1979 was my first year of high school. As with most teenagers, I look at high school with fond memories but also with anxiety. Making the cheerleading squad, club initiations and friends were great, but I also remembered not quite fitting in and feeling like I was outside the box. I have such fond memories of my cheer mates from Vance to my senior year at Tennessee High. Laura, Renee, Kelly, Karen K, Karen H, Sonja, Kristi, Kim, Linda, Pam, Melanie, Sharon and Megan. If I didn’t have them, I think I would have fallen through the cracks. I’ll never forget driving home from school one day and hitting a dog right next to King College (now it’s King University). Laura L was right behind me. She stopped her car and got out when she saw I was upset, consoling me and telling me it wasn’t my fault. Her kind words helped me more than she’ll ever know. They were all like that; kind and exemplary and I looked up to every one of them.
Usually, you have that special friend that you love like no other. Mine was Donna W. We would coordinate our wardrobe and exchange outfits because we were both small. We loved our painters’ overalls that weren’t white but in pastel colors. We were such a preppy group with our cabled sweaters, oxford shirts, dock siders/top siders and add-a-bead necklaces. Gloria Vanderbilt and Calvin Klein jeans, Polo sweaters and Izod shirts were in style too. My aunt Sue gave me my first string of pearls in high school, and I fell in love with them. Pearls are my favorite and I still wear them all the time.
Before I got my license, daddy taught me how to drive a straight shift in Tara Hills. Back then, all the roads had been paved but I don’t remember many houses. We were sitting on one of the small inclines and I was trying to go forward but easing the clutch and the gas at the same time takes practice and I wasn’t so good yet. I kept stalling and the car would die. I told daddy “I can’t do it!” crying and carrying on like it was the end of the world. He was so calm and never once got excited. He said lots of calming words, telling me I could do it and eventually, I did. Maybe he did, but I don’t remember my daddy ever yelling at me. Mama would yell and fuss sometimes, but we would cry and then get over it. I wish I could say I never yelled at my kids, but I’d be lying if I did.
Mama and daddy bought me a car for my 16th birthday. It was a baby blue Gremlin. It looked like a piece of junk and if I remember correctly, they paid $700 for it but I can tell you, I was glad to have it. The front fender was a mess, and all bent up. It would stall right in the middle of the road for no reason! But it was all mine, an automatic, and I loved it.
When I got my driver’s license my mama was scared that I would wreck so it took a lot of pleading on my part to drive by myself that first time. I begged and begged to just drive from Stonegate to the little market across from Holston View. I remember her finally relenting but telling me, “Don’t go over 25 mph!” Of course, I was aggravated but I minded her. When My boys got their driver’s license, I didn’t want to let them go either and finally understood how my own mother felt. One of the hardest things you can ever do as a parent is to let go.
Back then if you had a driver’s license (or had a friend with a driver’s license) you could leave campus for lunch, but you had to drive like a maniac to be able to get back in time for your next class. We had McDonalds, Wendy’s, Burger King fast food restaurants to choose from on Volunteer Parkway and there was also a food truck that sold burritos that we went to a lot. When I was old enough, I got my first job at McDonalds (making $3.35 an hour) but mama would also give me $10 for gas and food and somehow and some way I made it through the week. I was in popular demand in my neighborhood for babysitting, earning $1.00 per hour. I just heard that the going rate for babysitting now is $18.50 per hour. What?!!
When I was 16 or 17, daddy had a new car. He loved Toyota’s and Nissans (which he called Nice un’s). Being a mechanic, he knew what cars were the best for the money. I asked to take it out one day and he said I could. It was parked in the front yard for some reason, and my brother’s car was parked on the driveway. We lived on a steep hill. As I was backing out, I hit my brother’s car, wrecking two cars at once. Daddy didn’t even fuss at me, which I would have deserved if he had.
My brother had a Nissan 310 GX. We ended up trading cars my senior year of high school because he lost his job and couldn’t make the payments. Other than it being a straight, I loved that car too. On my brother’s 21st birthday, he took the old Gremlin out to the lake to meet his friends. It backfired and burnt to the ground, along with all his birthday money.
Tennessee High was a great school, and we had a lot of great teachers. There was a smoking section for students in the back of the school if you needed a cigarette. Ha-ha! I wasn’t always the best student. Today I would probably be diagnosed as having ADD or maybe even ADHD. I had such a hard time paying attention, my mind wondering about anything but what the teacher was saying. To this day, I take notes in Church and Sunday School so I will make myself pay attention
One of the hardest classes I ever took was 9th grade Biology with Mr. Barker. That was the first class I ever had that I had to study by my own notes. I took Health Occupations when I was a senior. I learned quickly that nursing wasn’t for me. I was a bit queasy about things but not as bad as my brother. He would gag and throw up if he smelled dog poop. The only thing I did well in that class was make a hospital bed, right, Gwen? Gwen and I could fold those corners like nobody’s business.
Of course, I loved art class and Mrs. Grogg was great. She was also our cheerleading sponsor. I’m no great artist but I can draw a little. I love to paint and do crafts. Granny Cox found her love of painting late in life. She started taking art classes in her 70’s and kept on painting until her fingers got too arthritic. Grandaddy Cox use to build her easels and make frames for her paintings. Daddy’s youngest brother, Jerry also loves to build things. He makes the most beautiful boxes (which I call treasure boxes) with unique pieces of rare wood. A lot of my cousins on my dad’s side of the family are artistic. My cousin Patrick, who I still call “little Pat” because that’s what Granny called him, is an awesome photographer and my cousin Becky is an artist. My cousin Patty was a dentist, but she also liked to paint. My cousin Keith also learned of his love of art later in life.
Karen G. Bruce 