Chapter 01 - Chapman Highway
Dad sold our house on Beechwood Drive, and we moved to a second story upstairs apartment on Chapman Highway in Knoxville, until our new house on Jonquil Lane was finished. It seems like we lived there for several months in 1954. I still went to Beardon elementary in the first grade. We moved to Jonquil Lane in time for me to start 2nd grade at Pond Gap Elementary. We had a large tractor tire sandbox on Beechwood Drive and it didn't make the move. I really liked that sandbox. We had an umbrella style clothesline at Chapman Highway, which I thought was neat. There was a field next door that had a bunch of telephone pole size holes in it about 3 feet deep. I have no idea what they were for, but they were fun to play army in. I also found an old radio there and took all the tubes out of it to collect. Dad was taking a carpentry class and brought home a really nice folding dinner table which is still in the family. I remember him getting it up the stairs with Mother's help. Mother gave me the worst whipping of my life after I misbehaved in the bookmobile in front of the apartments. She told me not to do something again, and I did it anyway. She took me upstairs and pulled down my pants and spanked me with her hand. I think she felt bad about it, as I got many more well deserved spankings, but she never pulled my pants down again. The last time Dad was going to whip me with his belt, I was 15, and I drew up my fists and told him he wasn't going to whip me anymore. He looked at me and resigned himself. I think he was proud of me in a way. I deserved every whipping I ever got, and have no hard feelings about them, including the ones I got in Fletcher High School. I never got paddled in grade school, although I did sit out on the steps a lot in 2nd grade at Riverside Elementary in Hilo.
Once at Chapman Highway, I threw sand in the face of one of my male playmates while we were playing outside. He started crying and went to his apartment. I went to our apartment. Shortly thereafter, his father started beating on our door and yelling. I think he had been drinking. Mother was scared and called Dad at work at Wilson-Weesner-Wilkinson, and he came home. I don't remember if he had to confront the other father or not. This same kid used to come by our door and take my toy dump truck out to play and leave it outside his door. Mother wouldn't let me bring it inside since it was dirty. His mother did the same. The day we moved, I took it from his door, and it went to Jonquil Lane.
