PAGE FIVE THE ELEMENTARY DAYS

As I said before, I began school in Cave Junction, Oregon. Its claim to fame was that you couldn't get there from Oregon; you had to go to California and then north to the town. This might be one reason for it becoming a major drug supplier. It was school buses, lunches that had lima beans, and nap times when I wasn't tired. We moved back to Sweet Home for the rest of the year. I remember sitting backwards in the chair and singing cowboy songs. Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal, low bridge everybody down.

We lived by the S,\. Santiam River, and had the perfect swimming hole. It was a placid pool of about half an acre in size. It was connected to the river but had no current. A small stream flowed into our pond, and the water was a fantastic shade of blue. The parents hired a swimming teacher, so there were no drownings on their watch. School was always out by June 1, but Mom wouldn't let us swim because of the undertow. I spent a good deal of my time in June skinny dipping so Mom wouldn't see wet clothes.

Summer lasted forever. I started second grade in Pistol River; I spent a lot of my time running from bullies; overall, it wasn't bad. We moved back to Sweet Home, and danged if there weren't too many second-grade baby boomers. I got sent to the Catholic Church with all the other extras. The teacher was probably a German Prison guard in another life. She believed in the paddle first and ask questions later school of education. She would paddle each of the boys every morning because she reasoned that we were going to do something during the day. My best friend was moving, and I stayed after school to play. I missed my bus, she paddled me, and made me walk home. I believe that this was the grade where on Valentine's Day, we would give valentines to everyone. No one was ever left out. I would notice that the phrase "You Stink: would be written and erased on some of my cards. I didn't realize it, but I did stink. We got one bath a week, and I shared a bed with a bed wetter.

I discovered baseball about now. I could read the news, and Mickey Mantle was the phenom. I was perhaps the worst baseball player ever. Playing catch, I would get pummeled by the tosses. My first year in Little League I did not hit a fairball. Fatal uppercut swing. I hit alot of balls behind me. My first at bat in my second year, I hit a grounder back to the pitcher. I wanted that ball, no dice. I ran home and told Mom. She wasn't as happy. I wasn't supposed to play, I had had a bad headache that weekend. But if a coach ever said Copeland, get in there, I was a gamer.

I'll leave a light on for you.