The Life of Me - an autobiography Part 28

I never quite forgave the weather for that little stunt it pulled on us. It was a long time before I could get the family to go with me again anywhere outside our home county.

Time not only "waits for no man," it seems to go faster and faster. We were getting older and our kids were growing up. Dennis finished high school in Hamlin in June of 1949. In the fall of that same year he began to hear advertis.e.m.e.nts on radio about cheap farm land in Arkansas, and he sent for a catalog of listings. When it arrived, I had to admit there were some interesting bargains offered in it. The more Dennis read the catalog and listened to the radio, the more he was convinced that out there somewhere in this big country of ours, there was something we had been missing. Then one day he said to me, "Daddy, let's go look at some of these places. All we are doing here is working ourselves to death and getting nowhere."

We talked it over and I agreed that, if it suited the rest of the family, we would go look. Dennis and I went first, not to buy, but only to shop around. We went to Ft. Smith, Arkansas, and looked all the way from 60 miles north of there to 60 miles south of there. We liked what we saw and the prices were right. Then we returned home, and Ima and I went to Arkansas, this time not just looking; we were buying. After looking a few days, we found and bought a small farm three miles south of Mansfield.

We moved onto the place in the early spring of 1950. Anita stayed with the Tarlington Willingham family to finish out her Soph.o.m.ore year in Hamlin High School. She joined us that summer and spent her Junior year in Mansfield High School. Then she did some special work during the next summer and, in the fall of 1951, instead of entering Mansfield High as a Senior, she entered the University of Arkansas as a Freshman.

Three years later Dennis also entered the University as a Freshman. Then three years after that, Dennis and Anita both came to me and told me it was my time next. They promised to see me through. They would handle the finances; it would be up to me to make my grades.

One of my dreams when I was 20 years old, was to finish high school, go to college, and become a school teacher. It was 31 years later that my three children decided it was time for me to realize that dream. At first I argued against the idea, half- heartedly, but was pleased when they insisted. And I must admit that I have thoroughly enjoyed the good life which they have afforded me, beginning with those first days of college in 1957. By that time Dennis was a college Senior, Anita was teaching in college, and Larry was a high school Freshman.

Oh yes, I even enjoyed the struggle during those early college days, even when it became doubtful that I would make pa.s.sing grades in one or two subjects. The challenges encountered there and afterward have renewed within me the will to work for something better, and a desire to better understand why I work at all.

Early in my college days I realized that I must make some changes in my way of thinking toward others, and my att.i.tude toward some of my ideals, which I had cultivated since early childhood. I saw a need for conformity in certain cases, rather than uncompromising individualism, so long as it didn't interfere with my integrity. Such a change didn't come easily; I am still trying, but old habits from the past keep causing me to backslide at times.

However, I think my greatest change is one that can not be seen by others-an inner feeling of well-being that tells me, "Don't worry about your past mistakes. You can not go back and correct them. And you will make other mistakes tomorrow. Mistakes are a part of the natural order of human living. Have a good day today and be content with whatever tomorrow may bring."

I spent three regular school years and three summers in college, and enjoyed every minute of it. I was on the honor roll half the time. I also did a little teaching in General Shop in Junior High Training School. One day when the Professor had to be away, I even took it upon myself to break one of his rules and allow the boys to make knives. I told him about it when he returned, and I told him why I did it. He agreed that it was a good idea.

Then I served one semester as student teacher in a college machine shop course, ranked highest in my cla.s.s in economics, first in woodshop cla.s.s, second in machine shop, and made "C" in United States History without having to study it. After all, I remembered most of it from having lived through so much of it. I cheated on two exams, just a little, not even enough for my conscience to bother me, caught two professors cheating on my exams-cheating in my favor, to help me make pa.s.sing grades.

During my first two semesters, it seemed that I got very little help from my teachers. There I was, an old man sitting in cla.s.s with a group of 20-year-old boys and girls. It seemed that the teachers had the idea that I would drop out as soon as the going got tough, so why should they waste time on me?

Then when they saw I was there to stay, they seemed to want to help me get on through. From then on, things got easier. Finally I graduated and went out to face the same world that I had been facing for 55 years, only this time I had the diploma which caused adults to look up to me and kids to look down on me.

My first year of teaching was in a 21-teacher school in Farmington, Arkansas. Enough interesting things took place there that year to fill a good size book.

In September of 1961 I began teaching 6th grade in an Indian School on the Navaho Indian Reservation near Winslow, Arizona. I taught there at Leupp just six weeks. Then I resigned my position and moved to San Angelo, Texas, because of Ima's health. There I spent my first year teaching Wood Shop at Lee Junior High School. And I taught nine years in Special Education.

At age 65 San Angelo Schools retired me. I could have gone on and taught in some other town, but who wants to teach when he can retire and loaf? Not me. So, I retired and loafed. Ima and I bought a travel trailer and did more than our share of traveling the next two-and-a-half years. In fact, we traveled so much that the nation began to run short of gasoline. It doubled in price and we thought we ought to slow down and let some others do some traveling also. Now, all I have to do is sit around and write and let you know what I have been doing these past 72 years.

Since I have retired, I have a lot of time to loaf and sit and think. At first it hurt my conscience to loaf; I had to force myself to sit down, and I still find it difficult to think. But I am having a wonderful time since I have learned to look at life from a different angle.

When I was young my parents took me to Sunday School and Church.

They taught me that it was good to keep the Sabbath, respect the preacher, honor my father and my mother, and be kind to others.

I knew I was good because I did all those things.

But, as I became older, I began to feel that something was wrong. Life was pa.s.sing me by. Church had lost its charm. When the preacher preached h.e.l.lfire and brimstone to sinners, I felt left out. I knew he wasn't preaching to me because I was good, and had been all my life. I put my dollar in the collection plate only to feel that I had been cheated-not getting my money's worth, always listening to sermons preached to bad people.

But now I'm happy again. I have changed my entire life style- what I do, what I think, and what I say. Now I make it a point to insult someone, cheat someone, lie to someone, be mean to someone at least once each week. Now the preacher is back on speaking terms with me. He preaches directly to me every Sunday. I give my dollar to the church and come away with the feeling that I have gotten more than my money's worth. It's a good feeling.

EPILOGUE

Clarence Johnson - January 11, 1906 - November 9, 1994

Clarence Johnson died quietly in his sleep at daybreak on November 9, 1994. He had been ill for about three months. He was 88 years old.

This book was scanned and edited by David Larry Johnson in loving memory of his Dad.