First Day Sets The Stage For School Career

Can you remember the first time you didn’t “go back to school?”

The summer after high school or college ended and you just kept going. There was no back to school shopping or schedule pickup – just another day of work. Maybe it was a summer job that rolled into the fall or maybe you started that first “real job” and got so busy that you didn’t notice school was starting again.

Then, you found yourself driving through the familiar school zone waiting for the crossing guard’s signal to pass. Even if it was just for a moment, you probably wished you could walk right back through those school doors.

As a student, my two best days of the school year were always the first day and the last day. No research exists but I would imagine many teachers feel the same way. Not taking away from the great things that happen during the school year, but the first day is just the best.

There is something comforting about the start of a new school year. There’s the anticipation of a new teacher, the pride of new clothes and of course the smell of new school supplies. Is there anything better than cracking open a fresh box of Crayolas?

My very first school day may not have been my best but it was certainly memorable. I don’t remember the details but it involved bringing a note home from the principal. I never saw it but I’m sure the note read something like this…

“Dear Mrs. Carroll - your son Timothy and Nicholas Terrafranca were disciplined today for playing on the rectory steps. Father O’Connor brought this to my attention when he returned the playground ball that was left on the porch. I hope this is not the behavior we can expect from Timothy at Sacred Heart in the coming year.” - Sister Mary Agatha.

Actually it was exactly the behavior they came to expect. Luckily for me the nuns, like all teachers, were very good at forgiving and “helping me make good choices.”

It is a remarkable transformation that takes place over the summer. No matter how hectic the end of school is, teachers and kids return each fall refreshed and eager to start all over again. Many moms are celebrating for a different reason as they recapture their homes from the summer invaders.

One big exception are the kindergarten parents who hover and fuss as their kids are led away to class for the first time. Comforting PTA groups even offer “crying rooms” outfitted with coffee and Kleenix for distraught parents. Similar rooms should be made available for parents who watch their young ones drive away to college for the first time.

High school is a different story. Their first day is more of a social event and fashion parade interrupted by classes. It is all about who’s in my class and where do I sit at lunch this year. Still, it’s the first day and there’s a buzz in the air.

This Sunday marks the end of a long – a very long – summer. I hope every one of you has a great first day – whether you’re walking through the doors or just driving by. And parents – don’t be upset if your kindergartner comes home with a note from the principal. It will all work out in the end.

Connecticut Coed Weds Jersey Boy

Mr. and Mrs. John Brownrigg request the honor of your presence at the wedding of Ann Grace Brownrigg and Timothy Joseph Carroll on Saturday, the eleventh of August in one thousand and nine hundred and seventy nine at eleven o’clock at Christ Church, Redding Ridge, Connecticut.
It may have seemed an unlikely pairing at the time but here we are thirty years later about to celebrate another milestone.

The first time I met my future wife, she was administering a swimming test for counselors at Camp Weequahic in Lakewood, Pennsylvania. She had the whistle and the clipboard and I had a very slim chance of swimming four laps. The outcome was predictable and I failed the test.
Those who worked as overnight camp counselors know that the best week of the summer is the week before kids arrive. Staff members work all day and usually head to the nearest town for refreshments at night.

That was my plan when I offered a group of counselors, including the future Mrs. Carroll, a ride into town. The following night I repeated the offer but forgot to invite everyone except the future Mrs. Carroll.

I know the topic of marriage didn’t come up that night. In fact, the subject wasn’t breached for several years. But there we were in the bustling town of Hancock, New York trying to recreate our brief twenty years of history.

In a romantic comedy movie I would have told her she the most attractive lifeguard I’d ever met (she was) and could she possibly rethink that swim test score. A more dramatic script would have me offering charming comments (not a chance) about the summer we would spend together. In an action movie, we would be pursued through the Pennsylvania woods by thugs in velour running suits and big chains. I probably wrote a column about their father Carmine.
In the reality show of life, I probably opened with a probing question like “where do you go to school and what’s your major? What an opener.

I did learn that we both shared a desire to get out of the house for the summer. I was beginning my fifth summer as a counselor at various camps and she was facing her first. Neither of us would finish out a month at Camp Weequahic though and it wasn’t because of the guys with the big chains.

Two weeks later, I realized I’d had enough of summer camp life after five years. When I confided that thought with Ann – she admitted she couldn’t wait to leave. So we did.
I graciously offered to drive her home to Connecticut which was not exactly on the way to New Jersey but – let’s just say we had lots more to talk about. Maybe this could be a romantic road trip movie instead.

We retired to less exciting jobs in New Jersey and Connecticut and kept in touch before we headed back to college in opposite directions - New Haven (CT) and Murray (KY).
Many letters and hours of late night phone calls and a few visits back and forth kept the long distance relationship running until I graduated and moved back from Kentucky.

True to the romance movie formula, we broke up for a few months and then saw the error in our ways. The topic of marriage was finally breached in a serious way and we were married the following summer on August 11, 1979.

The story of how we came to be married thirty years ago hardly deserves a spot on the shelves at Blockbuster. Long ago it would have been moved from the college humor section to the drama pile and now to the faded family section.

That’s ok with me but this week I think it deserves to be in the Employee’s Best Picks section under romantic comedy.
Happy anniversary Ann.

Fluffernutter Crushes Foes In Taste Test

I did not eat a school cafeteria lunch until ninth grade. It wasn’t an option since our school didn’t even have a cafeteria until I hit seventh grade.

Many of us walked home at lunch time until the school built a cafeteria. Others just ate at their desks which made the classroom smell like stale milk each afternoon. In one hour I was able to catch a hot lunch, watch some Leave it To Beaver on television and run one block back to school.

The new cafeteria didn’t actually serve lunches. Instead, we could buy milk and sit at big tables while the room was monitored by volunteers to give the nuns a break. Imagine our surprise that year when we realized that nuns ate lunch too. We just assumed they went back to church to pray for strength to get through the afternoon.

Once I started bringing my lunch, every day was a surprise. Just like June Cleaver, my mother packed our lunches and had them waiting for us at the door. There was little discussion and even less argument about what was in the bag. So just like Wally and the Beaver, my brother and I grabbed the sack lunch and walked to school.

The lunches were not what you’d call gourmet but I enjoyed them anyway. Looking back, I wondered how my mother’s school lunches would fare with today’s discriminating lunch critics. To find out, I conducted a taste test using nine kids from Allen ISD’s Kids Club program. The highly scientific study asked the kids to rate each of my mother’s signature sandwiches as Great, OK, or Terrible.

I called the first sandwich a “Goober” after the jar of blended peanut butter and jelly with the same name. We were fascinated by the convenience of combining both in a single jar and overlooked the marginal taste of both. One young taster observantly noted that it tasted like peanut butter and jelly. Overall it earned 6 greats, 2 ok’s and a no comment.

The next sandwich was called a Philadelphia after the cheese. Cream cheese and jelly was a standard lunch item. Spreading cold cream cheese on dry bread was the hardest part of this delicacy. Four kids said it was great, 2 said ok and 2 rated it above a great with an “awesome” and a “love it.”

The Deviled Sandwich refers to that small can of deviled ham. With a consistency and smell similar to cat food, I can’t imagine why I liked the stuff. I mixed some with mayonnaise and three of the kids thought it was great. Two thought it was ok, 2 thought it tasted like tuna fish and 2 wouldn’t touch it.

Finally came the most delicious and disgusting sandwich of all – The Fluffernutter. I could almost sing the whole commercial jingle as I spread the marshmallow fluff on the cheap white bread. I learned years ago to add the peanut butter to the other slice. Rumors circulated that astronauts on Apollo 13 used marshmallow fluff to fuse pipes together but I couldn’t verify it.

The kids loved it though and one said he would go home and beg his mother to buy some fluff. This classic rated 5 greats, 2 ok’s, an “I love it” and a “best ever.”

Mom knows best again. She didn’t get a single “terrible” rating. The kids, who admitted eating almost nothing but peanut butter and jelly, have expanded their tastes and are almost ready for Spam.

Girl Toys - Barbie Rules

I readily admit that The Flipside column is biased towards guys. With topics like Creepy Crawlers and chemistry sets, this should not be much of a surprise.

In an effort to share the spotlight, I recently spoke with five former children who shared their own experiences growing up with toys.

Dolls and board games dominated the conversations. I learned about Betsy Wetsy who had the unique talent of wetting her diapers. Thumbelina was the most lifelike and Patty Play Pal was the biggest. Then there was Chatty Kathy, the first truly talking doll who said “take me with you” and “tell me a story.” As a side note, June Foray was the voice inside the first dolls but she was better known as the voice of Rocky The Flying Squirrel.

Three of our panelists fondly remembered Mystery Date where pre-teens could imagine taking a dreamy hunk or dud to the dance. It was one game that could clear a room full of annoying boys very quickly.

Jane Bennett recalled a game called “Park and Shop” that required girls to arrange their shopping errands efficiently so they could get home on time. “Playing the game as much as I did probably explains my keen interest with organizing things.”

It was really all about Barbies, added Regina Taylor. We spent hours upon hours setting up house and playing with Barbie and her friend Midge.

“I can still see the Barbie dollhouse under our Christmas tree,” said Mary Kruse. “The furniture was attached to the house and the whole thing folded into a suitcase.”

Bennett was lucky enough to have one of the first dolls. “My father converted an old three shelf bookcase into a house and changing room for the dolls. I absolutely loved playing with it.”
“It was all about the fashion for Sandy Wittsche. “We would go to the store and buy a single outfit, then run home to pick out all the accessories that matched. It was a big event.”
“Eventually I grew too old for Barbies,” she added, “and they went into the closet for a long, long time. Years later I dug them out of my parent’s home and remembered how much I had enjoyed them.”

That led to her collection of vintage Barbie dolls and accessories that fills a display cabinet in her home. She also pulls a rare pink Barbie Christmas tree out of storage each year
“I wish I’d kept some of them,” said Taylor. My mother gave them away to my cousins and they promptly pulled the heads off the dolls.”

What made Barbie so appealing to us was her age, added Ann Carroll. “We had outgrown the baby dolls and here was a teenager doll that wore cool clothes and did the kind of things we hoped to do.”

Television advertising didn’t hurt either. The doll was among the first mass marketed toys and sold 350,000 units in the first year alone. According to the Mattel website, over $1.5 billion worth of Barbie products are sold each year.

Everyone agreed that Barbies were strictly girl territory. Unless G.I. Joe was looking for a date, there was no room for guys when the girls were “playing Barbies.”

“It didn’t really matter what we did with them when we got together,” explained Kruse. “The fun was in setting up the house and changing outfits around. Itw as a very social activity.”
Cruising the Internet world of Barbie collecting I found 11,367 different items listed on Ebay. They included such rarities as Allan (Midge’s boyfriend), the head of a 1960 Ken doll, a vintage 1958 Barbie ($495 bid) and a Japanese Midge in her wedding gown ($2,500).

Maybe us guys should have spent more time in “the pink aisle” when we were kids and less time picking out weapons for G.I. Joe.

It came It Thawed It Conquered

I went out for dinner three nights in a row last week. Even for me, it was excessive. I could make excuses about how busy we were but the truth is that eating out is too convenient – especially in Allen.

I certainly did not acquire the habit from my parents. Our family “went out” for dinner after funerals and sometimes on holidays. Fancy eating for the Carroll’s was the Wedgewood Cafeteria in Montclair, New Jersey. It must have been fancy because the chef wore a big hat as he cut off slabs of prime rib. In reality, the Wedgewood was probably closer to a Luby’s with linen tablecloths.

That doesn’t mean that mom cooked every night. My father made the pizza and late edition newspaper run on most Friday nights. The big treat for us came when mom sent one of us to the store for that 1960’s gem – Swanson’s TV Dinners. The standard order was two turkey and two fried chicken frozen dinners although my father occasionally broke tradition with the Swiss steak dinner.

Forty minutes later (no microwaves yet), the Carroll’s were watching family television while eating scalding hot dinners on metal TV tables.

The history of the TV dinner can be traced back to a trainload of 270 tons of leftover turkey. Swanson and Sons had undersold their Thanksgiving orders and were left with ten refrigerated cars full of turkey. The trains literally crossed back and forth across the US to keep the refrigeration units working.

Gerald Thomas, a Swanson executive, spotted the trays used for airline food service and created the famous three-part metal tray with frozen food in 1954. The first TV dinners (turkey of course) sold for 98 cents. Swanson took a risk and produced 5,000 dinners. They ended up selling 25 million in the first year thanks to the clever tie-in with the most popular appliance in America – the television. Fried chicken was added in 1955 followed by Swiss steak, Mexican themed meals, macaroni and cheese and more. Mean Joe Greene introduced the Hungry Man Meal in 1973 and the first microwave meals appeared in 1986.

I recently conducted a slightly scientific survey of about 60 Rotary members showed that about half never ate TV dinners as a kid. Those that did preferred the macaroni and cheese dinner with turkey placing a close second. Swanson’s Web site states that turkey is still the most popular meal with fried chicken in second place.

Three Rotary members remembered watching Bonanza over a TV dinner many times and one presumably younger member tied TV dinners to the Mork and Mindy show.

Like many childhood memories, my enjoyment of TV dinners should remain frozen in time. My steady diet of Banquet pot pies in college effectively killed my love for frozen foods.

While she may be mentioned in the company history, I do believe my mother had a hand in planning the meals. I couldn’t hide the vegetables because they rested in their own neat compartment. The desserts remained scalding for about 20 minutes so you couldn’t eat them first and everything was soaked in butter; just like mom’s pre-cholesterol cooking. As a final salute to mom, there were no dishes.

Take a frozen trip down memory lane by visiting http://www.swansonmeals.com/.

Sixth Grade Research Saves Lives

Life is full of questions. When we were young, our parents and teachers seemed to have all the answers. As we grew older we relied more on the limited knowledge of our friends which was where things start going wrong. After all, there were questions that we would never ask an adult but our friends were always willing to offer an opinion.

“I wonder if this will burn” would be one of those questions. It might make a great segment for the David Letterman Show but no good can come from two eleven year-old boys discovering the answer.

Fully aware of the “don’t play with matches” campaign from Fire Safety Month, Billy Garrabrandt and I tested the combustibility of an old canvas chair – in my garage. Much to our delight and then horror, the old dried out chair flared up almost instantly.

Our immediate reaction was to find something to put the fire out in the unattached garage. There was no water and racing into the yard to run a hose into the garage would likely cause alarm from my mother. Our solution was to smother the fire with a fifty pound bag of dry cement that we found in the corner. Cement powder was everywhere but the real threat of burning down our garage was abated.

For the first time ever, we voluntarily cleaned up the garage and carefully trimmed the burnt seat of the chair hoping the grownups wouldn’t notice. We then threw the chair out with all the garbage from our cleaning frenzy. It was one of the few times that we didn’t get caught doing something stupid but I did admit the whole incident to my mother thirty years later.

Scientific discovery was at the heart of many theories that Billy Garrabrandt and I attempted to prove. We tested Newton’s theories of gravity by tossing objects out of our third floor window. Seeking an answer to the age old question “what will happen if I throw this out of the window?” we dropped airplane models, army men and even food out of my attic window.

Years later we reversed the process to answer the question “what can we sneak into the attic?” but that’s a story for another column.

“Do you think it will explode?” was the most dangerous but also the most entertaining question that Billy and I struggled with. Chemistry sets were still the rage and enterprising youngsters could purchase refills of ingredients at the local hobby store. We pooled our meager resources and bought sulphur, charcoal and potassium nitrate to play with. With absolutely no thought of the danger involved, we made gunpowder and stuffed it into objects that we detonated. I don’t believe we ever created an explosion but running at full speed away from a lit fuse was better than any amusement park ride.

There were so many unanswered questions that Billy and I struggled to answer. Each of them would have made an excellent sixth grade science project.

“I wonder if this will make him throw up?” “What will happen if the dog drinks beer?” “How long will it take my two year-old nephew to learn a swear word?” “How far will car model parts travel when exploded with a cherry bomb?” “If a bus is passing by at 35 mph, what trajectory is needed to reach it with a snowball and still leave enough time to run away?”

There were no marble lab books, but Billy and I solved these and many other puzzling questions of childhood. I am not sure if humanity is better for it but it sure was fun.

The Flipside Column - November 2007

Bill of Rights Bulmer

Article I - Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof…

Her name was Agnes Bulmer but we affectionately called her “Bill of Rights Bulmer.” She was my sixth grade teacher at St. Thomas the Apostle School. By all counts, she was a very good math teacher and probably a really nice person – unless you were a sixth grade student.
Sixth grade was a very big year at St. Thomas. The sixth, seventh and eighth grades were all located on the top floor of the old school. Kids rarely visited the top floor unless they were collecting mission money or attending detention. I visited more often for detention.
My feet didn’t touch the floor at the desks in the detention room and the textbooks were a lot thicker than ours. That was the extent of my third floor memories until I arrived in Mrs. Bulmer’s room in 1967.

Mrs. Bulmer was an unknown to us. She came to St. Thomas that year after a long career with the public schools. We had no rumors or inside information from older brothers and sisters. We would just have to break her in like we did Sister Theresa in fifth grade.

Sister Theresa had issues with classroom management as we say in the business and ended up leaving the convent altogether and getting married. We took full credit for her nun meltdown but I would imagine her fiancé was a bigger factor. Like a relief pitcher trying to finish out a losing game, Mrs. Nicholas took over the class for the last 2 months of school. It’s possible she became a nun after a few months with us.

So we arrived at Mrs. Bulmer’s sixth grade door with an attitude. Her reaction to our antics was calm and efficient. In that first week, four of us had a giggling fit that could not stop. She calmly wrote our names on the board and said she had a special assignment for our misbehavior.
We were told to write out the Bill of Rights and turn it in the next morning. It took about 45 minutes that night to write it out by hand which was annoying but not deadly for a punishment.
For one reason or another (mostly talking), my name appeared on the board again and again. I accepted my fate and wrote copy after copy of the Bill of Rights like a monastic monk.
Mrs. Bulmer rarely raised her voice and most kids learned to keep their names off of the Bill of Rights list. Michael Rosetti even erased the whole list once but she conveniently had it jotted down in her teacher book. She assigned the Bill of Rights to the whole class on several occasions and a collective groan came over the class.

One day I was filled with patriot pride and I challenged Mrs. Bulmer saying that we had a right to exercise our free speech. It said so right in the Bill of Rights and I was practically a constitutional scholar by now. Her response was to make me write the referenced document 5 times.

It got so bad that year, that I memorized the ten articles. I would write them in advance on pages in the back of my theme tablet and turn them in as needed. In a moment of stupidity, I handed her one moments after she assigned it just to get a laugh. The class laughed at me instead as I got another five assigned.

I wrote the darned Bill of Rights about 63 times that year according to the check marks on my notebook cover. I could have supplied the entire Continental Congress with copies two hundred years earlier.

I am ashamed that I can’t remember all of my grammar school teachers but I’ll never forget Agnes Bulmer and I’ll never forget the Bill of Rights.

The Flipside - May 2009