PENNY'S PAGE
Short stories by Classmate Penny Whitfield Dixon, a great story teller, author and humorist! 

815 WEST BAY STREET

One of the advantages of growing up at 815 West Bay Street, Perry, FL, was its close proximity to the Atlantic Coast Line Railroad.  The tracks were across the street and the depot was only a block away from our house.  Entertainment was readily available at either place.  Glass bottles dropped from passenger windows of passing trains provided a source of income at 2 cents per bottle.  Bowden's store, by the depot, never seemed to mind buying my bottles because most of those coins went right back to them.  A Pepsi could be purchased for 5 cents, but I digress.  My brother, Abe Whitfield, had a wider range of bottle collecting territory than I, thus his pile of bottles was significantly bigger than mine.   Occasionally, he would "loan" me some bottles to finance my needs and desires. With interest, inflation, etc., I probably still owe him a sizeable nest egg today on that unpaid debt.

Some coins got sacrificed on the tracks.  Although we heard that it was unlawful to deface US currency, we couldn't resist seeing what the weight of 30-60 cars would do to a coin.  As the caboose left us in the distance, our flattened penny was found to have taken on the diameter of a half-dollar!  Well, maybe a quarter.

The depot was only a minute away by bike.  We had free reign to ride up the ramp to the loading platform.  We explored the content of boxcars to our satisfaction but had to face the music when we became graffiti artists and wrote the name of our club on the insides of several cars.  The Three Muskateers were known to be two other buddies and myself, and there was no way to deny our logo.  Mama got wind of it and "explained" it to where I didn't dare do that again!  I know that she got tired of trying to hem in everything I could think to do in the ample amount of leisure time I had available.

Across Highway 19/27 and a few blocks west on Main Street was the former Burton Swartz lumber mill.  In front of their office was a round shaped concrete gold fish pond.  Watching the well-fed fish swim amongst the lily pads was forever fascinating.  If we were lucky enough to have some bread, we'd feed them.  Their feeding frenzy was a sight to behold.  Everybody in town seemed to go there for the show.  

For my 10th birthday, I received what would be my main mode of transportation for the next few years, a 26" Schwinn Western Flyer bicycle!   I rode that bike to the fish pond and all over Perry, putting 100's (1000's?) of miles on it.  We lived eight blocks from town.  My goal was to ride those eight blocks with my hands not touching the handle bars.  The feat required speed and balance.  It was sport to me!

I rode to my summer job, teaching swimming lessons and lifeguarding at the pool.  By the time I rode there and back plus swam for four hours, I'd worked up an appetite!  Mama would have the bounty from our summer garden cooked and ready to eat when I got home.    Vegetables, fried chicken, cornbread . . . . , but that's a different story.  

Oh, to be that young and agile again!  It was also sport to RUN to Bowden's store and back to shop for items mama needed for some recipe.  She told me that she counted the whole time I was gone and would give me a number on how long the trip took me, running like a gazelle. Retrospectively, seems those numbers might have been fabricated.  Of course, I ran "barefooted as a yard dog". 

The depot is gone as are the tracks.  None of The Three Muskateers live in Perry.   The Schwinn Western Flyer, a memory.  A trace of the scar on my knee remains where I thought I would become airborne leaving the depot dock.  Man, did that bike crash hurt!!   But, until I crashed, that flight was exillerating!   Memories.   Memories . . . .

MY FIRST BOYFRIEND

Mama always told this story on me.  She said I came in from school in first grade and said, " Well, I got me a boyfriend ".    She said, " How did you do that?".  I said, "I turned around in my desk and said, 'You're my boyfriend".  She said, " Well, what did he say? ".  I said, " He didn't say anything. He just slid down in his desk and pulled his jacket over his head! "

 MAIL ORDER CHICKS

This cold snap reminds me of a happening from my childhood.  Back-in-the-day, baby chickens could be sent through the mail.  My daddy was the assistant post master when a shipment of biddies arrived on Christmas Eve, too late for normal delivery.  Daddy knew that they would freeze to death if left in the post office over Christmas with no heat, so we hand delivered them to their new home.  Lucky ducks!  Oops, they were chickens, not ducks, but what rhymes with chickens?

THE OLD MAN'S MACHINE

Today being National Cotton Candy Day, I must relate the story of what I call "The Old Man's Machine" that happily spins cotton candy given any chance.

A Craigslist Tallahassee listing for a cotton candy machine lured me to a daughter who was selling her dad's antique machine.  He was now in his 90's, dealing with dementia, but still trying to figure out how to keep spinning. She said that that machine had paid for her school's lunchroom air-conditioning and many other projects.  She was my age, 29. (Actually, add 40 years to that.)

The Gold Medal machine has a 4-digit serial number and is different from any other machine that I have ever seen.  I have yet to research it's age, but I'm guessing it to be ~ 50 or 60 years old, perhaps older.   She said that it had been serviced and had some new parts put on it.  

In my fanciful thinking, I imagine that the old man's spirit living on in that machine.  I think of him every time I use it.  It spins the Fairy Floss (cotton candy's original name), with the best of them!  

I remember waiting in line, quarter in hand, at my school's PTA Halloween Carnival, for a stick of cotton candy. The sweet, melt-in-your-mouth elixir set up a lifetime love of the treat.  I now spin that joy for other kids of all sizes and ages.  

Inevitably, one day I'll spin my last stick of cotton candy.  Mayby a trace of Penny's spirit will continue with whoever uses my machines next

CRAYONS

Being raised in a big, old fashioned house with 15' (I think) ceilings, kept me hovering near the heater in the winter.  North Florida winters could get cold!  To entertain myself, I would melt crayons on the side of the heater.  I loved the sight of the melting colors running downward.  The pungent odor it created would reach my mother's olfactory nerves and she would yell, "Are you burning crayons again?!!!"   I'd quit. Until temptation overtook me the next time.  The colors were just too pretty to give it up!  I didn't do that much coloring because my crayons had an alternate use.
 

DRIVER'S ED

When I was young and heavy of foot, the long arm of the law thought it in the best interest of my fellow drivers to slow me down.   They gave me a choice of some stiff monetary consequences or to take the defensive drivers school.  I chose school.  After all, I was a teacher.  I had had plenty of experience with school on both sides of the teacher's desk!

I dutifully went to each required session and what I learned actually changed my driving approach forever. I have driven like the proverbial "little old lady" ever since then.  

Stopped at a red light this morning, I could only detect one other driver who must have gone to that school.  In three lanes of traffic, every driver there, except that one driver and wah, were pulled up close enough to the car in front of them to sniff their exhaust fumes!  

I left room in front of me.   What I learned is to leave a car's length of space, or more, in front of me in case I get rear ended.  By leaving some room , I could potentially save or minimize damage done to my vehicle or myself.

I don't have a moralistic conclusion to this revelation.  I'm just saying, LEAVE SOME DISTANCE BETWEEN YOU AND THE CAR IN FRONT OF YOU AT RED LIGHTS.  And slow down.  That will be $50, please.  :)

Addendum - When you are the closest to the red light, stay back a ways so that you won't be pushed out in the intersection if you get rear-ended.

FORMER STUDENT

A chance encounter with a former student last week made my day!  He recognized me and jogged my memory so that I remembered him as well. From a little seven year old to a 6 foot plus, very handsome, gray haired gentleman was enough change that I wasn't embarrassed not to recognize him, but he definitely recognized me!

He said, "Your hair used to be red!  You made snow cones for the whole school.  One day, you made homemade ice cream for us in class".  We laughed together as we traveled back several decades   Fun memories!

I've run into other former students and this is what they all have in common.  They don't remember that I taught them their multiplication tables or how to read, what they remember are unusual things we did.   

“You taught me how to play the ukulele.". (An enrichment class.)

“You used to make peanut butter fudge for us".  (Yep.  I liked to eat and so did they.)

“I was a sixth grade boy who had my first crush on you." (I had no idea!)

Recently, one showed me his children and another showed me pictures of his GRANDKIDS.  Yikes!.  I also continue to enjoy having many of them as Facebook friends.  Many are in positions of leadership now.  Thirty years of teaching.  Many flashbacks.  Life is good.

--- MORE TO COME --- Check back frequently