After trying door to door sales and I don’t know what else, Dad finally found a job that suited him well, working as a surveyor for a small construction firm. I’m not sure why we moved but the new job prompted a new home. We collected all our worldly goods and moved down state to a farm outside of Clayton.
The place was originally a log cabin that had been added onto. The kitchen and dining area were in the log cabin. Richard and I slept in the attic bedroom over the kitchen. Susan’s bedroom was upstairs in the addition. The living room was downstairs in the addition. The rest, who knows?
Carol and I drove by the place and took pictures while we were in Delaware for my class reunion in 2006. Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I’ve included one of the house. It hadn’t changed much in the 50 years since we lived there. The trailer and RV and the other buildings were new. It appears that since then the house has been torn down. I can’t find a trace of it in Google Earth.
Clayton had a grade school but wasn’t big enough to warrant a high school, so I went to John Bassett Moore Secondary School in Smyrna. My class doubled in size from the one in Blue Eye. JBM has since become an intermediate school, and the new high school was built on the edge of town. I’m sure that the new classes are bigger than 76 students.
My recollections of school there are strangely limited – more the people than the school events. You might remember my description of trying to learn to drive while on Guam. When I turned sixteen I was in no hurry to start driving. I waited for driver ed class to get my time behind the wheel. Passing the class meant I got my license without taking a driver test.
Sometime after getting my license, I started going to VFW (I think) sponsored dances. I spent most of my time just standing around and listening. However, there was a girl in the class of ’57, Gayle, who had caught my eye. As far as I was concerned she was the prettiest girl in the whole school. I wanted desperately to dance with her, but I couldn’t work up the nerve to ask her.
After about six futile evenings at the dances, I used Dad to help me take action. I told him what the situation was asked him for an ultimatum: if I didn’t ask her to dance the next time I went, I couldn’t take the car any more. It worked, but it wasn’t easy and it was only one dance.
The most defining thing about living in Clayton was my introduction to the Civil Air Patrol. Reynolds Jones, the local commander, and a state police captain who lived in Clayton (I wish I could remember his name) started a cadet squadron. They recruited in the high school and met in the National Guard armory (I think – I admit that my lack of memory is frustrating). Reynolds had a farm on the east side of the highway. He had a runway and a Piper Cub, and part of cadet training was to fly with him or the captain who had a Cessna 140 or 120 (again, I think). I immediately fell in love with flying. The captain introduced me to stalls and recoveries. Reynolds introduced me to cross country flying.
Part of our training included a “TDY” to Grenier AFB in New Hampshire. We got to spend time on a real Air Force base and sample real Air Force duties. A group of CAP cadets from all over Delaware flew up to Grenier in an Air Force airplane (either a C-47 or a C-54). I spent part of my time there helping in the mess hall, more learning the ropes than KP. I also got a tour in the paint shop (where the paint fumes irritated my nose and throat) and part of supply. We took advantage of the base movie theater and watched a war movie. I believe it was To Hell and Back, Audie Murphy’s autobiography starring Audie as himself.
By the time I had reached high school, especially in Smyrna, I had learned one important thing about myself. I could overcome some of my shyness by changing my behavior each time I moved. There was something about my new acquaintances not already knowing that I had a specific behavior programmed into me that made it easier to modify that behavior. My junior year I made an attempt at a quantum leap in behavior modification by trying out for the school play. It was probably the toughest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I can still remember it.
I was standing in the wings with some other students who were also trying out. The previous student had left the stage, and it seemed as if we had been waiting forever. Then I heard the dreaded word, “Next!” I looked around. Everyone was pointing at me. I swallowed hard, squeezed my script, and walked out onto the stage. It was brightly lit, completely empty, and enormous – at least, it seemed that way at the time. Looking over the footlights I could see my audience: the director and assistant director of the play, the school’s two English teachers. Talk about feeling alone! “Mr. Savage, it says here that you’ll be reading for the part of Arthur (or whoever). Is that correct?”
I nodded my head.
“Very well, proceed.”
I read my lines fairly well – not as well as I would have liked, but fairly well. I answered some questions, and I was beginning to feel pretty good about myself. Then the director asked me for a stage whisper. A stage whisper? I didn’t have the foggiest idea what a stage whisper was. The try-out went downhill from there. By the time they got around to asking me to laugh, I was already giggling hysterically. That whole episode was embarrassing. I had known it would be, but I stepped onto the stage anyway. Unfortunately, I had gotten out of my comfort zone and into my panic zone. Needless to say, I didn’t get the part.