The latter part of the 1960's, we made a move back to Swainsboro, our hometown. The boys were in elementary school, grades 2 and 4 and our baby girl was a cute little toddler who captured the hearts of everyone she met. She charmed us all with her cute little mispronounced words. I had control over her attire then and she was dressed in leotards and smocks and bows in her hair when I could get them to stay there. The crotch of the leotards resided somewhere around her knees. She would later rebel and to this day, would rather be hog tied, than to wear leggings, panty hose, or bows.
When I started working, I enrolled Teresa in Mrs. Canady's Day Care, the most sought after place for day care in the whole town. Mrs. Canady ran her little day care school out of her home on South Green Street and she ran a tight ship. A staunch Christian woman, with short hair and coal black eyes, she had two black eyed little girls and a little boy of her own that mixed right in with the others. Sometimes, Mr. Canady was there to help with the "herd." All children were taught table manners, respect, sharing, and courtesy. She would gather them all around her kitchen table for nutritious snacks and meals, which she prepared herself. Each meal began by blessing the food and she often told Bible stories during this quiet time around the table. When my daughter was just four years old, in her own version of English, she could recite the entire books of the Bible. Oh, how the parents and the children loved this woman!
Jim ad Tim were part of the transitional years of desegregating all schools. It was a very difficult time for all families making the adjustments of changing school locations, particularly when it meant children were being moved from the schools that probably their parents had attended, and in their comfort zone. I remember that schools actually closed for a while in order to transition the children from buildings to buildings. To say is was chaotic, would be an understatement. It was new territory and the air was tense.
One day, I received a call at work from the school that Tim was missing.! WHAT? Of course, I was frantic and jumped in the car to rush over to the new school location across town. Tim was nowhere to be found. We lived miles from the school location and the Administration was very upset about a child "escaping" from school, but they were not nearly as upset as I was for them letting him "escape." And "APB" went out at school for Tim searching every nook and cranny of the building. I started to drive slowly along the route from school toward our home taking the logical route and that of the school bus. About halfway home, I spotted my sweaty, dusty, and dirty little boy with his ever present shirttail flagging in the wind, hustling his way down the road toward home. I didn't know whether to kiss him or kill him! He allowed as to how "the desk stunk!" Oh Lord!
These two little guys knew no fear other than their Momma. Jim, managed to slice open his finger while whittling a golf ball and tried unsuccessfully to hide the bloody wound from me. (Guess he figured he didn't want to hurt in too many places.) Other than his OCD about his "stuff," he was very neat and marched to his own drum. I could count on him coming home from school looking fairly close to the way he did when I sent him to school. Tim, not so much. Curious to see what would happen, they once doused a frog with gasoline (which we thought was carefully stored) and lit a match (which I have no idea came where it came from) watching the helpless frog jump across the road. Not sure if this was the day that the broom sage caught fire, but a good neighbor helped me put out the flames with the garden hose before the whole town was in on the deed and the fire department showed up. I remember crying buckets of tears over this one, 'cause I just knew I was raising a couple of monsters.
Sol worked for a new local manufacturing company that made webbing for folding lawn chairs, a popular item during that era. Plastic was an upcoming new medium, and this company has quite a large factory with new equipment made in Germany. The process is called "extrusion" - meaning that the machine took in the raw material on one end and extruded it the other end. Sounds pretty simple, but actually is a very complex process and requires a lot of mechanical and technical ability and expertise. The average person has no idea how most of the items made of plastic are actually produced and the precision required to produce it. Some of those machines could fill a house!
Reifenhauser US Sales Company, a fairly new company, had offices in downtown New York City. They sold the equipment made by the parent company in Germany, and their personnel installed and initiated the start up operation for their customers throughout the United States and Canada. They knew a good thing when they saw it. Sol had all the qualifications they wanted and they offered him his dream job. This was the beginning of a career in the plastic industry offering him new opportunities, rare experiences, dreams, headaches, and heartaches. In January 1970, United Van Lines packed us up and moved us to our new home in a small town that seemed like the end of the earth. Mendham, New Jersey!
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