| ||||||||||
 
Dr. Ronald P. Rogers CHIROPRACTOR Support for your body's natural healing capabilities 270-384-5554 Click here for details 
  
Columbia Gas Dept. GAS LEAK or GAS SMELL Contact Numbers 24 hrs/ 365 days 270-384-2006 or 9-1-1 Call before you dig 
Visit ColumbiaMagazine's Directory of Churches Addresses, times, phone numbers and more for churches in Adair County Find Great Stuff in ColumbiaMagazine's Classified Ads Antiques, Help Wanted, Autos, Real Estate, Legal Notices, More... 
|
Carol Perkins; Thinking of life as pieces of pie. Part I of II Carol Perkins. She wonders: Where did space between 21 and 66 go? . Carol Perkins columns are frequent features on Sundays with CM The next earlier Carol Perkins column: What's in the Easter basket By Carol Perkins My great niece Megan turned twenty-one on the 10th and my lifelong friend Connie turned sixty-six that same day. As I was wishing Connie a happy birthday, I wondered how we got this old. Where did the space between twenty-one and sixty-six go? Just recently, I was thinking of life as pieces of pie. Why, I don't know, but I did. The pre-school slice is the one we don't remember very well, if at all. I can't remember one single thing prior to entering school. That means nothing bad happened because we always remember the bad. I must have been happy, and I certainly know I pretended and imagined every day. Even though uneventful, that slice of life is supposed to be the most important in the development of one's future. I would call this slice of my life a peach pie since life was peachy back then. The second slice encompasses first through sixth grades. Pre-puberty. Skipping along with a breezy kind of happiness, I glided through those years without thought as to what I wore, who liked me or didn't like me as a boyfriend, or zits. Girls played house during recess and occasionally followed the wooded trail down to the creek behind the school, even though warned to stay away from there. Back on the playground, as high as we could swing, we did. As fast as we could get someone to push us on the merry-go-round, we did. As slick as we could make the sliding board, we did. This slice would be chocolate, the flavor millions crave. Once in a while, we yearn for those carefree days. Bits and pieces of the years between seventh and twelfth grades splatter before me like paint on the canvas of an abstract artist. Life was abstract back then because we couldn't explain why we felt the way we did, acted the way we did, or thought the way we did. Adults were just plain dumb and we tried our best to ignore them. We didn't call it junior high or middle school, but the time between 13-14 was the toughest and still is for most. We had no bullies with whom to contend as far as I knew, but we had ourselves to figure out. Cliques were formed and the popular and unpopular divided. The pretty and awkward now realized their differences. The cute boys and the plain ones emerged and the chase began. Most of us had our first kiss during this time playing spin the bottle. Some had an earlier start. Once in high school, our favorite landscapes were the gym, the cafeteria, the bathrooms, and the hallways at school or the hangouts on the weekends. Neither the classrooms nor our homes were our stages. We were not ourselves at school; we were pretending for the sake of our parents who warned us always to be good and also because we had a healthy respect for our teachers, who were ancient. Girls' interests turned to dating, hairstyles, clothes, transistor radios, and Elvis or the Beatles. Guys were primarily interested in souping up their cars and having a date on Saturday night to the drive-in. The studious parted from the ones who were waiting to quit and go to work. The cliques had often switched players, and athletes became in demand. Nothing mattered as much as winning our games on Tuesday and Friday nights. This slice of pie would be butterscotch because it was a sweet delight. Whether the best days or the worst days, no one comes out without remembering them well. Even though some would say that nothing fun ever happened to them after high school, I can't say that is true. Granted, nothing can compare to those light-hearted days of silliness one minute and then riding on the Wild Mouse of emotional distress the next, but I never bought the idea that life would not provide any pleasure for me after the age of eighteen. However, looking into the faces of older people, married and working and bringing up their two kids, didn't always paint a Norman Rockwell scene. I vowed mine would not be humdrum. I didn't plan for my next slice of life to be coconut. -Carol Perkins (Contact Carol at cperkins@scrtc.com or download her book Let's Talk About... in the Amazon Kindle Store) This story was posted on 2012-04-15 16:22:53
Printable: this page is now automatically formatted for printing.
Have comments or corrections for this story? Use our contact form and let us know. More articles from topic Carol Perkins:
Carol Perkins: What's in the Easter basket Carol Perkins: Only $29.99 Carol Perkins: At the end of the day Carol Perkins: English teachers Carol Perkins: Growing up ugly Carol Perkins: Can't buy me love, love Carol Perkins. Loving Tribute to a very lively Maltese, Fluffy Carol Perkins: Keep It Simple Carol Perkins: Las Vegas, Part II Carol Perkins: Never a Dull Moment View even more articles in topic Carol Perkins |
 
115 Jamestown St. Columbia, KY. 270-384-2496 
  
   
 Provided by the Adair Co Fiscal Court and the Adair Co. Emergency Mgt. Agency 
|
||||||||
|
| ||||||||||
|
Quick Links to Popular Features
Looking for a story or picture? Try our Photo Archive or our Stories Archive for all the information that's appeared on ColumbiaMagazine.com. | ||||||||||
|
Contact us: Columbia Magazine and columbiamagazine.com are published by Linda Waggener and Pen Waggener, PO Box 906, Columbia, KY 42728. Please use our contact page, or send questions about technical issues with this site to webmaster@columbiamagazine.com. All logos and trademarks used on this site are property of their respective owners. All comments remain the property and responsibility of their posters, all articles and photos remain the property of their creators, and all the rest is copyright 1995-Present by Columbia Magazine. Privacy policy: use of this site requires no sharing of information. Voluntarily shared information may be published and made available to the public on this site and/or stored electronically. Anonymous submissions will be subject to additional verification. Cookies are not required to use our site. However, if you have cookies enabled in your web browser, some of our advertisers may use cookies for interest-based advertising across multiple domains. For more information about third-party advertising, visit the NAI web privacy site.
| ||||||||||
