He began to miss a lot of school during the first part of the year and on Halloween of that school year my buddy and I went over to his house, hoping he could go trick-or-treating with us.

He couldn’t. He wasn’t well enough for that, plus he had to really watch what he ate. When I saw him, he seemed a lot older than us that night. It was as if he knew things we didn’t and he probably did.

Douglas knew his time was running out, but we had no clue. The get-well cards we were sending him from our class were not going to work.

He died in the spring. I remember Mother coming to my room and telling me. I had only had one other friend to die before and that was Mattie Laura. I knew what death was. But that time I really knew. I cried myself to sleep.

Mrs. Harris was our teacher and her husband was the funeral director. She encouraged us to go to the visitation and funeral if we felt up to it. She was such a nice lady. I could see the pain in her eyes. Evidently she cried a lot, too.

My parents took me to the funeral home for the visitation before the service. I was one of a few kids there and we were all at a loss as of what to do or say. Everyone was unbelievably sad.

Douglas was wearing a yellow sweater, trimmed in black and white. In a way it looked like he was sleeping, but I knew he wasn’t.

It was a nice service. The preacher read his favorite poem. It was one about him leaving and I cried again.

I had a lot of trouble going to sleep at night after that. I kept thinking that if I went to sleep, I might never wake up again.

No one ever sat in his desk the rest of the year and it was as if my friend was invisible and still sitting there among us.

I was glad when that school year ended and I didn’t have to see that room again. The next year I promoted to junior high and went across the street where the big building was.

My first year in junior high was memorable. It had been one of the county’s three high schools at one point. In fact, it was the school my father had graduated from in 1936, and it had been annexed onto an even older high school that was built around 1911.

The old part of the school was three stories tall and each floor had fourteen-foot ceilings. When there was a high wind the top floor would sway a little and it wasn’t unusual to see a brick or two give up the ghost and tumble to the playground below.

Johnny, the kid from the bus, had a heck of a throwing arm and could take half a brick and knock a pigeon off the edge of the roof from the playground below.

The windows on the upper levels were huge and designed so the top window sash could be lowered a foot or two, while the bottom sash could be raised to allow cool air to enter at the bottom and warm air to circulate out the top.

Outside those third-floor windows, facing the playground, was a large iron fire escape.

My older cousin, Al, had a class in one of those third-floor rooms that faced the playground below. One day he and his buddy arrived in class and found out their teacher was out sick, they would be having a young substitute instead. Al and his buddy had a great idea, or so they thought.

They raised the bottom window all the way up. It was such a large opening that a grown man could have easily stepped through to the fire escape outside.

One of them stood in front of the window facing in, the other stood with his back to the door, facing the window. Just as the substitute teacher walked through the door the one facing the door gave the nod and they pretended to be having an argument. Al’s buddy drew back, yelled, “I’m not taking your crap anymore!” and faked a punch to Al’s chin.

Al pretended to have been slugged and fell backwards out of the window and onto the fire escape outside.

The substitute teacher had no clue there was a fire escape on the other side of the window, but she did realize they were on the third floor. Believing she had just witnessed a murder and a student falling out the window three floors to his death, she fainted and dropped on the floor like a sack of potatoes.

After the teacher came to, the two were sent to the office for a paddling and a three day suspension.

I had heard that story years before my first day of junior high and I was well aware that I had some big shoes to fill.

But things were changing for me during those days. Either I was out growing my attention deficit disorder or puberty was kicking in or something. I was never able to fill his shoes.

(to be continued)

Louisville, Mississippi	Fourth of July Parade in Louisville. This was my grandfather's wagon.
Store in Mashulaville in Noxubee County.	Hog killing time. Photo by Walter Bennett.
Photo by Walter Bennett.	Photo by Walter Bennett.
Our neighbor, Brooks Carter, showing off his rack of bacon and a ham he had just pulled from his smokehouse. Photo by Walter Bennett.

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Rick Algood
September 3, 2021