Monday, January 25, 2010

Eight fingers typing...

Thinking back to typing class in high school, there were maybe 3 guys in a classroom of at least 25 individuals of the female persuasion. For a sophomore in high school, this was a dream class until it became evident that the teacher really expected you to learn how to type without looking at your keyboard...sorry, there was no keyboard back then...not sure I remember what you call the area where all the keys were located on those new fangled 'lectric typewriters.

I am sure glad that I managed to conquer a good portion of the skill set needed to pass typing class. Much to my surprise, after I transferred from the old and now vacant South Park High School in Beaumont and got myself enrolled in Kountze High School, a small wide spot in the road just about 20 miles north of Beaumont, and in a Typing II class, all due to the fact there was a vacancy and I had already had one year of typing and was considered worthy.

My teacher in that typing class was Mrs. Faye Robertson. Between myself and one of my running buddies, we pretty much had the focus on us and what we were trying to pull off by taking up a couple of her typing stations. As I remember, I never got any faster than 30-33 words a minute.


Thanks Mrs. Robertson, for your kindness and your patience during my senior year at KHS.

The Class of 1972. The same year that we lost a fellow classmate, Ricky Johnson.

I think back to the emptiness I felt when Ricky didn't show up for first period class the next day. I still remember him begging me to swap seats with him so he could sit behind his heart-throb and varsity cheerleader, Lynn Elmer. I guess I looked and expected Ricky to show up most any day after the accident...probably for about a month or so.

Later on in my working career, I had the unexpected opportunity to work with Ricky's younger brother a short while. Funny how the world comes back around and messes with your mind. Throwing memories out at you from all angles.

That running buddy of mine from typing class, has basically fallen off the face of the earth. I reckon he will show up one day and surprise me.

B. I. Jordan. Known as Brill by many of his I called him Biggun.

Hey Biggun...where you at nowadays? I'm still here in Beaumont, wondering just how the world you're doing. Ain't seen you in a coon's age....better make that 2 or 3 coons ages.

Anybody out there know the whereabouts of a one Brill Jordan, originally from Kountze, Texas, let me know. I will pay upwards of three or four American dollars.

Well, let me go for now... that's more rambling than I have done in a while..take care and keep your feet dry...until next time.....

it is what it is.

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