| Biographical Non-Fiction posted May 14, 2020 | Chapters: |
...33 34 -35- 36... 
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Vignettes of what our life was like in the sixties.
A chapter in the book Remembering Yesterday
Life in the Sixties
by BethShelby
| Background This chapter is short sketches of things going on in our lives and in the country during a period of time in the sixties. |
Our new maid was named Mary. I really liked Mary because she was outgoing and willing to allow me to treat her as a friend rather than an employee. She was a student at the local black college and was very intelligent. She enjoyed talking about deep subjects like her world view, social attitudes, and her aims and ambitions. Unfortunately, she didn’t have transportation, so this meant we had to go into the quarters to pick her up and take her back home. Since racial tensions were a tinderbox, this section of town wasn’t a safe place to be, especially after dark. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for her to live there. There was a time when shots rang out and a bullet ricocheted off the side of our car.
Don’s problems seemed to be solved now that he wasn’t attending the nursery where he’d gotten so traumatized. He was no longer sleeping in the baby bed. I made up a bed for him every night on the den couch. We told him he was a big boy now, and no longer needed the crib. We all got a good chuckle when we were at my parent’s home one weekend. My Uncle Harry was there, and he was busy talking and ignoring my son. Don walked up to him and grabbed his pant leg and shook it. He said, “Har, Har, Look at me Har. I’m all growed up.”
You had made some new friends at work, and you had a new hunting buddy named Jim. He liked to go dove hunting, and you often went with him when you had nothing else planned. His wife, Lynn, and I became friends, and we got together pretty often. Sometimes we’d barbecue, and you’d cook the chicken or steak, and I’d add beans, baked potato and salad. Lynn would bring dessert. Most of the friends we had were through your work.
You also got interested in deer hunting and joined a hunting club in Newton, of which two of my uncles were members. The first time you went hunting you managed to shoot a fairly young buck. Most hunters probably wouldn’t have considered that much of a prize, but you were so proud of yourself. As a boy you’d only hunted small game. You looked up a taxidermist and had his head and neck mounted. On the last time you went deer hunting, a year or so later, you got a larger buck with a bigger rack, and you had to have that one mounted as well. You went bow hunting a few times, but after you shot one, but was unable to trail him, you lost your taste for hunting. I was relieved. I would never discourage something you enjoyed, but I hated to see these beautiful creatures killed for no good reason. We kept the meat, but neither of us really liked it.
Carol was popular among the kids who lived around us. She and Phillip, the little boy who lived across the street from us were good friends. She informed us that the neighbor kids had a backyard wedding, and that she and Phillip were the bride and groom. Disney on Ice was at the City Auditorium so we decided to take the kids. I invited Phillip to go along. He showed up in a suit and tie. I had to take a picture of the two of them because they looked so cute together. The ice skating was colorful and very entertaining. We all enjoyed it.
One day, Carol got a sore throat and a fever. She had a red rash all over her body. I got out my trusty, Dr. Spock Child Care book and diagnosed her with scarlet fever. It was late evening, and I called the pediatrician at his home. Since he lived a couple of streets over from us, he came immediately. It was the last time I ever remember having a doctor make a house call. Since this disease is very contagious, we all had to get gamma globulin injections. None of us got sick, and the medicine he gave her cleared it up quickly.
The 60’s were years of turmoil among the races. The KKK was making a comeback and burning black churches and terrorizing those who were trying to make sure all races could vote. There were speeches and marches and sit-ins. In the next county over from where I grew up, three civil rights workers from up North disappeared. Their bodies were eventually discovered buried in a Dam. The more recent movie, “Mississippi Burning” tells the story of that sad episode in my state’s history.
The sixties had seen John F. Kennedy, our president, killed in November of ‘63 while in a parade in Dallas. That was the year Martin Luther King gave his “I Have a dream” speech. In Jackson where we lived, Medgar Evers, an outspoken civil rights activist, was gunned down on his porch. That murder also became a movie. The murderer had been acquitted by the all white jury. Many years later, he was retried. This time, he ended his life in prison.
This decade saw the war in Vietnam heating up. It was an unpopular war. Men were burning their draft cards and moving to Canada. My boss, Robert's son, Robbie Jr., who had worked at the printing company where I worked, was drafted. He would end up dying in Nam. Women were burning their bras and claiming their equality with men.
Music was changing. Elvis was still popular, but after his stint in the service, he was making a lot of movies. Our county was being invaded by many popular rock bands from Britain. The Beatles was only one of the groups. As for us, we still preferred pop music, but we also liked country and Southern gospel. One of our customers at the printing company was a music promoter. He often gave me free tickets to the musical productions at the City Auditorium. The Oak Ridge Boys were still singing gospel at this time. The Statler Brothers was another group we liked.
At work, Dave, the little Cajun cameraman-stripper, and I continued to work together. We got along well. He was married to a lady who was younger than him, and I assumed they were happy. We chatted as we worked. Dave was a smoker, so I was absorbing a lot of second hand smoke. He never made any moves toward me or acted interested in any way other than as a coworker. He did mention once, his wife said he'd called out my name in his sleep, but I figured he was dreaming he was at work.
One day as everyone was coming back from lunch, Dave complained of severe chest pains. He said he needed to go see his doctor, but he was afraid to drive. I went out and checked with the pressmen to see if anyone would drive him. They all turned me down, and said they were too busy. The bosses hadn’t gotten back from lunch, and I was getting worried about him, so I said “Come on I’ll take you.”
All the way there, I could tell he was in severe pain. He was pale and sweating profusely. The doctor saw him as soon as we got there. The receptionist let me know they would be transferring him to the hospital. When I got back to my department, I was scolded for leaving when we had a lot of work. That night, I called the hospital to see how Dave was doing, and his wife chewed me out and accused me of trying to take her husband away from her. He had suffered a severe heart attack and would have died without attention. I had expected she would be grateful I’d saved his life. I’ve heard “no good deed goes unpunished,” and that seemed to be the case.
Dave survived, but he was unable to work again. The next person Robert hired to take his place was gay. That was a relief. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about angry women coming after me. The problem was he didn’t know how to do the job, and I was expected to train him. Robert made no excuse or secret of the fact that he would be making a higher salary than me. When I protested that it was unfair, I was told that I had a husband to support me, and that was just the way it was. Women should not expect to be paid the same salary as men. He reminded me that women, who have children, are less dependable because if the child is sick, it is the mother who must take off work.
The year was 1967. Carol turned six in February. She would start to school in September. The twins were four. I had been with the company for nearly four years. That was a record for me. I had gotten regular raises, but they were all very small and didn’t much more than keep up with the cost of living. Your salary was enough that we were comfortable, but your boss was still so much of a problem for you that I was never sure you wouldn’t tell me one day that you’d had all you could take and turned in your notice.
Don’s problems seemed to be solved now that he wasn’t attending the nursery where he’d gotten so traumatized. He was no longer sleeping in the baby bed. I made up a bed for him every night on the den couch. We told him he was a big boy now, and no longer needed the crib. We all got a good chuckle when we were at my parent’s home one weekend. My Uncle Harry was there, and he was busy talking and ignoring my son. Don walked up to him and grabbed his pant leg and shook it. He said, “Har, Har, Look at me Har. I’m all growed up.”
You had made some new friends at work, and you had a new hunting buddy named Jim. He liked to go dove hunting, and you often went with him when you had nothing else planned. His wife, Lynn, and I became friends, and we got together pretty often. Sometimes we’d barbecue, and you’d cook the chicken or steak, and I’d add beans, baked potato and salad. Lynn would bring dessert. Most of the friends we had were through your work.
You also got interested in deer hunting and joined a hunting club in Newton, of which two of my uncles were members. The first time you went hunting you managed to shoot a fairly young buck. Most hunters probably wouldn’t have considered that much of a prize, but you were so proud of yourself. As a boy you’d only hunted small game. You looked up a taxidermist and had his head and neck mounted. On the last time you went deer hunting, a year or so later, you got a larger buck with a bigger rack, and you had to have that one mounted as well. You went bow hunting a few times, but after you shot one, but was unable to trail him, you lost your taste for hunting. I was relieved. I would never discourage something you enjoyed, but I hated to see these beautiful creatures killed for no good reason. We kept the meat, but neither of us really liked it.
Carol was popular among the kids who lived around us. She and Phillip, the little boy who lived across the street from us were good friends. She informed us that the neighbor kids had a backyard wedding, and that she and Phillip were the bride and groom. Disney on Ice was at the City Auditorium so we decided to take the kids. I invited Phillip to go along. He showed up in a suit and tie. I had to take a picture of the two of them because they looked so cute together. The ice skating was colorful and very entertaining. We all enjoyed it.
One day, Carol got a sore throat and a fever. She had a red rash all over her body. I got out my trusty, Dr. Spock Child Care book and diagnosed her with scarlet fever. It was late evening, and I called the pediatrician at his home. Since he lived a couple of streets over from us, he came immediately. It was the last time I ever remember having a doctor make a house call. Since this disease is very contagious, we all had to get gamma globulin injections. None of us got sick, and the medicine he gave her cleared it up quickly.
The 60’s were years of turmoil among the races. The KKK was making a comeback and burning black churches and terrorizing those who were trying to make sure all races could vote. There were speeches and marches and sit-ins. In the next county over from where I grew up, three civil rights workers from up North disappeared. Their bodies were eventually discovered buried in a Dam. The more recent movie, “Mississippi Burning” tells the story of that sad episode in my state’s history.
The sixties had seen John F. Kennedy, our president, killed in November of ‘63 while in a parade in Dallas. That was the year Martin Luther King gave his “I Have a dream” speech. In Jackson where we lived, Medgar Evers, an outspoken civil rights activist, was gunned down on his porch. That murder also became a movie. The murderer had been acquitted by the all white jury. Many years later, he was retried. This time, he ended his life in prison.
This decade saw the war in Vietnam heating up. It was an unpopular war. Men were burning their draft cards and moving to Canada. My boss, Robert's son, Robbie Jr., who had worked at the printing company where I worked, was drafted. He would end up dying in Nam. Women were burning their bras and claiming their equality with men.
Music was changing. Elvis was still popular, but after his stint in the service, he was making a lot of movies. Our county was being invaded by many popular rock bands from Britain. The Beatles was only one of the groups. As for us, we still preferred pop music, but we also liked country and Southern gospel. One of our customers at the printing company was a music promoter. He often gave me free tickets to the musical productions at the City Auditorium. The Oak Ridge Boys were still singing gospel at this time. The Statler Brothers was another group we liked.
At work, Dave, the little Cajun cameraman-stripper, and I continued to work together. We got along well. He was married to a lady who was younger than him, and I assumed they were happy. We chatted as we worked. Dave was a smoker, so I was absorbing a lot of second hand smoke. He never made any moves toward me or acted interested in any way other than as a coworker. He did mention once, his wife said he'd called out my name in his sleep, but I figured he was dreaming he was at work.
One day as everyone was coming back from lunch, Dave complained of severe chest pains. He said he needed to go see his doctor, but he was afraid to drive. I went out and checked with the pressmen to see if anyone would drive him. They all turned me down, and said they were too busy. The bosses hadn’t gotten back from lunch, and I was getting worried about him, so I said “Come on I’ll take you.”
All the way there, I could tell he was in severe pain. He was pale and sweating profusely. The doctor saw him as soon as we got there. The receptionist let me know they would be transferring him to the hospital. When I got back to my department, I was scolded for leaving when we had a lot of work. That night, I called the hospital to see how Dave was doing, and his wife chewed me out and accused me of trying to take her husband away from her. He had suffered a severe heart attack and would have died without attention. I had expected she would be grateful I’d saved his life. I’ve heard “no good deed goes unpunished,” and that seemed to be the case.
Dave survived, but he was unable to work again. The next person Robert hired to take his place was gay. That was a relief. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about angry women coming after me. The problem was he didn’t know how to do the job, and I was expected to train him. Robert made no excuse or secret of the fact that he would be making a higher salary than me. When I protested that it was unfair, I was told that I had a husband to support me, and that was just the way it was. Women should not expect to be paid the same salary as men. He reminded me that women, who have children, are less dependable because if the child is sick, it is the mother who must take off work.
The year was 1967. Carol turned six in February. She would start to school in September. The twins were four. I had been with the company for nearly four years. That was a record for me. I had gotten regular raises, but they were all very small and didn’t much more than keep up with the cost of living. Your salary was enough that we were comfortable, but your boss was still so much of a problem for you that I was never sure you wouldn’t tell me one day that you’d had all you could take and turned in your notice.
 Recognized |
I'm continuing to recall memories of life with my deceased husband as if I am talking aloud to him. I'm doing this because I want my children to know us as we knew each other and not just as their parents;
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