was deaf, but was still in public school and even a majorette with the band. Carol, Dottie, Julie, and Effen were all a year or two younger than me, but Cathy was a senior like I was. We’d listen to Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” and “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”. My friends Don, Chuck, and Angus called ourselves DOC, after another band consultant, Doc Chenowith. Cathy said DOC stood for “Date Only Chicks”. Cathy, her sister Laura, and friend Julie called their club the NDC – the “Non-Dating Club”.

Just before my 1977 graduation I bought a car for college: a red 1972 Buick Skylark 2 door, with a white landau roof and sporty wheels. Cathy named it “Honey” because she liked to say “Heey Honeyyy”.

One night I took Cathy to our school’s varsity basketball game. Not many students went to games, but it was a cheap date and something to do (better than walking around the mall). At the end of the game, trailing by a point, we inbounded in the backcourt to rarely-used reserve Ronald Bussey, a fun-loving guy. Ronald turned and heaved up a long, three-quarter shot. It stripped the net, winning the game. As the sports editor of the school newspaper (published monthly), that became one of my stories. Cathy and I parted ways when I matriculated to Georgia Tech, but her sister married my friend from church.