I think the statue of limitations has run out on certain crimes I did as a teenager, such as littering and drinking beer as a minor, or I might not be telling this.
Back in the late 50s and early 60s we went to Victoria Landing at Lake Allatoona often to work on a houseboat and to hangout.
We normally went to Victoria Landing by going up Bells Ferry Road which ran into another road near the Kellogg Creek area, then up just a few miles and turn left.
Many times we stopped at Medford’s Grocery Store and bought beer. Mr. Medford was a pudgy greedy looking man, but he had principles. Yep, he had very high strict principles of what age he would sell beer to you. You had to be grown; or at least grown enough to be able to push your money across the counter.
Medford’s Store is where the little strip shopping center is now at the corner of Bells Ferry Road and Ernest Barrett Parkway.
As soon as we pulled out of the parking lot we would open our first beer. Usually we would each have an empty beer can to dispose of about the same time we reached where Booth Road came into Bells Ferry Road.
On the left by Booth Road is where the Westmoreland family lived. Yep, the same Westmoreland family that kept a journal on the happenings of the community that I occasionally present several transcribed pages to the blog. Then, I was not aware of the Westmoreland family and did not know my great uncle Arthur Hunter was part of that family.
On the right of Bells Ferry Road, across from the Westmoreland’s house, is where we tossed our freshly emptied beer cans (in my defense, tossing beer cans was not as politically incorrect, as it is in today's times).
We were not the only ones tossing our empties there. Other friends would empty their beer cans about the same place and throw their cans in the same yard.
One time we were throwing our cans and I saw a man pushing his lawnmower glaring at us. The next week he was there waiting and hollered at us when we showered his yard with cans.
It did not happen with the car I was in, but happened to a friend, and off hand I do not remember what friend but he and his friends drove up excited because when they threw their cans out into the yard a man stepped out from a bush with a gun and took a shot at them.
We quit throwing beer cans in the man’s yard. After that we had an unspoken gentlemen's agreement: we wouldn’t throw beer cans in his yard and he wouldn’t shoot us.
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One Friday night in the late 60's my parents took a weekend vacation and left me at home to be my usual 18 year old responsible self (yeh right!).
I immediately had five "beer buddies" lined up to come over for the evening to shoot pool, drink beer, and hopefully go meet some girls.
One of the guys could not arrive until later because he played Marietta High varsity football (more on that coming up).
For some reason instead of buying our beer on Page Street in Marietta from an old black guy (our usual method), we decided to buy it from a beer machine (25 cents a beer) at the off base officer quarters on South Cobb Drive. We took in a full size grocery bag and loaded it up with beer. We noticed that we were being watched but thought we had it made. Just as we started to leave, a guy came in an ordered us to his office. He had a smile on his face, and thought it was funny as hell to watch us almost make a break for it and then ruin everything! He gave us all our money back and told us not to return. Guess we were lucky, thinking back...
We then drove to "The River". This was the liquor/beer store at the Fulton/Cobb County line on South Cobb Dr. We managed to pay a guy to get our beer for us and headed back to the house for a fun- filled evening.
Within half an hour one of my fun loving buddies had burned a hole in the arm of the couch with his cigarette, and I could begin to tell that a couple of them had never drank much beer because they were beginning to act like dumb asses after 2 beers.
Anyway, we managed to play pool half the night and then pass out without anything else going wrong.
At least that is what we thought.
We had dodged a bullet, a big one, and we did not even know it until the next day. It seems that Wally, the football player, called and said he had been tossing his cookies every since he had gotten home from the game. By the way, his parents were out of town too. We still tried to talk him in to coming. Maybe some beer would make him feel better.
The bullet we dodged is that Wally most likely would have died in our drunken care that night. He had a ruptured appendix, and called his aunt. Thank God she took him to Kennestone Hospital where he was operated on and recovered very quickly. The thing is that we would have thought he was just drunk and would have been too dumb and scared to take him home or call anyone. When I think what might have happended it still freaks me out!!!!!
HHC,
We just returned from shopping all day.
Wow! A
Wally had ruptured appendix! Memories, some people just barely lives through them!
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