Lee High School - Huntsville Alabama Alumni

This is the final issue of Lee's Traveller for 2003. We have covered a lot of memories in the last 52 weeks, and we hope that next year brings all of us even closer together than we have ever been before. More sand is falliing through the hourglass of our life.

As for me, I have made a lot of new "old" friends. I was especially thankful for the turnout at the Homecoming activities and the dance at Niles' was a particular high point in my fun for the year. I was also very proud of the participation of my classmates in the $1,100 donation to the Lee library.

It's been a busy holiday schedule for all of us. I can tell because of the lack of e-mail I received this week, but I cannot be upset at that. I hope that all of you had a wonderful holiday period. Those of you who have lost a loved one this year, as I did with my mom, were especially in my thoughts.

I had hoped to write a great article on a New Year's Eve, but I also did not have time. As I write these words, I think back on one of my surprise New Year's Eve activities, which happened on December 31, 1964. This was after I graduated from Lee, and was living in Memphis. I came home to Huntsville for New Year's in hope of finding that elusive "great" party that I spent most of my youth seeking like a knight in pursuit of The Holy Grail. Instead I found no party, and ended up going on a blind date with a cousin of a girl that Bob Walker was dating. I remember to this day a statement I made that night. I said "If all blind dates are like this, then I am spoiled." Though I don't know her name now (it is written in another journal I believe) she was cute, and fun and on that night, as the clock struck midnight, to bring in 1965, I had a wonderful kiss from this almost stranger of a great looking girl! That was a different side and a lifetime away from the shy guy who didn't even kiss his senior prom date goodnight.

Of course Bob won't remember this (he has CRS, you know), it is alive in my memories, and I am sure that over the years it has grown in scale and beauty.

To all of you, I wish a Happy New Year, and for you girl's I wish I was there to kiss in the New Year with you as well...Sue might understand! Might not!

T. Tommy

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The Unforgiven

by Collins (CE) Wynn

Class of ‘64

From time to time I re-read some of our earlier articles looking for new ideas on which to write. Recently I reviewed some on Rison and Lincoln Schools and came away with a strong sense of melancholy. You know, not everyone we knew during our school years went on to become upstanding citizens. I was particularly taken with the description of some of the kids at Lincoln School and have inferred from that what a hard existence they must have had. Although I was a ‘Dallas’ kid, I had a strong tie to Lincoln in that my paternal grandparents lived on Maple Street in Lincoln just behind the soda fountain across the street from the school. The kids from there who turned out well have my admiration and respect because they truly fought an uphill battle every day. As a young man in 1968 or 69 I served as a volunteer for Christmas Charities, Inc in Huntsville delivering boxes of holiday food and toys to some needy families. Wouldn’t you just know, my assigned area was the mill village near Lincoln School? It had not changed much (except to deteriorate a little more) from my childhood 12-15 years previous and is probably, if still there now, just that much worse for the wear. I truly pity those who might still be there.

Walt Thomas mentioned to me in an email recently how lucky we all were to come out of our neighborhoods with a good set of morals and ethics in place. For some of us the sense of kinship and accomplishment that athletics brought (high school and before) made all the difference. And our parents, of course, were all genuine, sincere, and hardworking people. I particularly recall Mike Smith’s mom and step dad and Walt Thomas’ mom and grandmother; I claimed them as my own and they were all very, very kind to me in many small ways they would never recall but I cannot forget. I ate so many meals at Mike’s house that I am sure his family claimed me as a dependent. Even today I recall Billy (Mike’s step dad) sitting at one end of the table while his mom stood at the other cracking ice for the tea by holding it in her left hand and hitting it with a spoon. And I also remember Walt’s grandmother - who was a wonderfully different person. None of the kids I knew were financially wealthy but we were all well off emotionally. My wife Judy has often said that poor kids don’t know they are poor until someone tells them later. Even if there was not a lot of money, for some reason there was love, affection, and warmth in all the families I was around. I am convinced that made the difference.

There were only two specific examples of meanness and lowlife I witnessed as a young person. One could have been predicted and the other came from a most unexpected source. Because of his profession, I am sure J.R. is inured to these kinds of stories; just as surely as they continue to cause the rest of us a good deal of discomfort.

First, the predicted one. There was a rough family that lived near the eastern end of Halsey Avenue in Dallas that was known for constantly being into all kinds of serious, serious mischief. I understand, even today, some family members are upholding the tradition by continuing the drug trade in Madison County. I am told they have been in and out of prison and jail many times over the years; I even remember their names but will keep that to myself for now. Their house (such as it was) was the worst on my paper route – concrete block construction with a dirt yard and a cloud of neglect hanging over it all (dirty, filthy, and wore out). I always hated going there to try and collect for my papers. It seemed nastiness and hard times surrounded the place. Even so, some of the family may have managed to rise above it all – I sure hope so. Many of the kids from the Dallas neighborhood will know exactly whom I am speaking of, even though I don’t use names.

The second circumstance may surprise you. Again, I’ll not use names even though the person involved has been deceased for many years – I suppose there is no honor in kicking the dead; what is done is done. Mike Smith and I were out running around his house on Humes Avenue one day when we were 10-12 years old when a kid excitedly ran up to us and shouted “Hey, look at this!” and pulled a wad of currency out of his pocket. When it was all counted he had over $40, a considerable sum for the times not to mention for a 12 year old kid. His story was that a lady was standing in front of the church in the Northwest corner of O’Shaughnessy Avenue and 5th Street (across from the current Mullins) waiting on a bus and had put her handbag on the steps and turned around for a moment. And, you guessed it, this rotten piece of crap for a kid ran up and snatched her purse later taking the $40 and throwing everything else away. It made me physically sick to hear of it – I had visions of my own mother standing there and losing her hard earned money that way. Worse than that this kid had no real need for the money; he was well provided for by his family. Mike and I never talked to him much after that and kept our distance.

But wait…the story is not over. Advance about 15 years and change scenes to a large state of the art (for then) grocery store in the Southeast corner of the intersection at Mastin Lake Road and Pulaski Pike in Northwest Huntsville. Pat Grubis and I had been married a few years and owned a house near there on McEwen Drive – we were in the grocery on Friday evening like many others doing our grocery shopping. As you can imagine, it was crowded and there were people everywhere trying to get checked out. We accumulated a huge buggy full of stuff and went up to the checkout – and, oh my god! It’s the sorry crap kid who stole the purse working at the cash register. In a situation like that the only thing to do is smile and keep moving. We put the groceries on the belt and the guy started manually ringing the items up (as they had to do before scan bars). After a couple of seconds I noticed how strange the amounts looked - $0.03; $0.29; $0.06, etc. It was some moments later when I realized they guy was stealing the store blind by ringing up our groceries for a faction of the real cost. Pat and I looked at each other both wondering what to do. The guy then looked at me, winked and said sweetly “that’ll be $18.02, please” (or some such) for $100.00(+) worth of groceries. The only thing I could think of was to pay the guy and get the hell out of there. I don’t believe we ever went into that store again and I am certain I never saw the guy again. All of which leads me to ask, “What was that kid missing that the rest of us had?” To this day, I do not understand how anyone can be a thief. I know of no other circumstance through high school, college, and military service where any friend of mine ever took anything from anyone. It turns out later I was acquainted with a few thieves but they were not my friends – only politicians.

How truly fortunate we were. As the old saying goes – “There, but for the grace of God, go I”. Some intangible thing made the difference for us; I see it in some of my students every day. There are many reasons why kids turn out well but for many their social circumstance is not one of them. Good kids are good kids regardless of their background.

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