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On these pages, you will find stories from alumni and staff,  relating events from their Children's Home days!

"We are having a bit of trouble trying to protect the innocent. Actually, we are just trying to figure out who was innocent. From my recollection there were few, if any." Graham Murdock (1959)

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Caught by our Underwear A swimming hole was something to be revered. There was hardly ever a day in the fields during late May through the middle of September that didn't warrant a chance to hit a swimming hole. Sometime it was in the bottoms at the river and many times it was a pond. It may even have been an abandoned pool. If you went to a swimming hole…rules applied. There was rule number 2…"Don't tell!" It was a particularly hot day in early May. Rumor had gotten back to us about a house owned by Reynolds that had a swimming pool some way past the main house and out of both sight and earshot. This was much too tempting to pass up. There were several of us that decided to take a Saturday afternoon and sneak off to find this forbidden pool. As I recall with some questionable remembrance, there was Walter Greer, Wilbur James, Grady Mitchell, Tink Reese, Bob Vickory, Gilmer, and me. The directions were somewhat sketchy but we worked our way toward where it should be. We had to pass through two pond/swamp areas that were full of lilies, frogs, and water moccasins. We worked our way gingerly through these two ponds on the shallow edges, ever watchful of the snakes, of which there were many. We finally came within sight of the pool. It was filled with water but had not yet been cleaned out for the summer season. There was a diving board at one end and a pool house that appeared to be locked. There was absolutely no hesitation. Home boys were fiercely competitive and there were seven large splashes occurring at the exact same time. If you have ever seen a superman movie, you have somewhat of an idea of just how fast we shucked our clothes and hit the water. It all started about fifty-feet from the pool. Shirts, pants, underwear. It was just a blur. After about twenty minutes of frenzied play and many gulps of pool water we started to settle down and look around. We couldn't hear anyone and could not see the house up the hill for the large magnolias, rhododendrons, and pines. It was only then that we noticed that the pool water was somewhat green looking. In fact, there was quite a bit of algae. Upon closer examination, it appeared that the pool house was abandoned. Though locked, the door was askew and a side window was broken. The pool also appeared abandoned as the walkway around it was cracked in a number of places. What sounded like a gag from eating molded cake from the Merrita Bread pigpen run welled up from Grady. We all looked at him at the exact same time…being ever vigilant of getting caught. He appeared to be trying to puke and spit at the same time. His eyes were bugging out and he was only able to desperately point to the skimmer pocket on the side of the pool. What ensued then could be likened to six kids that had just witnessed a sideshow act of a man biting the head off a live chicken. All of us were spitting, hawking up any thing we could and trying desperately to be sick. There in the skimmer was the largest dead rat any of us had ever seen. All any of us could think of was that it was diseased, it had maggots crawling out of it, it was dead from poison water, a water moccasin had gotten it, and we were all going to die…if not from the disease, the poison, the imaginary maggots, the water moccasin, then from the sheer thought of it! After several minutes of breathless eternity we were able to start breathing again. Needless to say no one was going back into that pool. Then there is rule number 1…don't get caught… What we heard was a dog barking. It sounded like a large dog. It kept getting closer and closer. The closer it got, the louder it got, and the bigger it got. By now, in everyone's mind it was an enormous dog, and no doubt mad and foaming at the mouth. We all realized we were buck-naked and our clothes were somewhere off in the direction we came. Again, a blur of activity, this time with a different emotion and much greater sense of urgency, i.e., great fear. By the time we stopped running we were over half way back home. We must have set a record for the two-mile sprint. We stopped in a grove of familiar pines and caught our breath. Only then could we start to feel more at ease. We were still spitting. As the adrenalin subsided we started to reflect on what had happened. Then we started to laugh. We laughed so hard it hurt. Looking back, we couldn't remember getting out of the pool…one microsecond we were in the pool .the next we were out. In fact, we don't know how we were able to get dressed in a flat out 'fear for your life' run. None of us remember crossing back over the lily ponds. I vaguely recall thinking at the time that Tink Reese's feet never did go under the water as he flew past us with what appeared to be a snake clinging to his trouser leg. All we did know was that we survived and didn't get caught…(or did we). About a week later we were feeling pretty confident that all was well and we could relax. The pool adventure was all but forgotten. Miss Little was in charge of Tise 1 at the time and Miss Reynolds was in charge of Tise 2. There was a flurry of activity. Wilbur James was called in from Tise 1 and I was called in from Tise 2. Miss Reynolds, Miss Little, and Tula Harrelson were starring at us as though we were about to be hung. In our haste to run from the mad dog, Wilbur had grabbed my underwear and I had grabbed his by mistake. As you know, at the home, your name was on everything you owned. Since our laundry was washed and sorted separately by cottage, the great underwear mix-up was discovered. Before it was all said and done each of the seven were pulled in for interrogation. It appears that we had been seen together that particular Saturday. No one knows how the pieces were all put together, but before it was over the truth was out. We were busted. No doubt a part of the fessing-up came under the threat of Tula Harrison "putting us in a sack and mopping up the floor with us". I don't know if that ever had happened but it sure was a threat to be taken seriously. As I recall we were referred to Paul Booze for reparation. We were not allowed to talk to each other for a couple of weeks and had to help with the planting. We did learn different signals and created a whole new way of communicating about our next adventure…robbing the cannery. This was but one of the many adventures we enjoyed as kids growing up at the Home. Those were magic times with many friends. Little did we know how much we would come to value this 'slice of heaven'. Graham H. Murdock Class of '59

There are times when ingenuity must be displayed.  A kid has the awesome responsibility to invent ways to improve upon the ordinary sliding board.  It was a cold day by North Carolina standards but Miss Carter had still allowed (probably for her sanity) all the kids at the "baby cottage" to go out and play. We were playing on the different yard toys and thought there might be a better and faster way to go down the sliding board.  That’s when we spotted a cardboard box.  It looked just small enough to fit on the sliding board and large enough to hold one person. Neither Gilmer, I or Walter Greer wanted to try our hand at it, so we unanimously elected Sue Hunt. Even at that age Sue was bright.  It took a bit of persuading to convince her to get in the box at the top of the slide, which to us looked like a hundred-feet tall. Sue finally fit herself into the box, and Gilmer and I started to push her.  This was the first (and not the last) time I was introduced to the word “oops”.  This was not a word one spoke lightly.  It usually meant that something had gone wrong, which was indeed was the case.  Instead of Sue Hunt sliding down the board, she started end-over-end rolling down the sliding board in a cardboard box.  Each roll elicited a yell.  Before she hit the ground Walter and I were off the board and running into the crowd.  Gilmer was still on top of the stairs looking in amazement at Sue Hunt in a pathetic, unstoppable roll. It was too late. Miss Carter had spotted the tragic heap at the bottom of the sliding board and simultaneously saw Gilmer, the culprit, at the top.  She ran over to Sue Hunt and saw that she was indeed still alive, though not the same child she had been moments before the slide of her life began. In a flash, Gilmer was marched inside to stand in the corner. After a few minutes Gilmer motioned me over to take his place.  Being identical twins did have its benefits as we could trade punishment and cut the ordeal in half. Little did anyone know! At just the right moment, I darted over to take his place and he darted into the rush of other games.  Less than a minute had gone by when Miss Carter appeared with a paddle and said, “Now I am going to give you that spanking I promised you.” You can bet that was the end of ‘trading places’ on my part.  I think Sue finally forgave us and it was probably years before she ever trusted a boy again.  Sue, if you ever read this….Walter Greer put us up to it!! Graham H. Murdock 1946 - 1959

It was a hot summer Saturday at the Home.  That was almost always the case in the summertime, especially if you were hoeing corn or practicing for the upcoming football season. There was a feeling of excitement as we drew nearer the football field. It was a game of flag football. Not just any ordinary game...this time the girls would be playing with the boys!  That meant only one thing.  The chance to prove once and for all that Judy Dusenberry was NOT faster than all the boys.  This was a matter of much pride to the boys. In fact, we thought there was a law against girls being better than boys at anything, except of course ironing and laundry. A comment like that heard by any of the girls would mean the certain "You'll never get your hands through that Sunday starched shirt!" The girls ruled the laundry and any boy who was in a beef with them could wind up in a starched shirt that would almost break if you dropped it. They could starch a shirt so hard it would rub the back of your neck raw before Sunday school was over. Teams were chosen, with a certain slant toward those who were out to prove boys were superior being selected for the team opposing Judy Dusenberry's. Battle had hardly begun when they gave her the ball. It was time to prove once and for all our male superiority. Off Judy darted toward the left side of the field. All the boys on the defensive team were fast after her. Winfred Hope and Walter Greer were within a step of catching her when she suddenly turned and darted back behind them. Our two best were suddenly grabbing air! Graham and I were the next closest to her and ran smack dab into each other as she hurtled between us. Whoosh...she scored! Wilbur James and Lynwood Saterwhite had slowed their chase a bit as they had become overconfident that we had caught her. What humiliation! It was time for tactics. We would form a circle the next time she received the ball and there would be no escape.  After about twenty minutes of play and a few good tricks of our own the score was evened to one touchdown each. It was the other team's ball. Here it came, the handoff to Judy Dusenberry, the freckled wonder. Our plan was put into action. She was zigging and zagging so fast that we were just able to stay up with her. Just as Grady Mitchell was reaching for the flag she zigged instead of zagged and slipped down,  just as the circle was closing.  Down went Judy Dusenberry, and Grady Mitchell. A pile-up ensued with me on top of Judy and Grady, and onto the pile comes Graham, Wilbur James, Winfred Hope, Mike Ashburn, Lynwood, and Hilda Smith.  Hilda later said she was pulling the boys off. From the bottom of the pile I saw my chance to inflict a bit of wounded pride justice. There across Grady Mitchell's back and right in front of my mouth was Judy Dusenburry's arm. It said very loudly "Bite Me".  I did! The scream was not only deafening by those on the pile, but was heard by Miss Reynolds and Tulla Harrison (sneaking a smoke) and Miss Little. They ran onto the field and into the fray. Tulla was hurling boys off the heap when she came upon Judy Dusenberry. Judy was playing the pain to the hilt, screaming and crying as though a mad dog had bitten her. When asked what was wrong, how was she hurt, she displayed her arm with the double teeth marks. It was as though a cloud of cold rain had swept over everyone. Tulla Harrison peered around to see who had the "guilt of Cain" on their face. No one moved a muscle or showed any emotion (outwardly that is ...inside we all wanted to run). Judy Dusenberry could not identify who had bitten her. Tulla deployed the famous "line-up". This was the customary thing to do when investigating a dastardly deed by one of the boys. It was somewhat routine and we knew to fall in line. Then came the cunning investigative technique only Tulla Harrison could think to deploy....matching teeth with the bite marks. I saw a sound whopping coming, or worse yet, the "I'll put you in a sack and mop the floor with you" threat from Miss Tulla. Every boy feared this threat, though I can't say that I had ever witnessed it actually ever take place.  It was legend and no one doubted it or wanted to experience it first hand. There was a second Christmas for me that year. Graham had gotten in line just ahead of me, or should I say, I had gotten in line behind Graham. Being twins did have its good points sometimes. The matching of teeth was quite simple. Miss Harrison made each boy put their teeth over the bite marks on Judy Dusenberry's arm.  Miss Little and Miss Reynolds and Miss Harrison would then verify a possible match. This is where being twins came in.  Graham's teeth were an exact match with mine. I didn't want him to get in trouble, but... One by one the boys had to put their teeth over the bite marks, Wilbur James, no...Grady Mitchell, no...Mike Ashburn, no,....Bill Dobbins, no...Lynwood Saterwhite, no...Walter Greer, no...Winfred Hope, yes ...YES?...Winfred Hope yes?!!  What happened? How could it happen...? Winfred Hope's teeth were a perfect match! No question. Justice was swift and immediate. The last time we saw or heard Winfred that day was when Tulla Harrison had him by one ear with his feet barely touching the ground, on his way to parts and punishment unknown, denying, denying, denying all the way! We had just missed a certain and sure punishment worse than the infamous "ditch" or Coach Clary's paddle. We had been spared a fate worse than having a pair of our underwear showing up on the girl’s side of campus (that's another yet another story :) To this day we have never told anyone this story, and certainly not Winfred.  If anyone tells Winfred, we'll deny, deny, deny all the way! Gilmer R. Murdock , Class of '60

Till The Cows Come Home There is one thing certain when you grow up on a dairy farm. You will milk cows twice a day, every day of the year. At The Children's Home we did just that. Usually we ran two shifts and alternated between the 3:00am milking and the 3:00 pm milking. The 3:00 am milking was particularly interesting because it was always dark when you started milking. In fact, it could be downright spooky. It was a particularly hot foggy morning in June, and you could barely see five or six feet in front of you. Jerry Murdock was more eager than ever to milk on this particular morning, because he was going to sneak out early to the dairy and try to scare Johnny Tuttle, Wendell Sifford, and Roy Bird. Each morning, the cows had to be herded up from the lower barn and lot to the milk barn. All the crew participated in this event. This was where the scare was to take place. Jerry had stealthily made his way into the lower lot and positioned himself in amongst the cows. It was more difficult than normal because you couldn't see the fresh cow pies. You could only feel along with your bare feet. As you may or may not remember, these were not your small Jersey or Guernsey milk cows but the larger Holsteins, and they made much larger cow pies. Jerry could hear the guys coming down toward the lower barn. His idea was to jump up yelling and scare the bejeezus out of them. It was going to be just great! He could almost see the fear in their eyes, the cold sweat on their foreheads, and terror in their hearts,  just thinking about it. He had to choke back an impulse to break out laughing. As he heard the lower lot gate swing open he stood up from the crouched position he had assumed earlier…then the absolute unforseen happened. Sally, the largest cow we had, weighing over a billion pounds (at that particular moment) being somewhat startled by Jerry, stepped back and right onto his bare foot. Now folks…this was not your ordinary yell. This was a yell of incredible pain…of a billion pound cow on his foot. It was a scream from the dark fog of the lower lot that chilled you to the bone and raised the hair on the back of your neck. The others just knew that somebody or something was dying a terrible death. The "all for one and one for all" creed known throughout all the Home family went right out the window. Great courage and fortitude also was instantly gone. No one even bothered to look at the other to see what they were going to do. It was every man for himself as they raced hell bent for leather toward the house, with a herd of Holsteins following them in a stampede. They could still hear the agonizing screams of pain, but felt whatever had caused this was very close behind them and nobody was stopping to look back. Word has it that when the cows finally came home that morning Dad Shaffer milked them. He never did get the whole story until years later. To this day, Jerry still carries that scar on his foot, and Johnny Tuttle still is afraid of the fog. Gilmer R. Murdock Class of '60

Many of you may not know that the "ditch" was the term for the remains of the wash down from the milk room after every milking. The cows were particularly generous and the ditch filled up quickly. The boys who had done something wrong during the week were invited to help clean it out on Saturday. Of course we were all innocent (yeah, sure.) The names of the boys that come to mind more often than not, who were not quite so innocent on a regular basis were Price, Dobbins, Vickory, Hope, Tuttle, Greer, Wagner, Mitchell, Byrd, and yes...Murdock. These are some of the accusations: Robbing the pig pen of cakes. Stealing cracklings during hog slaughter time Sneaking out stealing the farm truck Biting Judy Dusenberry Dropping water balloons onto convertibles from the train trestle over Renolda Road Swimming in RJ Renolds swimming pool naked and getting underwear mixed up  Giving Johnny Horton the best blackberries and Paul Booze the green ones Stealing peaches from the cannery by prying up the floor  Stealing peaches from the pantry by leaving a window unlocked  Taking flying squirrels to the movies and letting them go in the theatre  Keeping pet squirrels in our rooms Letting lightning bugs go in the movies  Using slugs in pay phones   Thought I would share a "cook book" story with you: I can remember hearing Miss Smith screaming with her mouth full of food and see her running toward the stairs. Chairs and tables were knocked aside in the dinning room as if she was running from the Devil himself. It was a few days before vacations were to begin. Everyone was looking forward with great expectation to going away for the three week summer vacation. Away from the dairy and milking twice a day, away from the farm and hoeing those endless rows of corn, and away from throwing hay bales. The planning for this "piece of cake adventure", in this case "can of peaches adventure" took place several days before. The other person involved, (whose initials are Winfred Hope), and I planned to leave a window to the cafeteria unlocked the day we had kitchen duty. We knew that Miss Smith's day off was Wednesday and she would not be around. Things were working out quite well. We got the window unlocked and left the pantry door unlocked. The gallon of peaches (a plain gallon can marked with a stroke of yellow paint) was set out on the shelf in the pantry within easy reach. It was about 8:00pm and the kitchen was closed. Everyone was doing their thing on this particularly hot August evening. Winfred and I met up and headed for the kitchen window. We cautiously looked around and made our way over to it, opened it and quickly crawled inside. We listened very carefully. The only thing we could hear was our hearts pounding. We quickly made our way over to the pantry, opened the door and darted inside. We had just closed the pantry door when we heard a dreaded sound...a key in the door at the other end of the dinning room from the stairs leading to the living quarters. Miss Smith had come back early from her day off. I grabbed the peaches and dove under a large meat cutting table. Winfred closed the pantry door behind him and disappeared. Miss Smith walked through the cafeteria and into the kitchen. You could tell it was her by the sound of her walking, and I could see her white shoes. She went to the refrigerator and got the makings for a sandwich, picked up a plate and came over to the table I was under. To this day I do not know why she didn't hear my heart beating. Lord knows it about deafened me. Worse yet, where was Winfred? There goes the vacation, here comes three weeks in the ditch, and a sound talking to and whopping with the famous Coach Clary paddle with holes in it to give it less wind resistance. My life as I knew it was over. Miss Smith fixed her sandwich, got some milk, and commenced eating it right there over me. It was an eternity before she finally started to leave. Where in God's name was Winfred? Miss Smith put the last bite of sandwich in her mouth and walked over to the large commercial style dishwasher. She placed her glass and plate on the large dishwasher tray and hit the start button, which gave an instant blast of water under pressure, and she started to slide the tray into the dishwasher. There was a scream like no other that came from the dishwasher. That's right boys and girls...Winfred had hidden in the dishwasher. The sudden shock of cold water and the fact that his heart was already in his mouth made it impossible not to let out a blood curdling scream. Miss Smith flat out came unglued. She was so scared that she blindly ran the full length of the kitchen, dinning room, and up the stairs to her room screaming the whole way. We bolted out the window. Neither of us was first and neither of us was last. We looked like one kid coming through that window. We immediately hid the peaches and snuck in the back door so Winfred could change clothes and dry his hair. Off we went to mingle in the crowd. Twenty minutes later there was a line-up. No one admitted anything and no one was ever caught. In true Children's Home fashion, no one fessed up. Only one thing...when we went back to get the peaches we had hidden...they were gone. To this day we don't know who got them and we weren't asking. Graham H. Murdock Class of '60

There are some things a boy or boys under 12 just don't do. It is an unwritten law that boys do not hug girls, are never seen in or near a girls bathroom, and never ever do anything that would bring shame down on their buddies. Also in the case of Home boys, never risk offending Tulla Harrison, the goddess of threatened punishment or bring embarrassment upon the housemothers. That's all well and good unless you are Tinker Reese. Tink for short. Tink didn't adhere to any code of conduct, much less one that involved girls or etiquette. At that age, Tink thought girls didn't exist and had no clue of proper etiquette, or improper etiquette for that matter. It was sponsor day at the Home. Each church group sponsoring one of the boys or girls from the Home had an opportunity to visit the Home and meet their sponsored boy or girl in their natural setting (...sounds like a zoo. Truth is, there were days....) It gave the sponsors the opportunity to see the cottages and meet the housemothers. Days were spent preparing for this special event. Care was taken to see that the cottages were clean and the campus was neat and orderly. Each boy and girl was to put his or her "best foot forward". (Never did understand that saying. I thought for years most people were born with a gimp foot and could only show their good one. Oh well.) As was the rule, several of the boys decided that since we didn't have to work on the farm that day we'd sneak off to pick blackberries. This was a favorite pass-time as it allowed us to venture beyond the campus and into the unknown world. Usually that was just over the hill of the upper pasture up near the old white church. Most of the Homeboys knew that was where Paula Ray was buried. We had a particularly good berry-picking day. Tink had picked up a box at the gully (the Children's Home dump site) and we had it completely full in no time. With our bellies full and the hot sun beating down on us we decided it was time we got back to the doings. As we approached the football field, we noticed that all the sponsors and many of the boys and girls were enjoying a picnic style lunch. All I could think of was Miss Holland's fried chicken and potato salad. My mention of that hastened everyone's pace. Tink Reese was leading the pack of shirtless tan boys as we came onto the field. As we got closer we noticed that the crowd was getting quieter and quieter. Tink was popping the blackberries into his mouth from the box we had filled. Just then from out of nowhere came Tulla Harrison.... Snatch!!..Rap!!... the box of blackberries was gone and an instant knot was visited upon Tink's head. A moment or two passed before the silence was broken with Coach Clary announcing that they were going to cut the watermelon. It wasn't until a bit later that we learned that the blackberries hadn't been confiscated because we weren't allowed to have them. It was the fact that the box picked at random from the gully for the berries was a Kotex box and Tink was seen eating out of said Kotex box by all the Church Sponsors. A mortal sin for any boy for sure but far, far worse for establishing poor demeanor for good, Christian children. But then Tink wasn't into demeanor. In fact, Tink was a boy's boy and had both Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn beat...by a long shot...certainly by a Kotex box. Normally it would be a while before any boy lived that down, but it was only shortly later that Tink was in the thick of it again. But that's another story. Gilmer R. Murdock 1946 - 1956

There was about 10 or 12 "Home" boys involved in this incident. We were all running in the pastures when we decided to go up to the milk barns. We ran up on about 15 cows and started running them. There was a brown and white dog that got mixed up among us. We all ran for about 15 or 20 minutes then, without warning we heard a gun shot! It came from the barn area and it scared the daylights out of us! The gunfire was later determined to be from a 22 caliber rifle, the bullet from which hit the dog behind the right ear. We had to have the dog put to sleep. As far as I know, none of us ever chased cows again. Darrell Mcallister, Class of 1977.

Don Cook (1954G) related as to how he and some of the boys sneaked off to the movies one night. On the way back to the cottage, in the dark of the night, they were having a great time talking about the movie and the fun they had sneaking out. As they approached their cottage, someone asked how they were going to get back inside to their beds. About that time one of the 'boys' spoke up and said, "Why don't we just go right in the front door?" So they did! Quietly and carefully, they all filed inside and as soon as the last 'boy' came through the door the lights were flipped on and Pop Woosley (who had joined the wayward group in the dark without the groups even realizing it!) pointed to each boy in turn and ordered them to meet with him the next day.

Debbie (Belk) (69L) recalls how, on one of those many wonderful snowy nights at the age of 13, the boys and girls were sledding together. With coats, scarves, gloves, boots, 2 pair of knee socks, and caps, the girls took off from Julia Higgins Cottage and trudged to the boys side to sled down the big hill and across Reynolda Drive. Jimmy McDougle (1969L), a very good looking guy, repeatedly asked Debbie to ride with him - much to the aggravation of Sandra Hall! So miffed was she that she asked him point blank, "Why do you keep asking Debbie to sled with you?" His response, much to Debbie's chagrin, was quick and as to the point as any 13 year old's would be... "Cause she's heavy and makes the sled go faster!"

Ric Walker, Jr. (1969L), like so many of us, remembers with pain his very first tender and terrifying encounter of puppy love, and how he ruined it, as so many adolescent boys manage to do. After walking Debbie McMaster (1973G) back to her cottage across the lawn from the Church having just come from MYF, Debbie stops under the glow of the street light at the edge of the lawn on a romantic, warm, summer evening. An awkward moment of silence ensues in which Debbie is apparently expecting the very nervous (if not totally clueless) Ric to attempt a kiss. Becoming frustrated at his inaction, she attempts to be the instigator of the kiss and rises up on tiptoe with his lips in mind as the receiving target of her youthful show of affection and so very important first kiss. Ric however, with all the luck of a fish trying to find water in the driest of deserts, chooses this exact moment to turn his head to look nervously across the road to the cottage door to see if they are being watched. Of course the worst has happened and dear Debbie immediately and erroneously assumes this timing is purposeful on Ric's part and that she has been spurned when the kiss lands, not on the desired target of his lips, but only just brushes his left cheek. The tender and budding love now has no chance whatsoever of flourishing and soon the couple break up (like the very next day) when Debbie dumps Ric, as an inept and uncaring would-be boyfriend. Ric is too embarrassed and just plain too scared to attempt to explain the error and regrets his youthful cowardice to this very day!

"Dub's Wild Rides" Dub Speight (1955G) was remembering that Arliss Brigman (1953G) used to drive one of the flatbed trucks used for Saturday deliveries to the kitchens, hauling laundry to and from the cottages, hauling trash, etc. "One time, Arliss was driving from the area of the "Baby Cottage" to the Laundry Building. As he rounded the corner near the front of the Stockton Building, one of Newton's laws of inertia became a reality. I was flung off the truck! My feet did some  quicktime, big time! Luckily I was thrown onto  the ground near one of the magnificent magnolias I used to play in when I visited my mother at the Stockton Building. (She was an employee from Dec 1945 to 1952.) If I am not mistaken, there was a second incident. This time Arliss was driving to a "watermelon feast" at Alspaugh Field. I was sitting, as usual, on the left side of the flatbed. As we approached the field from the direction of the Neal Building, Arliss followed the curve of the road between the football field and the gym. As might be expected, I was thrown off the truck. This time, I used my hands to "brake/break" my fall. Well, more riding and I was at the infirmary to get my hands bandaged. By the time I got back to the field, the gluttons had really "feasted". Hardly a decent slice of melon was left! And there may have been another ride. One Saturday, I think, we were removing manure from the main barn beside the "Milking Room". Billy Nichols got upset with me, jammed his pitchfork at my pitchfork. His tool slide up the handle of my pitchfork, and I was struck in the forehead with one of the tines. I was rushed to the infirmary, with either Arliss or Johnny Walters and Buck Hall. One of these boys had his head out the window, making like a siren. I have a scar on my forehead to remind me of the "wickedness" of Billy Nichols, the raucous ride to the hospital, Annie Smith's caustic bedside manner, and having to go back and fork more of that manure. And finally, I have noted that Arliss seems to be something of a boating enthusiast. Well, I know better than to ride with him!"

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