In yesterday's post I told of the creation and operation of
the bus station plus some personal experiences there.
I also told of hitting Tommy Hadaway with a glass bottle I
thrown over a bulldozed hill clump.
A lot of us got hurt back then. That was just part of playing.
Just down the street from us, overlooking the bus station
the government built a vocation school for G.I.s returning from the War
(WWII). When they first started building
on it there were rolls of something, I forgot what. We found we could stand on the rolls when
the rolls were turned sideways and walk
it and have a fun little ride until we fell off. My sister Frances was walking a roll and
something went wrong and she fell and broke her arm, a compound break.
I rushed home and told daddy. It was on a Sunday and he was sitting
resting. I said, "Frances fell off
a roll and she has a big dent in her arm!"
Daddy bounded from his chair in a leap and headed to check it out. The doctor said Frances would never use that
arm and hand again. Daddy got a hard
rubber ball and made her squeeze it all
the time. He proved the doctors wrong.
Another time I found if going down a hill on my tricycle if
I raised my feet off the pedals I could go down hills at a high speed. The drive that led from the row of buildings
on Atlanta Street to the street we lived on was my runway. I took off and when the hill went downward I
raised my legs and down I flew.
And a car hit me(WHAM!)
and knocked me out. A black lady
driving a car hit me. It was not her
fault at all and was not charged. it was
totally my fault. I woke up on the couch
with family and friends bending over looking at me.
Another time in the early 1940s when they built the First
Methodist Annex (it is Roy Barnes' law office now) after the workers went home
we would play in the building. Mike
Hobby fell from one level to the ground floor and landed on his feet. Unfortunately, he was barefooted and he
handed on nails. A nail went through his
foot.
Fearing of what his parents might do he went to see
Daddy. Daddy some how removed the nail
and cleaned the wound with kerosene.
Walla! I don't think his parents
ever knew of it.
Another accident i almost forgot, it was so minor: My sister and I shared a bed room with twin
beds. I remember I was inspired by
Mighty Mouse flying with a cape. I sprang from one bed to the other, with a cape of some kind, probably a towel, and my
arms stretched out. It was a small room
but still a long leap for a 4 year old.
One of my flights from bed to bed I missed and my head hit the bedpost
and cut a gash. It took three stitches.
My uncle Doug Hunter kidded me so much about it I became
embarrassed over it all. Pretending I
was Mighty Mouse! I changed the
truth. I told people who asked I bumped
into a door. Mrs. Cannon, the lady who
lived in the next apartment asked me what happened to my head and I said I ran
into a door. She said, "That's not
what I heard!"
Which reminds me, Mrs. Cannon and I had a relationship. One time she was lying on her couch and she
heard me talking, then she heard me open the door and heard me walk over by
her. She told my mother later she
pretended she was asleep so I would leave the apartment, she just needed some down time.
Then she heard me try to wake her up. She kept her eyes shut. Then after a pause she felt something big and
furry press up against her face. She
jumped up to meet the stray cat I had just found and put her on her face to
introduce her to it.
That is another thing about living in a housing project in
the 40s, or at least it was for me and my friends the same age. We did not realize you were to knock on doors
when you went visiting. We thought you
just opened the door and walk on in and if it was early in the morning, you
just walk through the apartment looking for your friend.
If some neighbor kid came in our house now days without
knocking I would have a fit.
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