My favorite album.

Released: September, 1972 Black Sabbath Vol. 4.

1 Wheels of Confusion (8:00)
The Straightener
2 Tomorrow's Dream (3:08)
3 Changes (4:41)
4 FX (1:41)
5 Supernaut (4:43)
6 Snowblind (5:28)
7 Cornucopia (3:50)
8 Laguna Sunrise (2:50)
9 St. Vitus' Dance (2:25)
10 Under the Sun (5:52)
Every Day Comes and Goes




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Wheels of Confusion (8:00)
The Straightener

Long ago I wandered through my mind,
In the land of fairy tales and stories,
Lost in happiness I didn't know fears,
Innocence and love was all I knew,
Was an illusion

Soon the days were passing into haze,
Happiness just didn't come so easy,
Life was more than fairy tales and daydreams,
Innocence was just another word,
Was an illusion

Lost in the wheels of confusion,
Running through valleys of tears
Eyes full of angered illusion,
Hiding in ev'ry day dreams

So I found that life is just a game,
Hurts to know there's never been a winner,
Cry your hardest, you'll still be a loser,
The world will still be turning when you've gone
Yeah when you've gone!

Under the Sun (5:52)
Every Day Comes and Goes

Well, I don't want no Demon freak to tell me what it's all about,
No black magician telling me to cut my soul out,
Don't believe in violence; I don't even believe in peace
I've opened the door now my mind's been released

Well, I don't want no preacher telling me about the god in the sky,
No, I don't want no one to tell me where I'm gonna go when I die
I wanna live my life I don't want people telling me what to do
I just believe in myself, 'cos no one else is true

Ev'ry day just comes and goes
Life is one long overdose
People drive to ruination
I can see through their frustration

People hiding their real faces,
Each one running their rat races
Behind each flow'r there grows a weed
in their world of make-believe

So believe what I tell you;
It's the only way you'll find in the end
Just believe in yourself you know you really shouldn't have to pretend
Don't let those empty people try and interfere with your mind
Just live your life and leave them all behind

My love/hate relationship...

Yesterday, There was so many things
I was never told
Now that I'm startin' to learn
I feel I'm growing old

'Cause yesterday's got nothin' for me
Old pictures that I'll always see
Some things could be better
In my book of memories
Prayers in my pocket
And no hand in destiny
I'll keep on movin' along
With no time to plant my feet

'Cause yesterday's got nothin' for me
Old pictures that I'll always see
Some things could be better
If we'd all just let them be

Yesterday's got nothin' for me
Yesterday's got nothin' for me
Got nothin' for me

Yesterday, There was so many things
I was never shown
Suddenly this time I found
I'm on the streets and I'm all alone

Yesterday's got nothin' for me
Old pictures that I'll always see
I ain't got time to reminisce old novelties

Yesterday's got nothin' for me
Yesterday's got nothin' for me
Yesterday's got nothin' for me
Yesterday

Yesterday GnR, Use your illusion II

Hot Wheels

The first Hot Wheel car I laid eyes on was a Silhoutte, which was part of a set that Steve got as a present (birthday?) and that was it...we were hooked!
The cars were heavy and colorful, some had little surfboards (Deora, beach bugs, etc.), and the sets got bigger and bigger. Roger wanted a "Hot Wheels hot curves race action set", and he got it for Xmas. We would go to Rascos, next to MDX at the Quad, and behind the cash register, there was a large display of cars for sale, just $1.00 each, and the man would let you check each one out as impatient customers pushed by to check out...So many choices, all awesome, so hard to decide!!
Seems like every kid on the block had Hot Wheels. The kids down the street had the LeMans Fords and Lolas. The kids up the street had the Vickys and Hot Heaps, with the black roofs. There seemed to be a MILLION different Hot Wheels, and you never found a twin.
We used to put that old orange clamp higher and higher on the stairs to get more speed, which required a longer and longer track to see just where the momentum ran out. I remember that Roger's Police cruiser travelled the farthest, but it suffered an untimely end...
We even had a neighborhood competition,at our house, complete with prize money, and the bad kids from way up the street won...BOO!!
I think that Steve was the first [also] to get a Sizzler, a Mustang Boss 302, and we had a long track (must have cost a fortune!) that travelled completely around the fireplace, and Steve's car was so fast, it flew off at every turn!!
We later got the Sizzlers "California 500" race set, a little Indianapolis 500, complete with little antenna that clipped to the cars to count laps! Great toy!!
I think we got 9 cars on it once, a great race for half a lap until the cars started flying off the track!
Fast forward to the future...We were on the ground floor of the Hot Wheels boom, yet we had no idea that the cars would be worth alot of cash someday...I remember our demolition derbys!!!If we only knew that these cars, and not so much the "Johnny Lightning" cars, which were just wierd, would stand the test of time! The hot cars right now are the "Custom Fleetside", and the "Classic Cord", but a few dealers know about, and have the rare colors, light blue is hot, but surprisingly the Chrome "Boss Hoss" cars that only Hot Wheels club "members" could get, seem to be a dime a dozen...I guess there were alot of members in the Hot Wheels clubs! Some dealers even have the prototypes for sale, which cost more than my Kawasaki 400 triple!
The real experts know all the rare colors, have NIB cars that go for 300-plus dollars, and I know that Roger, predictably, took great care of his Hot Wheels... he was noticably absent at our crash-fests, and he'll probably send both his girls through college when he finally trades in his collection.
As for me, I have a few cars lying around...I have a lime green truck, "Short Order", that was the last Hot Wheel car I bought new from Rascos, I remember hemming and hawing over my decision,in 1971, I think. I also have a red "Custom Dodge Charger", along with an early gold "Custom Mustang", a perfect Vicky in "antifreeze" color, with a black roof, a dark green Lotus turbine (wedgy!), and my best car, a first-year perfect red Mongoose funnycar, with all it's stickers intact! I just bought a Deora (red, no surfboards, to me the classic hot-wheel, complete with skinny front and REAR wheels!), and I'm now looking for a first year yellow snake!
Also, I just found out that I have the entire California 500 Sizzlers set in my garage, complete with 4 cars, which have faded chrome and dead batteries. Surprisingly, the Sizzlers cars and race sets don't fetch such high prices, but there is a few people back east that will restore them for me...
I was thinking about all this, as I scoured Evil-bay for Hot Wheels, and I decided to take a break and take the trash to the curb. I turned the corner and saw our mustang gt, in "antifreeze, and with 5-spoke wheels! I guess I never got over those Hot Wheels, and by judging by the comments from strangers about the mustangs' color, alot of other people never got over them either!
Chris

4020 Mt. Brundage

A few thoughts about the first house I remember as a kid...
Watching Steve and Roger walk to school from the backyard swings, which were way in the back of the huge yard, past the pool, through a path. I could just see the school from there across the canyon. I would spend hours on that swingset, wishing that I could go to school, too,(I was 4) and realizing that I wouldn't get out again for 13 years!
We had Birds of Paradise plants and I think Banana leaf (?) plants also. My favorite was the huge pine tree, which I used to climb up, all the way to the point where the tree would sway under my weight! I could see everything from up there, and I don't remember anyone looking for me!
I remember sonic booms happening about 10 times a day, along with those airplanes with the huge plate on top (record player planes, really E-2c Hawkeyes) and Flying Banana helicopters (Huey CH-46?) along with countless jets. There was an airraid siren that would go off at noon everyday, which sounded very far away.
I remember a Christmas where I got two WWI airplanes, on red Fokker, and one Yellow Sopwith Camel, which I loved. I actually found a yellow wingtip in my junk a few years back. I also remember getting a car carrier with one yellow and one red Corvette, probably Tonka. Another Chrismas I remember was when I got a big "Flying Tiger" airplane, complete with 3 red machine guns on the nose, and a bomb that you could drop with the push of a button! Amy got a big metal doll house that year, and I would strafe it, machine guns blasting away, as Amy screamed, and I would drop a bomb on the roof, which would just roll off!
Once in first grade, my lunchbox and jacket got stolen from school, and Steve and I found them 2 weeks later in the creek by the drainpipe, an oily mess, people must have been Constantly changing thier engine oil, and letting it run down the gutters!
I knew the jacket was toast, but for some reason, I had to get my thermos and drink the milk!
Steve kept saying, "You don't want to do that!", along those lines, but I did anyway, and was rewarded with chunks on my face! Thakfully, I don't remember the smell!
Amy and I were invited to a birthday party for a little girl across the street, and Mom got her a huge tea set, about 2 feet square, or so it seemed at the time! Mom wrapped it for us, but the paper wasn't big enough to cover the sides, you could plainly read "Tea set" on both sides of the present! Amy and I complained, but Mom sent us on our way...When we got to the party, the little girl immediatly read the side of the box, and we felt bad for about 1 second until we realised that she was totally thrilled by the present!
My first tricycle came home with Dad one night, it wasn't my birthday, as I remember! It had a huge clear reflector in the front, and I rode it around the block about 100 times before Dad called me in on account of darkness!
The first time I rode a bike, it was rogers' (The red one with the basket) and I could ride it pretty good, but I remember Roger helping me along...I do remember getting my own bike later,I inherited the red bike with the basket, but the first day I had it, I left it at school, and that was that!
Roger later got a Green Rollfast, with a big "R" on the front (irony?) and Steve had a purple Royce-Union, I later broke the frames on both theese bikes at Alcazar, jumping them in the canyon. A bike I couldn't break was Amys' pink "girls bike" and when jumping it, the other kids used to make fun of me, until they realised that they couldn't keep up!
We flew alot of kites, the kids on the block had realistic toy guns,which shot pellets across the street, milk came in glass bottles, there was a bakery truck that came around in the morning with free dohnuts for the kids, and our house number was on the street sign!

MCR...trying to post a video!

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My'>http://www.myspace.com/mychemicalromance">My Chemical Romance's Myspace Page

The Canyon

Looking back on it , I now realize that my parents should have bought a different house, in a different part of town, a nice sub-division maybe, on FLAT ground, far, far away from the relentless siren song that every neighborhood kid could always hear, and the parents' radar was seemingly deaf to. I'm talking about The Canyon!!!
The canyon was every childs' dream, and every parents' nightmare. A regular no-rules playground for the youth of America, the canyon held many secrets and dangers, yet was totally accessable, just a few steps away from any house on the culdesac.
To the parents, it represented financial security. Imagine what a natural park in your own backyard would do for your houses' resale value! They fought tooth and nail to keep that canyon undeveloped, and in the end, they won the battle, but was the war lost?
If our parents onlyknew what went on in that canyon, they might have reconsidered the battle...
From our backyard, you could see the road to Sam Snead golf course, and a few holes, also. This was the benign part of the canyon, just a pond full of poliwogs, frogs, and crayfish, which could be caught with ease. To the north was an area which was fast being developed into new tracts, and a bulldozer was not an unusual sight here...
The real action was to the south-east, following the culdesac around to where the houses overlooked the golfcourse parking lot and driving range. Kids used to dig up huge fossilised rocks and roll them down the hill, where they would pick up speed and jump off the dranage ramp just 20 feet above the parking lot. When these rocks clear the parking lot fences, and would land on the lot, thier twenty foot fall would cause every stone in the parking lot to jump a few feet on impact, followed by a large BOOM!!!More than a few times the golf course regulars would return to thier cars to find huge boulders jammed under thier wheels!
At the very end of the driving range was the creek, which ran end to end through the canyon. For some reason, this was the smelliest, most rank part of the creek, filled with golf balls from aggressive golfers and topped with a thin film of oil. Durring a heavy rain, you could actually don a bathing suit and travel down the entire creek (high tide) without a boat, just paddling at times in the 6-foot deep water, but we always stopped before we reached the driving range... I actually rode my bike to school through the canyon durring a heavy rain, and fording the deep creek where it crossed my path, it was the long way for sure,but I had my best friends with me, and we finally arrived at school 2 hours late, covered in mud...You only live once!
To the west of the driving range was a place that few kids ventured into, a place that was where the coyotes lived.
I ventured through that area just once, it was dark, had a low celing of overgrown branches, and was full of coyote dens. You got the feeling you were being watched as you walked, bent over, through the thick trees and bushes.
The whole area south of the driving range was a sea of green, but under the brush, hidden from view, there were vast and countless trails, just two feet high, and a one foot wide path cleared of any brush and leaves, zig-zagging through the bushes and trees. These were roads well travelled by the countless canyon coyotes which populated the area. No-mans' land.
About 100 yard from the end of the driving range were large growths of huge oak trees, all fit with the finest treehouses you could find.
The treehouses, just lumber and plywood, appeared unused. This is because Poison Ivy had infested the large oaks. Most smart kids would spend a single day there, never to return.
To the South was a wide access road running over the hills, for the electic company to access thier power towers. This road cut across the entire canyon north to south, and on occassion a huge truck would come through to clean the towers with a loud, high-pressure water jet. This was one of those frightening sights that any normal kid just couldn't look away from.
Farther in was Morris hill. This was a steep clearing on the south slope cut into the brush when Mike Morris drove his Dodge Power Wagon up the access road, and just bashed his way down the brush, therefore making a steep climb that proved to be the biggest challenge in the canyon!
Trucks and motorcycles would come from miles around to challenge Morris hill. The hard part was 3/4 way up where the rock was the steepest and slipperiest, and it took a healthy truck, with alot of power to conquer the hill. 4 wheel drive and a good run was required. Motorcycles needed at least 250ccs, but on occasion, a good rider with a 125cc bike could make it. Only the bravest truckers and motorcyclists rode back DOWN the hill!
Farther east was Brown cliffs, so named for the color of the rock, which only showed itself 1/2 way up.
This was a challenging climb for any kid, and once completed, we would sit for hours on the summit, admiring the view. Above this was the flats of Linda Vista, where you could walk through the ruins of long lost military housing, just blocks and blocks of debris, foundations, and the odd appliance. They finally cleaned this area up, and put in trailers...
At the base of Brown cliffs, was our parents' worst nightmare, the swing.
Some crazy kid had shimmeyed up a large oak to tie a large oak to tie an old, fraying rope about 30 feet up from the rocky floor, and as stupid kids, being egged on by the older kids, we would walk up the base of the cliff, holding the rope with one hand, and run as fast as we could towards the rocky floor, jump onto the rope, and swing with such velocity as to become vertical, therefore touching the branches of the tree on the other side, some 25 feet above the ground!
As fun and exciting as it was, many kids got hurt, and that's all I want to say about that.
Another quarter mile to the east was a huge tree that wasn't infested with poison ivy. This tree held a real working tree fort, complete with walking planks and faded Playboy magazines littering the floor.
Next was the "Fork, a mellow little hill with a split near the top that circled around on itself. This was the training ground of those intrepid hill climbers hoping to one day conquer Morris hill.
Farther south-east was Baby White cliffs, which was really just a white stone area at the top of the canyon.
If you venture up, you would find a vast maze of coyote trails, and you could slide down the entire face on one foot, following the trails, with thick green brush just inches over your head!
To the west slope was an old rusted blue 1954 Chevy Bel Air coupe, half hidden by a large bush. Years ago it was probably driven into the canyon and left for dead. The last time I saw it, it's front grill was still intact.
Many motorcyclists would find recreation in this canyon, and it was always a thrill to watch them ride by...The Elsinores, Huskys, Suzukis, with thier trademark exhaust smell, both sweet and oily. One day, two policemen rode in with thier greenYamaha 360 Enduros. They stopped to talk to us, and with a satisfied smirk, they described thier mission as one to rid the canyon of dirt bike riders. We knew that thier heavy Yamahas didn't stand a chance against a race-only CZ or Bultaco, which were both regular sights in the canyon...
Way out to the East end of the canyon was White cliffs, a huge white sandstone monument about 30 feet high, slippery, unclimbable, and difficult to reach on foot. This was the most famous feature of the canyom, and there was even a legend associated with it, something about a young mother who through her baby off of the cliffs, and now her spirit is forever searching the area for her babys' bones!
Above the cliffs, were the one place I spent the most time, the "Flats".
This was a large, undeveloped area where a kid could ride his bike for hours, with lots of natural featurs and gullys to make things interesting!
Many kids organized long race tracks using the natural terrain, where we would set up competitions to find the fastest riders and pertend we were Motocross stars. At times, we had to dodge the real motorcycles, but his just fuelled our fire!
Last time I checked, the flats were a new neighborhood, the golf course was still there, and the canyon had become a natural park!

Now for a brief musical interlude...

When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city, to see a marching band.
He said son when you grow up, would you be the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned?
He said will you defeat them, your demons, and all the non-believers, the plans that they have made?
Because one day, I'll leave you, a phantom, to lead you in the summer, to join the black parade.
Some times I get the feeling, she's watching over me, and other times I feel like I should go.
And through it all, the rise and fall, the bodies in the streets. And when your gone we want you all to know
We'll carry on. We'll carry on. And though your dead and gone, believe me.Your memory will carry on.
We'll carry on. And in my heart I can't contain it, the anthem won't explain it
A world that sends you reeling from decimated dreams. Your misery and hate will kill us all.
So paint it black, and take it back, let's shout it loud and clear. Defiant to the end we hear the call.
To carry on, We'll carry on. And though you're dead and gone, believe me, your memory will carry on, We'll carry on. and though you're broken and defeated, Your weary widow marches...
On and on we carry through the fears. Dissapointed faces of your peers.
take a look at me, 'cause I could not care at all.
Do or die, You'll never make me. because the world will never take my heart. Go and try, You'll never break me.
We want it all, we want to play this part.
I won't explain, or say I'm sorry. I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scar.
Give a cheer, for all the broken, listen hear, because it's who we are.
I'm just a man, I'm not a hero, just a boy who had to sing this song, I'm just a man, I'm not a hero. I dont care!
we'll carry on, we'll carry on, and though you're dead and gone believe me, your memory will carry on, we'll carry on, and though you're broken and defeated, your weary window marches on.
We'll carry on.
"Welcome to the Black Parade" -My Chemical Romance

My Favorite Summer

This may be a little late, but I thought I'd slide it in before Thanksgiving...
Around 1976-77, I had a Boogie Board, a first year rendition of a Morey, but the only designation imbedded on the deck was "132 B.E."
Later Boogie Boards also read "Morey Boogie", along with the "132 B.E." which suggested that mine was an early kit, and was probably assembled at home using a common clothes iron!
Dad worked in Pacific Beach, just a few blocks from Crystal Pier, as I remember, so one summer morning I asked him if he would drive me to the beach on his way to work, and he gladly agreed!
We hopped into his Faded red (Damn Italian tank paint, dad would cuss, when describing the cars' heavily oxidized 5-year old finish) 1971 Fiat 124 sport coupe, and I would just walk to the beach from Copley. This would become our daily ritual all summer long...
I would surf all morning, and around noon, I would walk the 6-blocks or so to his work. He would let me in the office (remember the loud buzzer?), and I would walk through the place with my sandy board leaving a trail on the carpet.
My hair (long, at the time), was a dripping rats nest and my shirt and bathing suit were stuck to my wet skin...
"This is my son!", he would say proudly to his co-workers, and thier usual comments to me included, "been surfing?".
We would have lunch in his office, usually Romano's roast beef sandwiches (Still the best, I can still taste them, is Romano's still there?), and Dad would show little regard for the messy trail of sand and sea water I had just left in his office, hallway, chairs, etc, instead he would be showing me his latest project or electronic printing gadget...
After lunch, it was back to the beach for me, for more waves (when you go every day, you get some great rides!) girl watching, and talking to other surfers, about 50% of which were from out of town, all cool dudes, though...
Around 5:00p, I would walk back to Copley, and if Dad wasn't ready, I would go next store to the Suzuki/Kawasaki motorcycle shop and look at the wierd street bikes with no camshafts (maybe that's why I held onto my triple, this shop was full of triples!) and soon Dad would come out and we would drive home.
A few times, he would be at the beach when I finally dragged myself out of the water, and I was thrilled to hear him say he saw me out there...
I still can't remember what we would talk about on the drives, or at lunch...I guess it was the typical father/teenager B.S., but I can remember that there was never a dull, or discouraging moment...Great summer, no worries.
I'm happy to report that I have now taught my girls to Boogie Board, and we go as often as we can...
Chris

Two miles a minute

I have been in the auto industry since 1985, where I got a job making European automobiles legal for sale in the USA.
These cars were purchased by private parties in Europe, and shipped over to us, Import Auto Technologies, where we would "Federalize" them, that is, install the necessary headlights, bumpers, door-beams, speedometers, and smog equipment to make them legal in the USA.
The advantage to the private party, over buying the factory mandated USA version, would be a large sum of cash in thier pocket, along with the ownership of a special model not imported to the USA.
On any given day, our busy shop would be the home of around 10 Ferraris, 20 Mercedes Benzes, 10 BMWs, a handfull of Porsches, and a few stragglers, like the Renault Turbo-2, a special construction rally race car , with a 200 HP engine installed where the back seat used to be, or the Porsche 924 GTR, a car never intended to leave the race track, now being modified to be as close to street legal as possible with the seemingly unlimited funds of it's impatient owner...
Most of these cars were extremely fast, 150-plus MPH fast! Some exceptions include the string of Porsche 930 Turbo's brought in by a Texas businessman with highly modified motors, one that was suspected of topping 200MPH with a full-race 934 engine, or Sylvester Stallone's Black Mercedes 500 SEC, complete with wide fender flares, and a one-off (at the time) AMG 4-camshaft motor, with about 400 HP and headgaskets that seeped oil! This was Sly's wedding gift to Bridget Nielson!
Now I got the chance to drive many of these cars, on a weekly basis, but for some reason, I never had the opportunity to go over 120MPH!
At the time, I rarely drove a car with more than 100HP (or MPH) in it, so when I got to drive a car with triple the potential of my Datsun 1600, it was unforgettable!
The Texan's 930 Porsche that I drove with the boost knob between the seats (clockwise adds HP!) ran up to 120MPH on the 55 freeway with little effort, but I just had to shut off after that, it felt like I was doing 60...
The 1985 Ferrari TestaRossa, with 380 un-smogged HP would do 90MPH in second at redline, but even though I took it through 3rd gear in the streets of Anahiem, I can't be sure I was doing 120-plus, because at the time, the speedo cluster was at the shop being converted to MPH numbers! That car was so fast and effortless, any gap in traffic, even blocks away, was just a push of the gas pedal away, no noise or drama, just nudge the pedal down, and you were there! Road and Track got an American Tessarosa to do 186MPH, and this European version I was driving felt like every bit of it was possible...
Oddly enough, I finally broke my 120MPH barrier, but it was on my friend Bruce Batson's Kawasaki 900 Ninja, which was slightly modded, had the rear brake removed, and Bruce swore he could get the speedo to read 160MPH!
My own 1975 Kawasaki 400 triple would do 106MPH with about 60HP, but that was in top gear, at 9500RPM, which was 1000RPM over the redline!
I rode the 120HP Ninja in the hills of Alpine, near San Diego, and it had a nice wide powerband, narrow handlebars, and at 125MPH, the motor was yowling for more at 9200RPMs, while I was hanging on for dear life! The wind blast felt like it was going to grab me by the back of the neck, and pull me from the bike!
That was enough for me, I mellowed out for a while, if just to give my already stressed driving record some time to recover!
I did do 125 once more, just recently on my friend Mel's 1998 Yamaha R1 (1000cc, 170 modded HP, 440 lbs), when he pleaded with me to trade bikes so he could ride my 400 triple. The R1 was big, long, and light. The shifter was heavy, and the throttle was super sensitive, the slightest twist brought an instant speed increase.
The first time I hit it in 1st, I got a big wheelie with only 1/2 throttle!
Forwarned, I eased it through 1st and 2nd, and pegged it in third! I felt the front end get light at 11,000 RPM in third, and glanced at the digital speedo, 124MPH on PCH!
I later found out from Mel that the bike comes alive at 11,000 RPM, and I was really on othe rear wheel at the time, at 124MPH!
The bike was really smooth, minor wind blast was noticed, but on this bike, you REALLY have to be paying attention when you crack the throttle even a little bit! Intersections, autos, and obstacles come at you in a surreal speed, all the while, your head is trying to bend itself back from the acceleration, which can only be described as mind nunbing. Yet, at the same time, your survival skills go into overdrive as you force every ounce of your focus to the task at hand.
Mel , who has owned the bike since new, casually states that you get used to it after awhile...
Yamaha's latest R1 makes about 20 more HP than Mel's bike, must be quite a ride!!

Losing Respect

It must have been around 1968, when my family moved from one end of San Diego to seemingly the other end...
I was in the middle of first grade at my old school, a model student, straight A's, an apple-for-the-teacher attitude, etc.
My new school was packed with pupils. The bike racks were overfilled (only freaks got car rides in those days), kids resorted to locking thier bikes to the fences. The halls and swingsets were jammed at recess.
There was this row of 6 big bungalows jammed against the fences on the east end of the playground, to accomidate at least 230 extra students, The Bungalows were a common sight at public schools durring the Baby Boom. They were shipped in on big trucks, sat about 4 feet off the ground, had creaky floors, and smelled strongly of Redwood.
My new first grade class was in a Bungalow, and my earliest memory of my new class was when the teacher informed me that I was to make up 66 pages of math homework, essentially starting the generic, seen-in-all-public-schools, math book from scratch!
I tried to inform this woman that I was already half-way through the school year! I was actually ahead of my new class!
She wouldn't listen, and stubbornly told me that I would fail if I didn't make up the assignments, which I eventually completed...
The whole episode confused me; I was taught that I was to respect my elders, and thier word was Gospel, but this old woman was clearly unreasonable, or deaf!
Slowly the thought occured to me that just because people were older than me, maybe they didn't have it all together! Maybe they were not infallible, some were just full of $H#T!
After that, I had a new non-appreciation for teachers, H%ll, all adults after that! I decided that I was going to think about what they said to me, not just follow them blindly... From that day on, age was no longer an issue, just content.
Of course, I still held my parents, politicians, and the police in high regard, but at 6 years old, this revelation made me feel both enlightened and lonely!