For the students of Colerain High School and their friends, life in Cincinnati in the 1950s was an adventure. Now, one of their own shares a look into their lives. This is a story exposing the life of your grandparents. Yes, the lives of your grandmother, the silver-haired beauty that bakes your favorite cakes and cookies, who can soothe any hurt, and who allows you to do anything you wish, and your grandfather, the gentleman, of seemingly never-ending wisdom, experience, and knowledge, who can guide you to the correct decision, and will never say no. In a time long ago, the genteel women and the kindly men of today led a completely different, seemingly out-ofcharacter life. This is a chronicle of their escapades. So you wanted to know just how your grandparents lived their lives during the indestructible, wonderful, fantastic, and unmindful time of their teenage life, then this is the story for you, a real story, a story your grandparents will never tell, yet a story they will never forget.

BILLY JACK HIS LIFE HIS STORY HIS WAY

The High School YearsBy William H. Jackson

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 William H. Jackson
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-2795-5

Chapter One

ARRIVAL, 1953

He wasn't a fool. He wasn't oblivious to the almost frantic movement around the house of his mother and grandmother.

School had started, but his mother was not teaching. Everywhere, dresses piled all over, coats strewn in with the dresses, and the seasonal clothes suddenly appeared, scattered on every bed. Although never mentioned, he was fully aware he was moving.

The family decision makers had decided he and his mother were moving. What he thought, well that didn't count. He had tendered his suggestions before, although unrequited, even when their decision concerned his life.

The family had decided he and his mother were moving to Cincinnati. He had officially learned of the move on Thursday evening after supper. He received the information so timely because, on Friday morning, he could inform his teachers he was withdrawing and tell his friends good-bye. He was leaving on Saturday morning.

Once told, he became furious, but he was elated to leave the band. He was irate because he commanded so little respect toward either his feelings or his opinion. For the first time in his life, he gave his family an ultimatum and spoke with authority.

"I'll not go, unless I pick my own curricula, I play sports, and I have nothing to do with music. You may take me, but I won't live the life you pick for me. Without agreement, I'll call my father."

He walked from the room leaving the people sitting in stunned silence. Never had he had such an outburst. He scarcely ever talked with them.

After a while, his mother called to him, "that's acceptable."

He said a clear "thank you" and left the house.

As he was walking out the door, his mother asked, "what do you want packed?"

He answered, "I'm taking my ball glove and tennis shoes. The rest will be up to you."

He then left.

The rest of the time consisted of a constant exchange between his mother and grandmother.

The troop had packed the car the day before. They left Louisa on Saturday morning about nine. With all the clothes "stuffed" in the car, he and his mother sat scrunched in the back. His Uncle Herb drove and his grandmother always rode "shotgun" for a myriad of reasons, mostly because she wanted to.

After about five hours, he and his mother arrived at their destination. He saw a clean, white, two story house near the highway. No sidewalks and the cars zoomed past at fifty or sixty miles an hour.

Taking the luggage, he walked to his second floor room at the end of the hall and came back for his mother's clothes. Taking the clothes, he told everyone good-bye and returned to his room. He did not stay to watch his family leave.

He went immediately to his room in total astonishment where he was living, including the conditions and the area. Supposedly, he was moving to Cincinnati, a city, not a place in the country. He was at least fifteen or twenty-miles from Fountain Square. That was what he considered Cincinnati. He now found himself on Mars.

He was only an Appalachian boy from a small-town. However, a person could walk anywhere around the town. Now he's in the boondocks without sidewalks or paths. He hadn't seen anything commercial when they arrived.

He sat on his cot and thought, What had he wrought?

When his mother arrived after saying her good-byes, he and she met the property owners, Mr. and Mrs. Robinson. Mr. Robinson was a short, stocky person with a head shaped as a bowling ball and just as bald. Both were in their early-sixties, he nearly ready to retire. Mrs. Robinson, with gray hair, had a short stature, but with a slimmer physique than her husband. They appeared hospitable. He was a typesetter working in the city. She was a homemaker.

Their son, his wife, and children occupied the downstairs of the house.

The talk continued including an itemized list of the house rules. The rules affecting him concerned the bathroom, the television, and the telephone. For the bathroom, first come first serve. To watch television or use the telephone, one must receive permission. He and his mother then retired to the one room in Cincinnati that they called their own.

As his mother started with the unpacking he began his tracking of the area. He began with the house and made a thorough examination. As he moved through the area that he would call home, he found three bedrooms, a bathroom, a combined kitchen and dinette, and a sizable room. The area was obviously a combination of the living room and dining room.

The large room had two seating areas, one for watching television and the other for reading.

The second floor entrance came from a stairway attached to the side of the house.

Out he went as he yelled to his mother, "Bye. I'll see you."

Then he scampered down the stairs.

Outside, he looked at the front of the house. There was a large front yard shaded by an outsized oak tree, beautiful but in need of trimming. The house had a pleasing look. A gravel driveway made its way to the downstairs porch from its entrance to the highway.

Walking further down the driveway, he looked up and down the road. He saw three more houses. These homes were also well cared for middle-class homes. He walked down to where the driveway met the road.

Walking toward the hill leading to Groesbeck, he was walking through the front yard of the house next door. While he was gazing around trying to find where he could walk alongside the highway, a young teenager wearing short shorts and a half top with frills caught his eye. She immediately made the kind of cute ranking on his girl scale. While he was trying to concentrate on finding a walkway, she moved closer to him. In fact, she had moved darned close to him, only a few feet away.

She deserved a second look but not by this shy boy. How did she get so close, he asked himself. Nodding his head toward her, he started moving toward the hill, looking over into a large, deep ravine. It was adjacent to the road.

He sensed again, someone was standing behind him. Although he had moved, she followed him. He glanced over his shoulder. There she stood. She evidently followed him step for step.

She had a sly smile and spoke, "Hi. My name is Martha. What's your name?"

"Back home, they call me Billy Jack."

"Did youse guys move into the Robinson house?"

He nodded but didn't speak.

"Did you know that I live beside you? You're standing in my yard."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be silly, I don't mind. Where did youse guys move from?"

While he tried to creep back toward the rooming house, he answered, "We're from far eastern Kentucky, across the big river."

Trying not to snicker, she asked, "Do you mean the Ohio River?" He nodded "yes."

"Where in Kentucky did you live?"

"Louisa, it's near Huntington, West Virginia."

She thought, What a funny accent. She couldn't hide her smile.

"Will you be going to Colerain?"

Still trying to sneak away, he nodded and said "uh-huh."

Then he said, "I'll be seein' you later. Bye."

Martha waved good-bye.

Now he had his first meeting with someone his own age. He knew what would happen, and of course, it did. Martha was polite and although she tried to hide the snickers by turning away, he could still see her smile. What a kind, thoughtful girl who was trying so hard not to embarrass him.

Tomorrow, he thought, I may walk up that hill if I can find a...