GROWING UP IS HARD TO DO.

Sometimes, growing up is hard to do, especially if according to your age, you're supposed to be already grown up.  So many times, we look back at our lives and think, "what were we thinking?"  Getting married at such a young age is not for the faint of heart.    I've often said, if I had it to go over, I would still marry the love of my life, but I wouldn't do it at age 18.    On the other hand, the very essence of my being is now, and always has been, my love for my parents, husband, and children, in good times and bad ones.   It has been quite a ride!

In the early 1960's we moved from Savannah to Jonesboro, Georgia.  Here we started our boys to kindergarten and in 1965 were blessed with the birth of our precious daughter.   Money was tight.  I bought a brand new Singer sewing machine,  on credit from Rich's Department Store,  and with the help of one of my co-workers, learned how to sew just enough to make my new baby girl some sweet little calico pinafores, a red flannel robe for Christmas, and some little dresses.  I worked full time and did all the things every Mother does with a new baby and two rambuncous boys.  My hubby worked long hours, usually six days a week, and we had little family time.    We visited our parents when we could and they visited us when they could.  It was a semi-perfect world in that we had a beautiful family, a nice home, and material things but lived pay check to pay check.   As with any inexperienced young couple, we made good choices and we made some bad ones.  But we survived and didn't give up on each other.

The years in Jonesboro are filled with memories of good friends - life long friends.  We all went to church, the men joined Jaycee's and the women the club for their wives.    We went to company parties and to night clubs which had live bands and we danced the "Twist" until it was time to get the baby sitter home.    Getting a special cocktail dress made for the Holiday season was always a big event for me.   I shopped very carefully for the most beautiful material in my best colors.   One I remember, was an emerald green of peau de soil fabric with a peplum at the waist.    Sometimes, I could find a chiffon one on sale at a local shop and felt like I was really special. We went to restaurants we could afford, and movies at the Fox in Atlanta.  We especially loved going with friends to the Seven Steers upstairs across from the Fox.  This was the 60's version of a sports bar and had delicious hamburgers and Tom Collins in a tall, skinny frosty glass! (Yes, we were young and foolish)   We played bridge, exchanged recipes, went to PTA,  and enjoyed the small town where everything we needed was close by and people knew each other.   One year, there was a reenactment of the Battle of Jonesboro, which drew a very large crowd out in the fields between Jonesboro and Morrow.   Going to see the lighting of the tree at Rich's was always a special family event, as was going to cut down a live tree at Christmas.    Taking a Sunday ride looking at houses we couldn't afford was always a treat.  Life was good. 

One day, as I sat in the car line at Lee Street Elementary School listening to the car radio, a special bulletin interrupted with the news of the shooting of our President, John F. Kennedy.    It was surreal.  I couldn't believe what was happening and quickly collected my boys and drove home to turn on our small black and white television hoping I could get the TV antenna wires on top adjusted so I could see what was actually happening.   Signals were difficult to maintain anywhere, and we were constantly having to move the two steel wires that picked up our stations, but I managed to get a snowy picture and sat down to watch.

As the millions of people watched the chaos in Dallas that day, and for days to come, history was made.    Those of us who witnessed it will never forget.  President Kennedy and his wife Jackie were the icons of the sixty's and we all cried at the loss of him and the heartbreaking picture of her in her pink suit and pill box hat climbing over the top of their limousine.   The pictures played over and over making them indelible in our minds.  And then, just a few days later, I witnessed, on live television, the shooting of Lee Harvey Oswald, the shooter.    The picture of little John, saluting the funeral procession carrying his father's casket is a vision all Americans treasure.  What a sad time in a very volatile world. 

While the nation grieved, Lyndon B. Johnson became the new President of the United States, on Air Force One on it's way back to Washington, D. C.    Perhaps it was about this time, when we realized how life can change without a moment's notice.  Perhaps this is when we grew up.