Buckshots

      My friend and fellow ’68 graduate of Sherman High School, Bobby Ward, and I are the only people I know who have shot themselves in the foot.   It is extremely painful to shoot yourself in the foot and equally embarrassing.          There is simply little pity associated with this type of accident.  Folks assume you were playing around, perhaps doing a “fast draw”, when you blast off a round into your foot.  You then hop around, curse and look rather comical…even though it hurts like blazes.  It is not unlike getting smacked below the belt and dropping to your knees.  The “Funniest Home Videos’ are always showing footage of someone getting hit in the crotch, folding up in pain, while the audience howls with laughter.      I was playing in Sherman’s church softball league one summer and a ball was hit, rocketing off the bat at about 3 feet above the ground, until it connected with my “huevos rancheros.”  I landed on top of 3rd base with a thud and commenced to thrash ar

     I began 9th grade at Piner Jr. High in the fall of ’64, at the old location on King Street.   I had already put in two years at the school and felt I knew the lay of the land.   I got through science in the 8th grade with Mrs. Tocquigny.   I thought she was very nice, even though she did administer her paddle to my precious hiny on numerous occasions.   She always gave me fair warning, didn’t seem to enjoy it and pled with me to keep my yap shut during class as she attempted to mold young minds.      Science in the 9th grade was a totally different experience.  We had a coach as our science instructor.  He brooked no nonsense, nothing normal was funny, he mocked students on a regular basis, had a sadistic streak and did not particularly enjoy teaching or teens.  It appeared he was required to do something in addition to coaching and all the Driver’s Ed. spots were taken.  I felt we had better give this guy a wide berth.  He seemed capable and willing to take someon