The band room of Henrietta High School, Henrietta, Texas, 1960: I was a hot-shot rudimental drummer, the head of the drum section. My associates were Noah on the bass drum, and … Linda on cymbols.
Noah had it easy. Just hit the bass drum on every beat.
Cymbols are more difficult, because you must stand, counting measure after measure, and sooner or later you get the the one place where you clash the cymbols together with a great flourish.
Linda had a bad habit of counting wrong. Sometimes we had cymbol clashes in the middle of soft passages. Often we passed the correct spot, and when Mr. Raeke glared, we got a kind of belated cymbol crash.
All this reflected upon me, the head of the drum section, so I tried to keep an eye on Linda, and helped her count the measures, whilst playing the rudimental snare part.
Although not particularly good at counting measures, she’d grown even more breathtaking from the first time I’d ever seen her walking down the street, and on this particular day she wore a snug black medium-weight turtleneck sweater which showed off her lovely figure to perfection, each perfect breast the stuff of dreams.
Today she was counting very seriously, and we were drawing near the correct place.
As the band headed into the last two measures, Linda raised the left cymbol high, and lowered the right cymbol low. Standing upright, her head and shoulders nodding in time, she counted down the last four beats.
Up came the measure, and the cymbols swung!
“Thunk.”
No stunning crash. Just a muffled sound. I looked at Linda’s face, but her eyes were blank, staring into space far beyond the ceiling of the room. It was pain. Wordless. Pain beyond speech.
She had caught her left breast between the cymbols.
Richard, do you remember Sara Lee and Ricky Moyer?
I am in Austin for weekend with Earnestine Duncan, Kaye Yeager, Sharon Massey, Glinda Gilcrest, Linda Johnson and Carolyn Martin. They told me how famous you are and you changed your name.
I am not on Facebook for I am challenged in that area!
My phone is 214-537-0256 and saralee300@gmail.com
Rick is on Facebook
Hope all is well with you!
Sara Lee
Hi, Sara Lee,
Of course I remember you. I thought you were both pretty and fun. I remember your old room in the victorian across from your Grandmothers, and also after you moved into what had been your Grandmother’s home.
Though I don’t think that any of these stories include you, Ricky is mentioned incidentally in a couple of stories here. Here’s one —
https://bloggard.com/god-save-the-queen/
https://bloggard.com/death-passing-by/
And your mom is mentioned in passing here —
https://bloggard.com/the-bottle-rockets/
It’s good to hear from you, and I understand you’ve become famous. Cool beans.
If I have become famous, nobody told me, but I did change my name. It tells about that here —
https://bloggard.com/how-i-became-cronos/
Hanging out with Earnestine, Kaye, Sharon, Glinda, Linda and Carolyn? How totally fun and delicious!
Give Carolyn a hug for me: I’ve spent an entire lifetime thinking she’s absolutely wonderful. And haven’t seen her in years and years.
Hope all is well with you and Ricky. Give my love to all.
— Arthur (Richard)
Talk about coincidence. I was moving some books, among which were several school yearbooks from Allen Military Academy) and ran across the photo of Rick Moyer when he we there. I also spent 4 years at Allen. Was over in Henrietta a couple of weeks back and passed by Rick and Sara Lee’s house. There were a few parties there back in the late 50’s/early 60’s which I can remember. I was in love with two young ladies from Henrietta. One was Sara Lee – never let her know. The other was Glinda (I always thought it was Glenda) Gilchrist. Small world in which we live.
Hey, Doc Wood,
I thought Sara Lee was lovely all the time, and I certainly felt lust for Glynda. And there is an interesting story about Glynda and Ricky and their parents, which was hugely and which I am too much a gentleman to relate.
However, I WILL tell you a story about Glynda, when she had married my friend Pat McConnell, and about a panther. Well, kind of a panther.
Here’s the story — Glynda and Pat
Enjoy?
PS: I’ve seen Cowboy Poetry before. Dig your page here — Doc Wood Poem
PPS: Cool beans!