Family Archives

March 3, 2015March 3, 2015

“Where’s My Change?”

Nanci Griffith sings about having to change buses when going from North Austin to South Austin when she was a teenager. The transfer would give her just enough time to run into the Woolworth’s store, grab a vanilla Coke, look in the record bin and “wink at the boys” on her way to catch the next bus.

In her song, Love at the Five and Dime, she says, “All Woolworth stores are special. They all smell the same. They smell a little bit like popcorn and chewing gum wrapped around the bottom of a leather-soled shoe. They all have the same sound.”

Standing in the toy aisle

She could have been describing the one in Cape. There I was, standing in the toy aisle of Woolworth’s clutching a crumpled, much-handled one-dollar bill and trying to make up my mind.

Just down the aisle from the toy section was the long lunch counter. It produced a mixture of sounds: silverware clinking on heavy china plates, the whirrrr of mixers cranking out milkshakes, the squeak of the revolving vinyl-covered red stools, and the low murmur of the town’s movers and shakers solving the problems of the world while sitting next to teenagers on dates and mothers with kids in tow.

Vintage soap scum

Sensing that Mother was getting impatient, I finally picked the toy boat on the right, something that is still covered with soap scum from probably around 1955.

It was marked “99¢”

I handed my limp dollar bill to the cashier and stood waiting patiently. She finally noticed I was still there and said, “Is there something else?”

“I’m waiting for my penny change.” Even then, I was a hard negotiator who was determined nobody was going to rip me off.

“There is no change”

“There IS no change,” she dismissed. “The toy was 99¢ and there is a penny tax. That’s the whole dollar.”

That was a rude awakening. I must have been about 6, and my faith in math and economics was shattered. It was much like when Son Matt got his first paycheck at 13 or 14 and came in hollering, “Who is this FICA dude and why is he taking my money?”

I can’t wait until we plop the grandkids in the tub to give another generation a chance to float those boats. I’m gonna get my buck’s worth.

February 27, 2015February 24, 2021

The Circle Grows Smaller

Mother called with shocking, though not totally unexpected news: Katy Proctor, one of her closest friends had died. She and her husband had been in ill health some time, but Mother and Katy still talked and visited fairly frequently.

In 2001, Brother Mark and I surprised Mother by renting a couple of stretch limos and taking her and her friends to a birthday dinner. We planned it for a month before her actual birthday so she wouldn’t expect anything. Katy and her husband, Woody, were part of the crowd.

The group decided they wanted to see and be seen in their limos. As they cruised down Broadway, throngs of people lined the street, and she thought that maybe the whole town had turned out to celebrate her birthday. It was actually spectators showing up for the SEMO Homecoming parade, but, what the heck.

There was some discussion about mooning the crowd, but the folks in MY limo were talked out of it. I can’t testify as to the behavior of the rowdy senior citizens in the other car.

Unfortunately, most of the people in this photo are no longer with us, something that makes Mother feel increasingly more isolated.

Katy’s obituary

Kathryn Revelle (Katy) Proctor passed away on Feb 24 2015 at Assisted Living West at the Lutheran Home. She was born on November 23, 1920 at Hickory Ridge, Missouri to Melvin and Chlora McNeely Revelle. She grew up in Delta and graduated from Delta High School. She married Woodrow Proctor on June 7, 1941 at Oran, Missouri. They lived at Chaffee until 1964 when they moved to Cape Girardeau. She was cafeteria manager at Franklin School for 22 years. After her retirement she worked at Mothers Day Out at Lynwood Baptist church many years and volunteered at the Fish Food Pantry and SE Hospital Auxillary.

She is survived by her husband of 73 years, Woodrow Proctor, a son, David (Jeanie) Proctor of Nellysford, VA, a daughter, Brenda (John) Faris of Cape Girardeau. Five grandchildren, Stephen Faris (Jenny Weiss) of Cape Girardeau, Stuart (Megan) Faris of Webster Groves, Mo, Amy (Jack) Leachman of Asheville, NC, Andrea (Tarlton) Brewer of Richmond VA, and Kipp Proctor of Bozeman, MT and three great grandchildren Delia and Grady Faris of Webster Groves and Mary Grace Brewer of Richmond. She is also survived by a sister, Audrey Kitchen of Union, Mo.

She was preceded in death by her parents, 6 brothers and 4 sisters.

Active in organizations

I did some newspaper searches several years back for some celebration Katy’s family had planned.

The November 9, 1961, Missourian had a society brief that The Fern Herrington Intermediate G.A.s of Calvary Baptist met at the church on Monday to study, under the guidance of their counselor, Mrs. Woodrow Proctor, the chapter on “Germany, A Nation Divided,” from the book, Teen Traveler Abroad.

Woody served in World War II

A brief in the August 6, 1945, Missourian said that Pfc. Ralph W. Proctor of Chaffee, a member of the 13th AAF Bomber Command in the Philippines, had been promoted to corporal in the Netherlands East Indies, according to a dispatch from headquarters overseas. Corp. Proctor, son of Mr. and Mrs. Joe Proctor, joined the service in December, 1942, and saw his first action with the veteran “Jungle Air Force” in June 1943, at Guadalcanal. His wife, Mrs. Kathryn Revelle Proctor, lives at Chaffee.

Squabbles

Mark and I were always amused at how the group of women were constantly squabbling and getting on the outs with each other, then reuniting like nothing had happened.

We’re going to miss her

Katy had an infectious grin that wrapped all the way around face, she could talk a mile a minute, and break out laughing at the least little thing.

She was a good friend to Mother. We’re all going to miss her.

February 21, 2015

Even Her Mug Shot Is Cute

Not everybody can look cute in a mug shot with a number under their chin.

Had Wife Lila elected a life of crime, the FBI would have had a tough time keeping her picture on the Post Office walls because teenage boys would have been snagging them to hang next to their Farrah Fawcett and Cheryl Tiegs posters.

Pre-politically correct SEMO

This Southeast Missouri State College ID was issued while the school still had a newspaper called The Capaha Arrow, a yearbook named The Sagamore, and Chief Sagamore was a fixture at all the football games.

I removed Lila’s Social Security number and birth year to thwart ID thieves. I don’t know what all the holes that are punched out signify. The top evidently refers to the school year, but I don’t what the 1 through 25 boxes are for.

Here’s what happened to Chief Sagamore.

Capaha Arrow turns 100 as The Arrow

February 17, 2015

We’re the Same Age

For 36 days a year (37 during Leap Year), Wife Lila and I are the same age.

I won’t tell you what that age is this year, but if we once believed that you couldn’t trust anyone over 30, we are more than twice as untrustworthy as we were when we said that.

One thing about it, she can sure blow out a candle quickly and leave not so much as a tendril of smoke behind. Neighbor Bill/Jacqie provided the cake; the boys took her out for dinner and gave her a Fitbit to document that she’s still moving, and I got her a coffee table art book on The Florida Highwaymen.

It was a good day.