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Thinking back was there a teacher who had a great influence on you?
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
Senior year in high school, just a few required classes to graduate, time to pick a few electives to fill the time. A new choice this year, Art class was being offered for the first time, to be held in one of the old Home Ec rooms.
The class quickly filled with seniors and we soon found out that it was different from any class we had taken before. The teacher was young Kathy Curtacci, fresh out of college, full of great ideas and plans.
I remember one of our first assignments was to go out into the parking lot (we actually got to leave the classroom – another first!) to attempt a pencil drawing of a motorcycle parked there. Most of us didn’t have a clue about drawing or art, and I am sure those drawings reflected that inexperience.
Drawing was just the tip of the iceberg, just getting our feet wet. Over the course of the year, we painted, carved linoleum blocks for printing (which Ms. Curtacci used to make her own Christmas cards to send out that year), made pottery creations which we glazed and fired in a kiln, made paper mache.
My favorite was by far – tie dye!
You have to keep in mind, this was 1971, the hippie movement was still lingering on. She told us see if our fathers would let us have an OLD t-shirt for this project. She showed us how to apply the rubber bands to make patterns, use different colors of dye.
We were so proud of those shirts!
I have used tie dye again and again over the years – at a Girl Scout event we set up the dye for the different levels – blue for the daisies, orange for the brownies, green for the juniors. When grandson Kyle became a football player, Melissa and I had purple (team colors) tie dyed t-shirts to wear to the game, and just recently at a birthday party next door, 13-year-olds got to tie dye their own shirts to take home. One of the girls was overhead saying – did your mother used to be a hippie?
During the course of our senior year, young Ms. Curtacci and Coach Thompson fell in love and were later married. She went on to become Dr. Thompson, local artist and teacher. She still teaches art classes at the local Blue Ridge Mountain Arts Association.
I saw her a couple of years ago at Arts in the Park, I told her that I was in her first class at West Fannin High – and she said, “I remember you – you married Kay’s brother and were going camping on your honeymoon to Colorado!”
As far as answering the question about a teacher having a great influence on you, maybe I should have picked Mr. Hellerstedt who taught us algebra, or the countless teachers who tried to make us appreciate literature and science, but the only one that stands out in my mind is Kathy Curtacci, Art Teacher!
tell about exciting experiences in young women, scouting, or whatever…
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
Girl Scouts
camping out in tents, singing Kumbaya around the campfire, On My Honor…
4-H camp
Bunk house, lake swimming, arts and crafts, hello muddah, hello faddah
first kiss
was it playing spin the bottle?
first dance
possibly shoeless on the gym floor
first date
who can remember these things?
driving a car
look out world – another female driver
high school prom
playing dress-up – fancy dress, beauty shop, makeup, high heels
first flowers
12 red roses on my 18th!
away to college
freedom from parents, but don’t forget the dorm curfew
first concert
nitty gritty dirt band – Mr. Bojangles
falling in love
forever and ever
tell about your teenage social life – your friends, dances, dating, outings, church functions, etc.
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
High school football games
Push ‘em back, push ‘em back
Basketball games
2 bits 4 bits 6 bits a dollar…
Sock hops after the games
No shoes on the gym floor
The local Canteen
Live band, wanna dance?
Listening to records with friends
Crimson and clover over and over
Bad hair days
Sleeping on curlers with taped bangs
Drive-in movies
Popcorn and bingo
High School Prom
Playing dress up
Me and my BFF Wilma
Picking up guys on the side of the road
Tell about home cures or old wives tales, hiccups, toothaches, earaches, arthritis.
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
I remember my brother taking sulfur and molasses to prevent chiggers from biting him, it seems the sulfur smell comes out of your pores and smells bad so the chiggers won’t bite…
holding an aspirin on a toothache until it melts
putting butter on burns
Coke for hiccups (after holding my breath didn’t work)
gargle with warm salt water for a sore throat
Clorox on a wasp sting
starve a fever, feed a cold – or was it the other way around?
Of course the most effective cures came from my mom:
a stern look would stop you in your tracks
a swat on the backside would send you to your room
a hickory switch cured a whole lot of things – smart mouth, arguing, fighting with your brother…
Tell about the houses you lived in childhood – addresses, phone #s, etc.
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
Oh which house? Where to begin?
There was the house in the country near Ft. Bragg, North Carolina – big yard, garden. I was in first grade, and I remember this was our first house after living in Army housing, and my parents went back to their roots – growing vegetables, canning, freezing. I witnessed first hand what it means by ‘running around like a chicken with its head cut off’. My dad went to Korea while we lived there, my mom got a job, and my brother and I became latch-key kids. Once when we came home from school, the house had been broken into. My brother said he was going to call the sheriff. I thought he had lost his mind, they don’t have sheriffs any more – that is just on Gunsmoke – call the police! The TV dinner was popular at our house during this time, and my mom would save the aluminum comparted trays and refill them with home cooking for our own personal TV dinners.
Then the next house was a duplex in Army housing at Fort Rucker, Alabama. This was great fun, paved sidewalks for bike riding, lots of neighborhood kids to play with, warm weather, just 90 minutes from the beach at Panama City, Florida. We would walk from the school in a line down the sidewalk through the houses to the nearby playground or swimming pool. Once while walking single file a mom ran out to tell our 4th grade teacher about the assassination of President Kennedy. Also while living on the base, my mom became very good at bowling and even golf.
After leaving LA (lower Alabama) when my dad retired, we moved to the mountains of North Georgia. Our first house was just a little 4 room shack house without a bathroom. It was an adventure to say the least. My folks once again went back to nature and their roots, planting a garden, having chickens, and even a couple of calves. The little house served as a roof over our heads for a couple of years while my dad built us a new house. My brother was 5 years older than me, he listened to the Beatles and Roger Miller. While in the little house I joined many other young girls in watching the Monkees – ooohhh Davy Jones! By the time we got in the new house, my brother was out of high school and well on his way out of the house. The house had wonderful large windows – floor to ceiling – along with a beautiful front door and mantlepiece that had been salvaged from an old house torn down by my father.
As a military family, we moved around a lot and did not develop ties to any one place. The longest time I spent in any of our houses was about 5 years. There is no old homeplace to go back to visit, to pass down to the kids and grandkids. There are just places we stopped for a while before moving on to the next place. But it was always home where ever we were, a home with a family and a pet or two.
I feel fortunate to have married into the family I have now, everyone is so close. My husband and his sisters only ever lived in one house growing up, the one their dad built. The land we live on now has been in the family for over a half century, and plans are to pass it on for future generations.
tell how, when, where you learned to drive and any memorable experiences…
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
I learned to drive on the old dirt road that we lived on at the time in the rural north Georgia mountains.
My best friend, Wilma, and I were 14 and would practice driving whenever my mom would let us. We went for our drivers’ licences at the same time, learner’s license at 15 and regular license at 16.
I remember taking driver’s education in high school, learning the 3-point turn, how to pass, stopping on a dime.
I think my folks were glad when I was able to drive, no more carting me around to every ballgame and school function. I did not have my own car – just the family car to drive.
The car radio would be tuned in to the songs of the times – Crimson and Clover by Tommy James, Dizzy by Tommy Roe, One by Three Dog Night, Bad Moon Rising by CCR.
After ballgames and before heading home we made the necessary stop at the Dairy Queen or Tastee Freeze, where we would see friends and maybe even get a bite to eat.
And no daily driving to school, it was the big yellow bus for me until high school graduation!
did you have a bicycle and what was it like?
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
of course I had a bike!
it was blue and fast
and I could ride with no hands
it provided escape from the house and chores and mom
it would race with my friends
or make clickety-clack sounds
from the playing cards on bike spokes
pure freedom flying down the street or sidewalk
the wind in my face, not a care in the world
what were the favorite places to go with your family when you were young?
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
I was 9 years old when we moved to southern Alabama. The gulf beaches were just 90 minutes away. On Saturdays we would load up the old blue station wagon and head south, taking the usual beach stuff- blanket to lay on, towels, food, drinks. There were no convenience stores or fast food places there then, just miles of white sand beach and blue water as far as we could see. We would just pull off the road anywhere and walk over to the beach, carrying a day’s worth of stuff with us.
There was always a float to blow up for me to ride the waves, which I would do for hours. I don’t remember beach chairs or suntan lotion or sunsets or what we had to eat. I do remember the anticipation on the trip down and the happy slumber on the trip home.
The beach is still one of my favorite places to visit. The sand between the toes, the calming motion of the waves, the constant splashing sounds, the bright sunlight, the relaxing heating pad effect of the warm sand. A free therapy session to escape the everyday life.
Definitely a no worries kind of place, when are we leaving?
Tell about family reunions.
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
lots of pies
My how you have grown!
pound cake from scratch
I remember when you were just this high!
crispy fried chicken
So what do you want to be when you grow up?
fresh creamed corn
Do you have any boyfriends?
cornbread
Smile for the camera
sweet tea
You remember your cousins?
squash casserole – ugh!
old maid aunts
hand-cranked ice cream
black sheep
chocolate chip cookies
Remember back when…
old home place
Wish grandpa was here…
More often than not, family gatherings were at funerals, so in addition to catching up on family happenings and eating a lot of food, we also remembered the loved one gone, told stories of their life, were reminded of the bonds of family.
describe your yard as a child – did you help with the yard work?
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
A swing.
Growing up, I always had a swing.
We moved around a lot, but that was the one constant in my memory of childhood yards.
Either a rusty swing set,
Or a rope thrown over a tree limb
with a board for a seat.
Or even a tire swing.
Nothing like swinging on a summer day
the wind in your face
going up high
touching the leaves with your feet
back and forth
That sounds so good, I wonder why we don’t have swings as adults? Something that gave us such pleasure as kids, why would we not continue this? Yes, we have a porch swing, but it is not really the same…
Maybe we as adults get our kicks in other ways, but why?
tree swing poster at art.com
