Chapter 13

THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOOD AND EVIL

(From early January 1965 to the end of Spring Quarter at Auburn University in early June 1966)

Let me now back up a few weeks to about 7 January 1965, the day I first start university classes (higher education), eating of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

I went to Auburn U. to study hard in order to pass my courses in order to graduate and thus obtain a university 4-year degree. I did not go there to play, but rather to study diligently. I thank God for a boyhood of hard labor that made me into a man inclined to work hard.

During my years at Auburn U., I observe other male students (with much more book sense than I) flunk out of college simply because they came here to party and play to the utmost. You know how that a lot of 18 year-olds go wild as soon as they get away from Daddy and Mommy. Why, you might even remember what you did yourself at that age.

Sadly, many parents mistakenly think the greatest blessing they can bestow upon their offspring is a childhood of fun, fun, fun. So they spoil their brats. Then parents tear their hair out and climb the walls as they observe Junior party, party, and party till he flunks out of college. The spoiled brat is simply doing what his foolish vain parents trained him up to do.

This winter quarter at Auburn U., my 3 main courses are English, history and math, each of those being 5 credit hours, each with classes 5 days a week. Physical Education was required for all able-bodied students. I took Basic PE this term, calisthenics, running and such (only 1 credit hour, tho it met 1 hour a day 3 days a week). It was typical to take Basic PE during one’s 1^st term, and also to take Library Science at the start (a required subject) and one this farm boy needed in order to find the books and such I would be searching for in that huge library. So I took Library Science also for 1 credit hour.

Navy ROTC midshipman McKnight ① was in that Basic PE class with me. That puzzled me because he was already a junior. (Most students take the 2 years of required PE during their freshman and sophomore years.) Mac was a gung ho (hard driving) Marine. One day during PE when we did sit-ups, I paired up with Big Mac. (He was a huge guy and tough.) He held my ankles and counted my sit-ups. Then I held his ankles and counted his vigorous sit-ups. He tired down, stopped, and asked me how many he had done. When I told him, he wasn’t satisfied with that count. So he struggled thru a few more sit-ups. I well remember that event with Mac and how he pushed himself to his physical limit.

You see the ① I put after his name. After I left my Vernon boyhood home, McKnight was the 1^st military person I came to know well (I first met him in this PE class) who would be killed on military duty. Here in Navy ROTC, he will take the “Marine option” (just as I will do), and become a Marine officer. Shortly after, Mac will be killed by the enemy in Viet Nam while I am still a student here at Auburn U.

Watch these numbers grow as I list my military buddies who were killed in battle in Viet Nam, or who died in a plane crash while piloting the plane, or as navigator of the plane. Seeing much such violent death around me during my military days makes me most thankful to God to be alive now in my old age. A good number of close military buddies never made it to old age, but met with a violent death early on.

Navy ROTC was 3 credit hours, but it met 5 days a week, 1 hour each day. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday: a 1-hour class each day. Tuesday: drill (marching practice) session out on the drill field. Thursday: lab session, learning and practicing various jobs Navy personnel do, like tracking enemy submarines.

The “nature” of the ROTC study was the only subject “foreign” to this country boy. In high school, I had studied things similar to all my other subjects this 1^st term. But now I have to seriously buckle down and study harder in all these “university level” subjects. The military content of ROTC was completely new to me. Several of my ROTC classmates were military kids whose dads were career military officers (much different from my Daddy’s status in life). Thus, they were as familiar with military (in general) as I was with farming (very).

“And during your freshman year, you stood out like a scarecrow among your fellow midshipmen on campus.”

‘Of a truth, I shorely did.’

But ROTC was my main interest at Auburn U. I was taking all the other required subjects mainly for the simple purpose of gaining a college degree that was necessary to become a Marine officer. I planned to use my military learning for a few years after college, hopefully as a military jet pilot. So I threw myself wholly into Navy ROTC, highly motivated with much interest in it. I am now a Navy midshipman, just like all those midshipmen at the Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. To put it simply, I greatly enjoyed university life and was so glad to have arrived at this plateau.

Toward the end of January, Tommy (my friend from Vernon) came to me. “Friday afternoon, I’m going to Vernon for the weekend. Do you want to ride along? I will leave my car in Vernon and ride back to Auburn with Jimmy (my high school classmate). He has room for you to also ride back to Auburn with us Sunday afternoon.”

I had not planned to go home during the winter quarter. But with this invitation, the urge to go home to Vernon for a weekend rose up in me. So I rode there with Tommy that Friday afternoon, just us 2 in his car. Riders each paid the driver $2 each way for the ride. Gasoline was about 33 cents a gallon. So $2 could put 6 gallons of fuel into the driver’s tank. Quite a help to a college boy driver! I arrived home that Friday night, enjoyed the weekend at home and at church, and on Sunday mid-afternoon, 4 of us left Vernon in Jimmy’s car and returned to Auburn. The 4^th person was a girl from Sulligent.

Likely it was in early February when I drove my car into the nearest gas station in Auburn on a Saturday morning. ‘Look at my left front tire. Would you please take it off the wheel, turn it over, and put it back onto the wheel. You see the tire is wearing badly on 1 side. So I need to reverse the tire and let it wear down on the other side.’

The attendant (listening to this plan of mine spawned from my poverty) was a masculine boisterous guy about 40 years old. He laughed boisterously and called out loudly in laughter to his fellow worker. “Hey, he’s gonna alien his car’s front end by turning the tire around!”

His fellow worker also laughed at me. So my poverty put gaiety into both of their lives that morning. The charge for turning that tire around was likely about $3. Front-end alignment was probably over $20 in 1965. So my poverty took the cheapest route.

It was plenty embarrassing for those older men to laugh at me in that manner. So, by God’s grace, I try not to laugh at poor people put into extenuating circumstances by poverty. Instead I try to encourage such souls in the Lord and give unto them as God leads me and enables me to do. You should do likewise.

No need to further detail my 1^st term studies at Auburn U. Thank God I pass all my courses and head to Vernon after mid-March to be there about a week during spring break.

My room rent at Auburn was either $40 or $45 for all of winter quarter (almost 2 and half months). That included all utilities. One term’s (quarter’s) tuition was $75. Total for textbooks was about $40. I would buy used textbooks (cheap) when I could find them. So add up those 3 expenses to an approximate total of $160 for basic costs for one university term (one/third of an academic year). You present-day university students will think I left a “zero” off each of the above numbers. But, NO, I didn’t make any mistake there. You might well say that those were the Good Old Days.

Both Freddy from Sulligent and Alton from Hamilton (each with no car) rode home with me. My car trunk and back seat area was packed full with our belongings and we all three sat in the front seat for the 5 hour trip. I took those 2 guys to Freddy’s house in the rural Fairview community near Sulligent. I think Alton called some family member to drive there from their house about 15 miles away and take him home. Alton and Freddy had known each other at Auburn U. over 3 years.

During the winter quarter at Auburn U., a Navy medical team came to campus to give an annual physical examination to each midshipman. Thank God I was in good physical condition, except…“You’ve got a lot of cavities. You need much dental work. You must get it done to be a midshipman.” The Navy would not pay for it. I would have to.

In childhood poverty, at times I had no toothbrush. At times there was no toothpaste in the house. Daddy and Mother briefly trained each of us children to brush our teeth when we each were small. But after Mother died, soon Daddy left that business entirely up to us kids, not seeing to it that we brushed our teeth regularly. I think there were times when I would go for days without brushing my teeth. When cavities formed and then soon pained me enough to keep me awake nights, I usually suffered in silence knowing Daddy had no money for dentists.

(Parents, if you do not communicate sufficiently with your kids, the natural result will be them refraining from communicating with you to the extent of even keeping painful suffering secret from you. That is a painful truth.)

So, upon coming to Vernon on this 1^st spring break, I start driving to a dentist in Sulligent (several visits). The first time he looked into my young mouth he sort of let out a gasp of horror at the many decayed teeth. A lower tooth on each side near the back had to be pulled (2 teeth). Too far gone for the dentist to repair. The large cavity in each of those teeth had pained me so much until the nerves in each tooth rotted away leaving them dead. Lord, help all parents to do better toward their little ones in such painful matters of health.

So, when I soon head back to Auburn to begin spring quarter, I had 2 fewer permanent teeth at 19 years of age and the dentist’s paperwork of the repair work to give to Lt. France (as proof of the work) for him to insert into my midshipman file.

The girl from Sulligent (who had ridden with us before in Jimmy’s car) now asked to ride back to Auburn with me this time. So she did. Arriving safely at Auburn, I dropped her off at her dorm, went on to the same rooming house as last term, and back into my same private room. I felt at home, and it was good to be back. I was tired from the 5-hour drive after sitting in a dental chair much over the past week as the dentist worked hard to overcome more than 10 years of neglected dental care. I went to bed early to leave for the dining hall the next morning before 7 AM.

At the end of the winter quarter, cafeteria student boss Clem (a senior student) left campus to do his “student teaching” at a high school during this spring quarter and then he will graduate. Another senior, Alton from Hamilton (25 miles north of Vernon) (who rode home with me) became student boss. Alton had no car at Auburn. He rode back yesterday with a different friend. As I am about to leave my rooming house in my car for the cafeteria, Alton shows up walking from his rooming house farther away. “Let me ride with you.” OK. Then as he and I walk up to my car, he spots it first. “Your right front tire is flat.” So we 2 poor country boys walked together as fast as we could to the dining hall (about half a mile away) trying to get to work on time.

In my poverty, I would run my tires till there was no tire left remaining between the air inside the tire and the universe of air outside the tire.

Thank Thee, Lord Jesus, for keeping me safe thru my poverty-induced dangerous lifestyle.

Spring quarter. The next math course and the next English course, and English literature were my three 5-hour credit courses. I chose “Track and Field” for PE (1-hour credit). Three hour Navy ROTC made for 19 hours. Spring atmosphere was so pleasant on campus. Passing each mealtime in the ladies’ cafeteria (eating a full meal and serving meals to the lovely co-eds) was a happy social life and the most pleasant part of campus life for me.

Back near the start of the winter quarter, the ROTC unit issued me Navy midshipman uniforms. While growing up in farm boy rags, with envy I would look at Boy Scouts, Vernon’s football, basketball, and baseball players in uniform, longing to wear a uniform because it looked sharp and would identify me with that “elite” group. Thus it was a joy to me to get a midshipman’s uniforms. I was not allowed to wear them much during the winter quarter while they taught this newcomer to drill separately from all the other midshipmen as they drilled. But now I start wearing the uniform each time my fellow midshipmen do, Tuesdays and Thursdays and special occasions. This redneck farm boy now dresses like a midshipman at the U.S. Naval Academy!

“Vanity of vanities. All is vanity.”

Navy Lieutenant France instructs us freshmen midshipmen. Next year, I will have a different instructor. During this spring quarter, Lt. France gets promoted to Lieutenant Commander and is transferred away from Auburn U. at the end of the spring quarter. He is an outstanding Navy officer. To briefly state a most important factor in my life, I owe much to Navy Lieutenant France.

The military wisely picks their finest men to train the newcomers such a privates, sailors, airmen (enlisted men), midshipmen, cadets, 2^nd lieutenants and such. Upon 1^st meeting me, Lt. France saw that I knew nothing pertaining to military life. But in his alertness he readily perceived that I was a solid, honest, dedicated, hard worker, and thus was trainable to be made into a good Navy or Marine officer. He gave me valuable tips I needed in my farm boy ignorance and greatly encouraged me in a somewhat stern manner. He earned much respect from me. I am glad that he came into my life at that time. I am most thankful for his help and positive input into my life. I am deeply indebted to Navy Lieutenant Commander France. He did much to instill in me confidence, that it was possible for even me to become a military officer. I hope his descendants read this.

Delightful spring quarter ends in early June. I pack all my belongings into my 1955 Chevy and move out of the grand ol’ house at 174 Burton Street for good. I don’t recall exactly why I decided to permanently vacate that room. I think they had plans to tear down that old house and told all us boys we had to vacate. I cherish my memories of my first five months of lodging at Auburn in my private room in that stately old house.

I drive alone from Auburn to Daddy’s house. It felt good to be back at my childhood home with 2 quarters of university studies completed. Just 2 days or so ago, I got a letter from my sister telling me our Grandmother Yerby had died. I didn’t think I would get home in time for her funeral. Arriving at Daddy’s farmhouse, “Grandmother’s funeral is tomorrow,” my sister announced to me. They held it for her youngest child (my Uncle James) to come from afar where he was stationed in the Army. The next day I attend her funeral where I see most of Daddy’s family. It was nice to visit with them all.

I unload my few “college things” out of my car into our (boys’) bedroom and immediately start roofing for Mr. Mars.

Mr. Rowland offered me the crop acreage-measuring job again this summer. But after seriously considering it, I declined it. Last year, at times, that job put me in a tight spot between the government office that I worked for and the country farmers who were of a different opinion on matters concerning their farms. I didn’t want to put myself into that “vise” again. Last summer (and again in the late fall taking that census) I ever so greatly enjoyed going into every rural nook and cranny of my assigned district of work in Lamar County on those 2 jobs I have described to you, learning much of folks in my home county. But now I have no desire to repeat any of that. I think this decision was of the Lord. This summer, I will start working in places more distant, making for new adventure.

Mr. Mars is now putting a new roof on the flat roof of Vernon Grammar School. I shovel and sweep the gravel off that roof and mop on black gum and later brush on aluminum paint.

Later I brush the black gum onto Mrs. Mace’s gabled shingle roof near Daddy’s house. Her farmhouse was vacant at the time. Working alone on that steep roof with no other soul around, I accidentally stepped into the fresh slick gum in front of me on the downward side and started sliding down toward the roof’s edge. Thinking quickly, I sat down on the roof and placed both hands palms down onto the roof. The added traction of both hands and my bottom (along with both feet) arrested my slide before I slid off the roof. I slowly crabbed sideways out of the slick, with black gum stuck to my hands and britches, thankful that I didn’t slide off the roof. I had no idea that many years later (1993) I would buy this house and farm, the Mace place.

I work other roofs in Lamar County, but as Mr. Mars gets work further away, I go where the work is. He wants me as a worker because I’m a diligent worker, thanks be to God and to Daddy who worked me hard as I grew up. And I want his pay to apply to my college expenses.

When Mr. Mars gets a gym roof in Centerville, Alabama, over 80 miles away, he takes 2 other guys and me (1 of them at a time) from Vernon to brush the black gum onto the roof. He searches for the cheapest room available and finds a room for $1 per person per night. It’s in a large old house where some old people live. It’s a quaint place to shower and sleep. (We workers eat all our meals in cafés.)

Late one night when I’m the only worker lodging in that old house, people talking awaken me. A neighbor lady had come there and she was talking to the old man who lived there. “I’m running and hiding from my husband because if he catches me drunk like this, he will beat me terribly! He’s looking all around for me! Hide me!” She hid in a closet.

Soon we hear her husband’s voice as he walks thru people’s yards, calling his wife’s name as he searches for her. He comes to this house and asks the old man. “Have you seen (Lily)?”

“No, I haven’t seen anything of her, (John).” He lied ever so calmly.

“Where could she be?” (John) murmurs as he walks on.

She comes out of the closet, whispers with the old man as they peep outside watching her husband search for her. Later she snuck back into her house. Oh, the things that people do.

Superintendent of Education (Mr. Moore) in Vernon introduced Mr. Mars to retired Mr. Esker who lives in Vernon and is a member of the same church as Daddy. So I know Mr. Esker well from church. This summer, Mr. Esker begins to work under Mr. Mars as a sub-contractor. He’s retired and financially comfortable. But he welcomes something to do and he enjoys seeing money roll in. He has a keen business mind and doesn’t care for it being idle in his retirement.

In late summer 1965, I ride with Mr. Mars and Mr. Esker to Ft. Walton Beach, Florida where Mr. Mars works up an estimate to do the roofs of a few beach cottages a Vernon lawyer owns there. (Esker had talked to the Vernon lawyer who was Esker’s long-standing acquaintance in our small town.) This is the first time for me to see the ocean in my life of over 19 years. ‘Vast, beautiful, majestic and great in power!’ That was somewhat my impression of the Gulf of Mexico. Truly it was an impressive sight to behold an ocean for the 1^st time, such a great creation of God. We 3 men made that trip from Vernon and back in 1 day in Mr. Mars’ car. A long and wearying day it was. It was well after midnight when I got into my bed in Daddy’s house.

The lawyer in Vernon gave Esker the job to re-roof his few cabins on Ft. Walton Beach. I am to go help. We start that work about 2 weeks before I have to be at Auburn U. in September 1965. So, as I prepare to leave Daddy’s house for university, I pack up my college things into my 55 Bel Air and drive it all the way to Ft. Walton Beach, Florida. Esker and wife drive down from Vernon bringing 1 man worker. We 4 lodge in 1 of the empty cottages and start the work. Esker’s wife cooks our meals 3 times a day and washes our dirty work clothes.

I thrill to gaze on the ocean, feel the ocean breeze and smell the salty air daily as I work on the cabins’ roofs. Adventure! When Sunday comes, I take the other man in my car and we find a church to attend. That afternoon, I swim in the ocean for the 1^st (of many times) time in my life. That afternoon swim felt good! I do like swimming in the ocean!

Shortly before the next Sunday arrives, I take all my pay, leave the roofing work with those guys, and drive from Ft. Walton Beach, Florida northeast to Auburn for the start of fall quarter around 21 September 1965. It was a thrilling adventure, to lodge free on the beach for a week, swimming in the ocean, and earning daily wages to boot, observing the ocean as I worked. From this summer until after mid-September 1969 (four weeks after I graduate from Auburn U.), I will have the privilege of traveling to a large variety of places as I work for Mr. Mars. It will become a rich experience and adventure, thank God!

I greatly desired to be located away from my father’s house and try to forget all its toils. Therefore I didn’t want to measure crop acreage in Lamar County this summer. I’m now happy that Mr. Mars’ roofing work is also moving out of Lamar County.

My boyhood farm friend Justus (whose family lived more than a mile down the road past Daddy) is a student at Auburn. Justus and I had hunted and fished together growing up. He is 3 years older than I. During this summer Justus had said to me, “Let’s room together at Auburn this fall.” OK. He looked for a room for us and found one on the 2^nd floor of Tiger Lodge, 355 South College Street, across South College Street from the new science building on campus. (I forgot its name.) Tiger Lodge was conveniently located quite near the girls’ dining hall where Justus and I both work. I think we each paid $55 room rent for the fall quarter and roomed together in one room.

The cafeteria in which Justus and I work had been built recently (as well as the new complex of co-ed dorms it served) on the hill (a gentle rise) at the south edge of the campus. The old complex of co-ed dorms was now approximately in mid campus and each of those old dorms was numbered from Number 1. Thus, these new dorms were lettered from A, B, C.

Back in the winter and spring when I worked in the cafeteria, Dorms A, B, and C housed girls and Dorms D, E, and F were under construction. Each dorm is 3 stories high. This fall term, all 6 of these dorms house co-eds. So a 2^nd serving line is installed in the dining hall. Back during spring term, Alton was student boss and supervised us who worked on that 1 serving line and the guys who worked the dishwasher. Now, in addition to Boss Alton, 2 student line supervisors, 1 for each serving line, are to be assigned. Alton asks me to be 1 of the line supervisors. I accept. Now, this job pays me $1 per day in addition to my 3 meals.

Young guy or girl, perk up your ears now and pay sharp attention. Sophomore, junior, and senior guys work in this cafeteria. But I, a 3^rd term freshman, am promoted to line supervisor in preference to those older guys. Why such a young guy? Because most of the guys there were spoiled brats who would not work right, tho they were able to do so. So the short (but important) moral of this short story is this, if you want the best job, then simply do the best work, diligently, honestly, and faithfully. $1 a day pay (above meals) might sound trifle to you now. But cost of living was much lower then. That monthly check of $30 or so was a big help to poor me and to the worn out tires on my car and such.

The university president’s mansion is between Tiger Lodge and this cafeteria. At the start of each fall term, he gives all the new freshmen students an outside supper on his spacious lawn. He and his wife stand in reception, shaking hands with and greeting each freshman student in line as they filed into the table area. I wasn’t here for it last fall. And I don’t “receive” that supper this term, tho I’m still a freshman, because our cafeteria prepares this meal each year and we student cafeteria workers serve it. So I help serve it. That was a fun evening out there on the immaculate lawn of President Philpot’s white mansion, one of my first events upon arriving back at Auburn U. from the beach. I’m ever so glad to be back on campus, climbing higher on the ladder of success, after summer’s hot roofing work.

I so much enjoy the fall term campus atmosphere as the hot weather turns mild in October and stays fairly mild till mid-December or so. The science building right across South College Street from Tiger Lodge has a spacious lawn of thick grass sod. It’s common on Saturday afternoons for some other guy in Tiger Lodge to bang on our door. “Hey, we need a few more guys to make 2 teams!” Justus and I would usually go out at that call to play football on that grassy lawn. Good workout! Fun! Campus life! Refreshing! I like it! Forgetting all the toils of my father’s house!

I take both the fall freshman and fall sophomore Navy ROTC classes this fall, because I wasn’t here last fall. The new freshman instructor who replaced Lt. Commander France is a good Navy officer, but somewhat bland as a person. I don’t recall his name. A new sophomore instructor comes in also, Lieutenant Junior Grade Coates. He is excellent, recognizes where I am (far behind), and patiently gives me much sound counsel, advice, encouragement and help. All that help greatly boosts me.

I enjoy ROTC the most of all my studies and also buckle down in my other courses this autumn to make the best grades I can. Autumn is the season for football and football is a big idol on this campus. I do not attend any of Auburn’s games, tho the stadium is a short walk from my room. Didn’t care for the crowds. Some Saturday afternoons, I listen to that day’s football game live on the radio.

Classes adjourn 2 or 3 days for Thanksgiving. I drive home to Vernon for that time with family. Then back to Auburn for about another 3 weeks of classes followed by quarter final exams ending the quarter and starting Christmas break about 20 December. I enjoy this fall quarter of 1965 immensely.

It seems like in each age, this “world” produces songs that hit right home to the hearts of young people. As Christmas season approached in 1965, a popular song was “Pendulum swings like a pendulum do. Bobbies on bicycles two by two. Westminster Abby, the Tower of Big Ben. Rosy red cheeks of the little children.” (I might not have that short piece of it exactly right.) Amazing how such songs seem to be just what my heart identifies with and enjoys hearing at this time in my life. I am maturing! I welcome that! I have extremely rich memories of this fall quarter at Auburn U.! Most enjoyable!

Having a roommate this fall term makes me better aware of just how greatly I prize having a private room all to my own self. In early December, I look for and find a private room off campus elsewhere. Justus also finds a room in a different place from my new location. So when final tests end and college kids leave on Christmas break 1965, we two each pack up and move out of Tiger Lodge for good.

I have fond memories of Tiger Lodge and the hard charging football games across the street. I now finish my 3^rd quarter at Auburn, which makes 1 academic year. So I have now finished my freshman year. With each successfully completed term, my heart grows more and more hopeful of succeeding in four years of study to graduate from this university.

The gym roof I worked for Esker at Centerville back in late summer is now ready for its finishing touch, a coat of aluminum paint to protect it from the sun. I had previously asked Esker for the job. He gave me the job. So now at the quarter’s end, I drive to Centerville from Auburn, it being on my way home to Vernon. Esker drove down from Vernon to meet me there at the appointed time.

He now has a sprayer to spray the aluminum paint onto the roof, much faster than brushing on the paint as we had done in the past. An electric motor and an air compressor are mounted together onto a wide wooden board, all of it weighing 40 pounds or so. Esker had long extension cords to reach down to a wall socket inside the gym to get electric power. A long air hose extended from the compressor to the spray bucket I held or kept near me. Two short hoses for air and paint ran from the bucket to the spray gun I held in my other hand.

I start spraying aluminum paint at the bottom edge of the far side of the large gable roof and work my way up toward the crown. I set the heavy motor and compressor on my side of the roof near the crown. The roof angle was somewhat steep. The motor’s vibrations caused that heavy piece of equipment to slide downhill at times, making me uneasy. I watched that and would position it differently trying to prevent it from moving.

I had repositioned it a few times when (as I was spraying away) I heard the electric motor quit and then heard, “thud, thud, thud.” I looked up to see that 40 pounds tumbling toward me. I quickly moved out of its way. But as it passed me on its way down the steep (and high from the concrete below) roof, that air hose caught around my leg. It threw me down, captured my ankle in a loop and began pulling me, sliding toward the edge of that high roof.

I had a clear split-second vision of it yanking me off the roof and me plunging to the hard concrete far below. Had that happened, it would have killed me or busted so many bones that physical activity would practically be ended for me, from that young age on until my death. If I survived that fall, likely I would never be physically fit for U.S. military service (not to mention all the pain I would endure).

I desperately kicked that leg vigorously and no doubt God sent an angel to enlarge the air hose loop somewhat so that I pulled my leg out of it just before that weight went plunging over the edge, carrying all the hose and bucket with it, of course. Fortunately, no one was below for that 40-pound bomb to strike their pate and burst their skull. Nor was there a vehicle or such for it to hit and damage. It landed on the concrete.

Esker took it to a shop for minor repairs and I went back to spraying paint. Thank Thee; Lord, for again protecting my life. I started spraying that paint as soon as I arrived from Auburn, finished that job the next day and drove on to Daddy’s to enjoy Christmas 1965 and New Years 1966 with home folks.

Returning to Auburn the 1^st week of the New Year 1966, I am so happy to move into a room in Mrs. Taylor’s lovely house at 112 Reese Avenue. Such betterment in life and such blessing that move was to me!

Back in early December, I went to the housing office on campus and looked at their list of available rooms. I saw Mrs. Taylor’s notice of a room in her house for rent. I liked the sound of that. I went to her house and found her to be a most kind, refined, widowed grandmother who rented out her extra 2 bedrooms to 2 male students (1 boy per room) for income and so she would not be alone in her house. She told me she felt safer with 2 good student guys living in her house.

Her fine brick house was quite new. She used the living room, kitchen and her master bedroom with its own bath. The hallway led in from the front door, turned right at a right angle to end at another bathroom centered on the west side of the house that 2 student guys would share. Another guy occupied the front bedroom. I gazed in awe at the carpeted floors and air conditioner in the back bedroom that was presently vacant. I had never before lived in a room with carpet or air cond.

She said the rent was $90 per school term. It was well worth it, but that was much higher than the $45 to $55 I had been paying per quarter. I almost backed out, but I asked her to let me have the room in January. She readily agreed. I was most happy to start 1966 by moving into this nice house, much better than any place I had lived to date.

Each of us 2 boys gets his own key to the front door. Going out of and coming into the house, the large door to Mrs. Taylor’s living room was usually open. It was common to greet her and maybe speak a word or two, as I came and went. She was a most refined lady. Her son-in-law (a professor) taught music on campus. This farm boy was most privileged to be living in her lovely house, and to again have my own private room with the solitude I much desire. Mrs. Taylor becomes like a grandmother to me.

This January 1966, I turn 20 years old, no longer a child.

I will live with Mrs. Taylor for the remainder of the time I am at Auburn University except for one summer quarter when she had guests come and asked me to stay elsewhere. So I found another private room in a private home for that quarter. Right now, it felt so settling to move into her nice house with a beautiful lawn. It was just over 1 block past Tiger Lodge where I lodged with Justus last quarter. Driving south on South College Street, just past Tiger Lodge is a cross street. (Turn right to go past the president’s mansion on the left and to travel on to the dining hall on the left.) But going straight on South College (US Hwy 29) the next street on the left is Reese Avenue. It dead-ends into South College Street because on the opposite side of South College is the university president’s large mansion with its expansive grounds.

I prefer walking. So I now usually walk out of Mrs. Taylor’s lovely house straight across U.S. Hwy 29 (which is South College Street) onto the president’s lawn and straight across it to go to my nice job at the girls’ cafeteria just past there. (No AU guy has it any better than this.)

Back in those good old days, there was no fence or wall around the grounds of the president’s mansion. Nor were there any security restrictions against me walking thru it, as far as I know. After all, I was next-door neighbor to the university president. Great Neighborhood!

“You becoming so closely associated with President Philpot, no doubt he made you University Vice-President.”

‘Actually he didn’t, something I never came to understand.’

Likely, Mrs. Taylor’s house was closer to the girl’s dining hall (my place of work) than any other rental room available to single male students (about a fifth of a mile between “room” and “board” as I daily stroll across the President’s lovely lawn walking to and from work, walking an almost straight line).

Almighty Lord Jehovah God, no other job in the city of Auburn would have made me as happy, content, and fulfilled as that job in the girls’ cafeteria. No other lodging would have been as pleasant as the lovely home of kind Mrs. Taylor who became like a grandmother to me. No other lodging was as conveniently located to my workplace as her house. No other “strolling area” at Auburn was any lovelier than my daily stroll thru the university president’s spacious and beautiful yard.

Truly, Thy Way is Perfect, My Lord God. And truly, Thou doest make my way perfect. Thank Thee, Precious Lord Jesus, for making my way perfect and for making me the most blessed human soul on earth. Please do likewise for each and every human soul presently on this earth, journeying toward Eternity!

Reader Friend, throughout my boyhood days in my earthly father’s house, my daily strolls included walking thru muck in and around the barn, walking thru muck in the pigpens, and strolling to and from our stinking outhouse that set over a pool of maggots. Keeping that in mind, you can well imagine my joy over my vastly improved living conditions described on the previous few pages. You can easily understand why my heart overflows with joy unspeakable to my Creator God for blessing me so richly!! Does your heart likewise overflow with joy unspeakable??

Along about now, Mrs. Ryan passed away at age 88 (I think). Mrs. Ryan is my stepmother’s (Lucille’s) mother. She professed to be a Christian and that is a joy to know. I was in class at Auburn at the time of her death, and did not go back home for her funeral.

I don’t think I went to Vernon for a weekend during this winter quarter of 1966. When the quarter ended, I went home to Daddy’s for spring break (about one week) and then came back to Auburn for spring term. I don’t think I went to Vernon for a weekend during the spring quarter either.

I immensely enjoy being at Auburn, out from my father’s house and its toil. Each day I work in the dining hall gives me 3 meals, $1 in pay, and a pleasant time with the sweet girls there. I have no desire to be elsewhere.

Reading the above paragraph, you can sense that I was well settling in to campus life by now (in my sophomore year). It is so pleasant living in Mrs. Taylor’s house. Only 1 other guy lives in her house. And tho it was a different guy each year I stayed there, each of them left me alone and I left them alone. At 174 Burton Street and then at Tiger Lodge, other guys living there were always wanting to shoot the breeze (talk) with me, or calling me to go get an ice cream with them or go out and play football with them. I enjoyed doing a limited amount of such. But now, I more enjoy being separated from such annoyances. Much solitude suits me ever so well.

I am steadily making more friends with the lovely girls who eat in the cafeteria. I may work every meal of the week or take off 1 or 2 meals on the weekend. (Fewer girls are here on weekends, thus fewer workers needed.) I seldom take off work from any weekend meal, enjoying this job immensely. That should be most easy for you to understand.

I attend First Baptist Church in Auburn. It has a Baptist Student Union (BSU) downtown right on College Street. Early on, I began to hang out occasionally at the BSU, mainly on Friday and Saturday evenings and made friends with Baptist students there. There was a steady schedule of events and functions at the BSU, many of them worldly and vain. But some were edifying work and Christian ministry.

Friday night was missions’ night. I began to participate. We who did so would meet there and at 6:30 PM or so, leave in full cars and drive to 2 or 3 different nursing homes to sing hymns and visit with the elderly there. We went to 1 small church in a poor section of town and had a service and refreshments for their children. Each Friday, upon assembling at the BSU, we would decide where we each would go and who would take a carload of us. Then we would pray and head out to those various places. It was a blessing. I thoroughly enjoyed doing it.

Also, the BSU had Work Week once or twice a year. All the good Baptists in all the Baptist churches in town were urged to hire us Baptist students to come wash windows, rake leaves or pine straw, clean out gutters, plant flowers or such. And all the money they paid us went to Baptist missions. I enjoyed joining in that student work for that good Baptist cause.

This spring quarter, I run the one-mile race in intramural track for the Navy ROTC intramural track team and come in second in the race. I try hard to place first, but one guy was faster. I receive a medal. My instructor, Navy Lt. J.G. Coates presents it to me and sincerely compliments me. I felt honored and greatly appreciated his personal kindness and encouragement. I think he was at Auburn only 2 years. While at Auburn, Lieutenant Junior Grade Coates got promoted to Lieutenant Coates.

Periodically Lt. Coates counseled each of us sophomore midshipmen in his office. One day I was in his office for counseling. “What major are you going to choose?” I was puzzled as to why he would ask that.

‘I’m in pre-law.’ Dumb country boy! I thought that pre-law was a major.

“Pre-law is a curriculum, not a major. At the end of your sophomore year, you must choose a major for a 4 year Bachelor of Arts or Bachelor of Science degree,” he kindly informed me. He pulled out the university’s catalog of studies, opened it to Pre-Law curriculum and showed me the list of majors available for me to choose from.

I quickly scan the list and quickly decide. ‘Likely I will choose Sociology.’

“I thought you might choose that.” Lt. Coates knew me quite well. Lt. Coates will again teach the sophomore midshipmen next year, but I will be a junior. Lt. France was such an asset in my life as a college freshman. Lt. Coates was the same to me during my 2^nd year at college. I am most thankful for both of these fine dedicated Navy officers and the much needed help each of them gave to me.

One spring quarter day while in Lt. Coates’ office, I remark to him that I plan to take the “Marine option” next year to become a Marine officer instead of a Navy officer. “Have you discussed that with Major ________?” (Wish I could remember this fine Marine officer’s name.)

I had no idea I had to discuss it with the Marine instructor. I just sort of thought that I was God’s gift to the military and all I would have to do when I registered for my classes in the coming autumn would be to sign up for the Marine course. Lt. Coates told me to now go next door to the Major’s office and “apply” to become a United States Marine officer.

So I ask Lt. Coates to dismiss me, walk to the Major’s office, knock on his door, and when he gives me permission to enter I go in and announce to him that I plan to take the “Marine option” and join his class this autumn. The major is plenty kind to me in my stupidity as he tells me that I have to ask his permission and get his approval to come into the “Marine option” in Navy ROTC.

“Why do you want to be a Marine?” He queried me.

I had no idea I would have to answer such a question. So I fumble around and come up with some lame answer about the Marines being the toughest of all and I want to be one of such a gang. Tho the Major put on a show of proper military screening in requiring me to “beg” to become a Marine officer, they needed lots of young officers to die a violent death in that bloody political mess in Viet Nam. So if I were able-bodied enough to pass the medical physical exam, smart enough to graduate from Auburn U., and dumb enough to want to die a violent death at a young age in the steaming jungles of Viet Nam, they would eagerly accept me. The Marines eagerly accepted me.

A handful of my Marine buddies at Auburn will get killed in Viet Nam before reaching 24 years of age. I am most thankful to God that I have not yet gotten killed in Viet Nam or in any other place on this earth. And to date (late 2016), I have lived about 3 times as long as my Auburn buddies who were killed in Nam. Thank Thee, My Precious Lord Jesus, for Thy Great Mercies Thou hast so abundantly bestowed upon me.

When Spring Quarter 1966 ends, I have studied diligently thru out all 3 quarters this academic year and have passed my courses. I so enjoyed this school year and have well explained to you the reasons for that joy, gladly acknowledging that every good gift comes from God above.

On to Chapter 14

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