Forty-eight years ago, I experienced nervous anticipation as
I entered the Jemison
High School
I was about to enter uncharted territory for my family and
me with a feeling of “can this be real?”
No one in my immediate family had ever been on this journey. No one in my family had received the honors
and recognition that I was about to receive, but I was not sure I would receive
them.
Weeks prior to this magic moment, things were not well at
home. Mom and I were not on the best of
terms. Looking back it was a mother’s
love and son’s rebellion, a mother’s joy and a son’s fear, and a mother’s tug
and a son’s release.
Things were not so good at school. I, along with other students, had grown tried
of school, racial tension, and each other.
There were so many expectations from everyone. Some were preparing for that big bash. Some were making plans to get a job, go to college,
or go to Viet Nam
As I walked the hall, I realized that this night would be
the last time I would see some of my friends and my classmates. All of us had the look of eager expectation
and tearful eyes of separation.
Someone one asked, “Did you wear your shoes?” Yes, I wore shoes, but part of my fear for
the moment was one of the “don’t” warnings.
Counselors instructed everyone to wear black shoes only. I protested that mom had bought me a new pair
of shoes. There were black and white
dress shoes. I tried to conceal them
from the terrible tyrants who controlled the magnanimous event of the evening.
The closer I got to the auditorium, the more my classmates
celebrated. It was hard to celebrate
with them because some of my friends and I were the reason for the buzz and the
reason for my anxiety. Chuck Ellison
sent my anxiety to new levels of fear when he proclaimed, “They’re not going to
let us graduate tonight.” Yeah, the big
moment for my family and me was my high school graduation. It was a family first, or at least I hoped it
would be.
The night before, under the veil of darkness, several of us
delivered a gift to Jemison
High School
We found an abandoned outside toilet. Some call it an outhouse or privy. Up home, we just call it a toilet. It was a toil to get to it, especially at
night. We painted it with bright colors
of white, pink, blue, and yellow. One of
my classmates, Ricky Coles, used his dad’s pickup to carry out the dastardly
deed of hauling it to town. Ricky, the Pike brothers, the Ellison brothers, and
yours truly loaded the toilet with the intentions of placing it on a small
island curb at the main junction and red light of US Highway 31 and Alabama
State Highway 191. We were all Beta club
members and we decided that might get us in serious trouble with the police if
we put it there.
We hauled it around town for a long time until we figured
out what to do. We all wanted to do it
in honor of our time at Jemison, so that it when we decided to place it in the
most inconspicuous part of the school.
We put in under the flagpole in front of the school with a big note
declaring it as a gift from the seniors of the class of ’71. We celebrated our dastardly deed by returning
to Ricky’s house and downing a few glasses of ice, cold fresh milk. It was the Pike brothers’ first drink of
fresh milk.
Chuck, to this day, says, “I didn’t think we were going to
graduate.” I assured him that we would
and we did. Life has been a forty-eight year journey thus far. With that in
mind, CONGRATULATIONS SENIORS OF 2019 as you begin a new turn in your journey
of life.
Forsake the foolish,
and live; and go in the way of understanding (Proverbs 9:6 KJV).
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