That Perfect Pitch

Recent summer days here in Kentucky have been a string of hot, hot, and muggy 80 to 90 degree ovens.  Having baked a bit today, my mind drifted back to those winter school days when enough snow would fall leaving one free to produce those "snow angles" and "snow men", and a good snow ball fight when the neighborhood gang got going.

During these days, there was a special place just right for throwing snow balls at passing cars.  It was located at the north end of Vine Street where a cinder-block foundation once stood.  At one end it was about six feet high tapering down gradually some 10 feet away to a two block stack.  The wall ran parallel  to Washington Street where cars would travel east and west having to slow their speed due to the snow.  One could hide behind the six feet part, and when a car passed you could move down the wall as needed to let fly that well packed ball of ice. 

On this particular snow day, solo flight was in order, and I was alone with several of those expertly prepared vehicles of ice.  A black 54 Ford appeared heading west.  Hum...a perfect target it was.  Now it took a certain amount of skill to time the release based upon the speed of the car, the height of the wall you had reached, and the projected angle of impact.  The car heading west was also an advantage since its back side would be more exposed as one moved down the wall.  Well here goes.

The snow ball arrived as planned, but little did I know that the back side window was opened.  Right through the back window it went.  What a perfect pitch it was.  Enjoying this moment came suddenly to an end when the 54 Ford stopped and a well built man exited his vehicle.  Where did that come from and boy is he going to get it seemed to be his objective.

RUN...I thought...RUN...but where?  My oversized rubber snow boots did not help a lot, and in a short period of time I was discovered and caught still holding one of those tightly packed balls of snow.

My memory fails me here, and I do not exactly recall the events which followed.  Still alive and breathing I must have talked my way around this big fella's hands... or, more likely he must have felt this puny little guy certainly could not have thrown such a strike as received through his back window.  Be that as it may, I remember that perfect pitch.

Kentucky Barns

For a nine year old, the 1950s in Central Kentucky had a few things certain.   Church on Sundays, getting spanked at home if you got spanked at school, the "Voice" of the Kentucky Wildcats   [Caywood Ledford], and tobacco barns.  You know those stately, wood, black painted structures that had all those openings along the sides, and a shining metal roof.  A Sunday drive around the Bluegrass country side seeing tobacco growing in every field, would certainly need somewhere to reside after being cut.  On long drives, you could count the barns you observed while hanging out one of the back windows.

Here is all that remains today...

Time has past.  The tobacco fields are long gone.  Most of the remaining barns look somewhat like the one above.  Not what you would call "stately". 

Hats and Hands

Taken around the early 1950s, this picture shows a group of cars and a group of men.  It must have been one of those auctions that seem to attract all those folks who are looking for that special deal.  There is a house, shed, large barn, two gas pumps, and a lot of different models of cars.  [How many models can you identify?]

There is also a large number of men standing around the area where all the autos are parked.  What struck me from this photo was the number of hats being worn.  Lots, and lots of hats ride on the heads of men during this period of time.  I do not remember men routinely wearing hats after the 1960s, but here in the early 1950s it seems to be the majority.  [Indiana Jones had something to say about this a little later in time.]

Hands in the pockets struck me also.  It would seem that most had their hands in their pockets.  For me, during this time, pockets were used to place "pocket knives", marbles, special rocks, rabbit's feet, and other special stuff that might come in handy during a routine day.  Maybe these folks were thinking about spending their money on one these automobiles, and they wanted to keep their money from jumping out.   Hats and hands it is.  Today men still use their pockets for hands, but not their head for hats.

Perfect Attendance

Attending church was a regular part of the 1950s. Each family would dress up, dad in a suit, mom in a dress, and the young-uns did the best they could do. The south end of town was the cluster of churches that became the most active part of town on Sunday mornings. Even finding a place to park a car was difficult, especially if your church faced Main street like ours. It seemed that almost all the families in Winchester attended church. We were no exception.

Dad was the "song leader" (music director), and mom taught one of the children's Sunday School classes. Being the song leader was a key position in our church since there were no organs, pianos, keyboards, drums, guitars, or any sort of musical instruments. Ours was a Church of Christ which did not believe in instrumental music. You sang from the heart using your voice only. Acapella it was called. Getting this started on the right key was a real task.

My perfect attendance pin is shown. Nine years of perfect attandance! Can you imagine, 108 Sundays in a row not being sick. I guess that some needed a little extra help, and I certainly needed it. Not that I was perfect, far from it. But, as to attendance, I didn't do too bad.