Patuxent - my first time in salt water. Ben Shores, Uncle Will’s son-in-law, took us
out in a fishing boat and we were caught in a squall which scared the dickens out of
us landlubbers. Aunt Lizzie and her daughters Elloise and Willanette prepared a
delicious seafood meal for us. That night our hosts somehow found places to bed us
all in their small house. For me it was not a restful night, what with Foxie’s snoring,
little Wallace Shores’s whooping and the pouring rain. We returned to Cumberland
the next day. That night I went to bed early, thankful for my own private bed.
When I was a teenager, there was one thing, if nothing else, that summer held
for us and that was the Cumberland Fair and Horse Races every August.
Cumberland was blessed with a breathtaking setting for its fairgrounds and race
track - a panoramic view of the nearby West Virginia mountains. I started attending
with family members but by this time I went with my buddies. The main attraction
was the races. Four or five of us would put in 40 or 50 cents to make a $2.00 bet.
We usually bet the favorites, so it wasn’t too hard to get a consensus as to which
horse to bet on. When we won, the generally small profit was even smaller split four
or five ways. That summer, my records show, I played every race and broke about
even. But what an exciting time! To top it off, we stayed after the races for the
carnival, a gross, chintzy affair, palatable only because it was a once-a-year lark.
But then came the big entertainment viewed from the grandstand -tumblers,
jugglers, high divers, etc. The grand climax was an electrifying fireworks display,
the unique feature of which was the bombs’ thunderous reverberations as they
echoed off the mountain wall across the river.
vi - Senior Year, 1938-39
It was a relief to be finished with paper carrying, now that Bob was back to
reclaim his route. But that little pleasure was offset by the unpleasant necessity of
again getting up early five days a week to go to school. Oh well, I was a big Senior
now and this was going to be a glorious, glamorous year. Little did I realize what an
almost impossibly crammed schedule I would have. I had brought it on myself.
Determined to go out in a blast with a big list of activity credits against my name in
the yearbook, I set out to load my extracurricular schedule to the maximum.
On the fourth day back, Miss Mary Sowerby, the yearbook advisor, called me
in and lectured me on the tremendous responsibility and workload I was faced with
as editor of the yearbook. The next day, I tried out for cheerleader, of all things, a
naive move to show an interest in sports even though I was not a jock. I was selected.
Soon Boys’ Glee Club (the name “Alco Revellers" was dropped) rehearsals resumed.
Eventually I would also be singing in the Mixed Chorus. Photography Club: while
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