Two of my granddaughters are graduating from the second grade this month. This realization produced a major flashback of my own graduation from second grade at Jefferson Elementary in Sherman, Texas, in May of 1958.
The last day of class we received our graduation certificates in a ceremony, followed by a picnic on the school grounds. As we gathered our sack lunches, I saw a vacant seat at the table, adjacent to CAROL ANN COFFEE! I had spent the entire school year worshipping Carol Ann Coffee from afar. She was always pleasant, but didn’t really give me much thought. I often sat on a bench during lunch watching her play or jump rope, daydreaming she would ask me to play with her. Not unlike Charlie Brown from “Peanuts” who imagined the little red-hair girl paying attention to him, I was transfixed with Carol Ann
Now, as the second grade was coming to a close and my family and I were about to move to the Bryant School attendance area on north Wood Street, I felt I would never see her again for the rest of my life. I raced to the empty spot on the bench and parked next to her. I felt light-headed and almost giddy with joy as I began unpacking my sack lunch with the rest of the children. I managed a quick glance to the right to get a glimpse of this goddess and found she was looking at me and (gulp) smiling.
Carol Ann Coffee said, “Good Morning Bucky, it’s nice to see you. Will you do me a favor?”
“YOU BET!”
“Will you move so Stanley can sit there?”
I felt like I had been hit by lightening. I gathered up my lunch, shoved it back into my paper bag and staggered away, tears welling up in my eyes. I got to the edge of the school and leaned against the wall, as I fought to breathe through a throat that felt like someone was squeezing it shut. I was afraid I was going to get sick and I didn’t know how I was going to be able to continue to stand erect.
At that moment our student teacher from Austin College (I can’t believe I cannot remember her name) came to me and put her arm around my shoulder. Every boy in class worshipped this coed. She was pretty, smelled good and had a lovely figure. She aspired to go into elementary education and the time in our classroom was part of her curriculum.
This angel must have detected my misery and had to be aware of the impact she had on all the seven-year-old boys. She leaned down to me, tied my shoes and asked if I would be her date for the picnic. She had a blanket, fried chicken and said she wanted to spend time with me before the end of the school year. WHANG! I was in love.
She spread out her blanket, organized the food and poured us Kool-Aid into Dixie cups. ALL the boys and most of the girls were watching me with envy and I saw Carol Ann Coffee stealing glances, which I liked to think were looks of remorse for letting me get away. (I didn’t really believe it, but it was comforting to imagine.) This young woman saved my dignity and turned a horrible moment into the best picnic I had experienced in my seven years of life. We talked about her desire to teach and her hope to have students like me, where ever she was assigned. We talked about my career plans of either being a garbage man or a cowboy. I still hadn’t made up my mind. I loved the cowboy image, but riding on the back of that garbage truck looked pretty cool, too. All in all, it was a heavenly lunch and I was ready to propose marriage to this angel.
She thanked me for my company, we cleaned up, she kissed me on the top of my head and I floated back to class. As I saw Carol Ann Coffee, she suddenly seemed immature and just a little girl.
NOW…time marches on, twenty-one years passed and I was what was called National Director of Marketing at Simon. This meant I was responsible for the advertising and marketing in the Simon portfolio of malls. We added a few department stores, plus a number of in-line retailers and were hosting a “Re-Grand Opening” of North East Mall in Hurst, Texas. This included major events, advertising and celebrities. I was introduced to the operation's manager of the mall, we chat and he mentions he heard I was from Sherman. His wife is originally from Sherman and her name had been Carol Ann Coffee! WANG! Like an old Indian arrowhead wound to my heart, the pain came alive and rumbled in my chest! I felt myself growing pale and began to weave, as a prelude to passing out.
“Humm…that name does sound familiar…are you bringing her to the mall opening party?”
“Oh yes."
“Well, I’ll see you there”.
She looked as lovely as I remembered, and had developed into a wonderful woman. She had no idea we had ever met, until I mentioned we attended the second grade together. She did go back and found our second grade class photograph, but could not pick me out of the crowd of similar looking, bucktooth boys with jutting ears and burr haircuts. (We did all look alike.)
However, the mall party did afford me closure and my own grand-daughters' second grade graduation stirred up those embers from long ago. It seems the painful experiences of our childhood are much more acute. Perhaps it’s because we haven’t experienced as many in our early years. As they accumulate in our later years, the hurt is not as intense, but when they are resurrected from 21 years ago…THAT pain is still awful and very real.
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