All things considered, I was born in the year of 1922. I had nothing to do with the date that I was born. Those questions were settled by my parents. As it turns out, I was born the seventh child to a family who tended to the fortunes of the Lilac Roost Farm. It was a dairy farm so from the beginning I knew all about cows.
I did not mean to tell you about my birth. As it so happens to a person born in 1922, he will arrive at the age of six in the year of 1928. So my first proposition to the members of Mrs. Briber’s class would have to do with arithmetic. I suppose that arithmetic or some variation is still being taught in the schools of our town. Now take the current year of 2011, which should be written down as the top number, and underneath that with a minus sign should be written 1928. And then there should be a line drawn under those two numbers. If my memory is correct, if we subtract 1928 from 2011, the answer is 83 years. This is not to tell you how old I am. It is to tell you about Miss Brantley, my first-grade teacher who was the moving force behind this presentation.
The Clayton public school system was located in a suburban territory located right next to St. Louis. At that time, St. Louis was the eighth largest city in the United States. Also, at that time, there was no such thing as kindergarten and pre-K was simply out of the question. And so it was I enjoyed my childhood, often helping my brothers and my father milk some cows. When September came in 1928, I was enrolled in the first grade class presided over by Miss Brantley.
She was a kindly woman, as I recall it, with gray hair and a lovely demeanor. On my first day in school, I felt the need to go to the bathroom. Remember now that I could not read or write. So I wandered down the hall until I came to a large opening and went in to see what bathroom facilities might exist. In an instant, Miss Brantley had gathered me in her arms and led me out of the bathroom. She explained that this was the girls’ bathroom and not the boys’ bathroom. She took me next door and showed me that the boys’ bathroom had block letters pasted on the outside. She had me trace the “B” in boys so I would know where I should go to the bathroom. So now I know how the boys’ bathroom is spelled but I always check to this day to see whether I’ve got the right bathroom.
There is one other story about Miss Brantley. Every morning we were happy to sing her a song. The song was:
Good morning to you,
Good morning to you.
We’re all in our places
With sunshiny faces.
Good morning, Miss Brantley,
Good morning to you.
That is a lovely song that I have remembered all of these years.
It was Miss Brantley who taught me that when I had the answer to a question, I should raise my hand and then she might call on me. This is a civilized way of doing things without kids shouting at the teacher that they have the answer. But now an adjustment has to be made because I am blind. That is why I wear these sunglasses and why I carry a white cane to let people know that I am blind.
Blindness is not catching. In my case, it is a hereditary trait in my family. My father was blind and I suspect that his father was also blind. My older brothers were blind, and now for the past six years blindness has come to me. Of course I am unhappy that blindness now has come to me but like all other blind people, I have to play the hand that I have been dealt. Blindness does not detract from my friendships or from enjoying a good meal. Simply put, it is a hereditary disease called glaucoma. Now that you know about why I will not call on you if you raise your hand in response to a question I should ask, I will now tell you about how it is done in the American army.
Every morning in the army they would call the roll – they would say, “Joe Smith” or “John Jones.” Now instead of answering by saying “Here,” the fellows I was with in the American army would say in a loud voice, “Ho!” So today if you have any questions that you want to call my attention to, you should not raise your hands but you should say, “Ho!” And I expect you to deliver the hos with a lot of enthusiasm and exuberance.
Well, so much for the preliminaries about what I wanted to say to you today. Somewhere around the year 2000, it became obvious that men who fought in World War II were dying with great frequency. There were some occasions when the death toll would be fourteen hundred every month. So the Library of Congress asked some veterans including me to record our thoughts before it was too late. So what I would like to read to you today are the thoughts that I recorded in the year 2000. Rather than to tell the Library of Congress what I did during the war, I elected to tell them about four other soldiers who were known to me with whom I had a great friendship. In order, they are Ashby Vaughan, Bernie Wheeler, Dave Weiss, and Don Meier. All of those men were killed in action during the war. I thought that rather than telling the Library of Congress what I did, the memory of these four guys should take priority over what I did in my army service.
Here is the story about the four men who were my friends and were killed in the war.
*PLAY VIDEO.* [Editor’s note — Judy, could I get a copy of this somehow? Do you still have it? The YouSendIt file service may be of help.]
Next Monday I believe that there will be no school. There will be a holiday called “Memorial Day” on which we celebrate the contribution of men who died in service. On Monday and for all the days thereafter, I hope that you will keep in mind the sacrifices made by Ashby Vaughan, Bernie Wheeler, Dave Weiss, and Don Meier. I believe that truly we are all standing on the shoulders of those who were killed in fighting our wars. When Monday comes, I hope that you will give some thought to the fellows that I have mentioned today. They were brave men and, as I have said, they were good men.
As you can see, I remember the name of my first grade teacher. I remember Miss Brantley, my first grade teacher, after all of these years. I also remember Miss Jones, Miss Williams and her sister named Miss Williams, Miss Dawes, and others who taught me so many years ago. I expect that over the years all of you will remember the names of your teachers here at Glenwood School.
Now before I go, I wish to call attention to the fact that there are some actions on the part of the Brownies at this school who honored me. I think it was three years ago that my wife answered the door to find a youngster asking if a veteran lived in this house. She told her that that was the case, at which the student from Glenwood School handed my wife a present. This happened on two subsequent occasions.
I was absent for three years or more during my service with the American army. I never expected to be thanked for that service. Even my own family never thanked me, nor did I expect them to thank me. Simply put, it was my duty to serve in the American army. If I had failed to do that duty, my parents would be disgraced. So I served my term of more than three years in the American army and thought not much about it. But on those three occasions when the Brownies of this school called on me with presents that marked my service, I wish to tell you that I was humbled that the Brownies from this school had taken the occasion to thank me for that service which occurred about 60 or 70 years ago.
So we wind up where we started, with an arithmetic problem. My service took place starting in 1942, and if you subtract that from 2011, it is about 69 years ago. My wife did the arithmetic for this question, so I have no responsibility for its accuracy.
Again, I thank you for the invitation to speak to you as Memorial Day approaches. And if you remember Ashby Vaughan, Bernie Wheeler, Dave Weiss, and Don Meier, I will be happy that you have done so.
E. E. CARR
May 27, 2011
Essay 552
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Kevin’s commentary: The mental image of a bunch of little kids yelling “Ho!” at Pop to ask him questions is adorable, and I won’t hear anything to the contrary. The idea that Pop sang them a good morning song is a close second.
I hope to have a way to publish the video in question soon. I’ll put up a post to update readers on this occurrence, should this happen.