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| I wish I knew which was Mary Neil. My dad is in the back row leaning against the door frame on the left. |
The school year
was going fast and I had been letting tomcatting around with Roundtree on
weekends interfere with my studying.
After I cut that out, I buckled down to it especially after Mary Neil
had made 100% on a history test and I only got 96%.
Soon my fifteenth
birthday came and I knew that Mr. Mitchell would have to say who the
valedictorian would be before long as graduation was only a month away. (The
length of the school year was different then.
I believe it was adjusted so that the older children would be out of
school in time to help with spring planting.
Anyway, our graduation was scheduled for the evening of April 2nd
at the Bona Church.)
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| An example of flour sack dresses during the Great Depression |
A few days later
during a nice spring afternoon, at the end of the school day when he dismissed
us, Mr. Mitchell quietly said, “The rest of you are excused but I would like
for Conrad and Mary Neil to stay for a little while.”
The others filed
out casting knowing smiles at us. They
had known all along that it would be between Mary and me. I looked sidewise across the room at
her. She was sitting very straight with
her hands folded in the lap of her faded cotton print dress and with her chin
set determinedly. She turned her head to
look at me so I quickly looked away and stared at the picture of Sir Lancelot
and his horse on the wall above Mr. Mitchell’s desk until he said, “Come up
here, both of you.”
We stood side by
side in front of his desk waiting.
Mitchell reached into a drawer and took out two slim books—one red, the
other blue—and laid them on his desk.
The title of the blue one was “Valedictories” and the red one was
“Salutatories”.
Mitchell studied
us and said, “Relax. I want you to know
that I am really proud of both of you. You
are, without a doubt, two of the best students I have had in my classroom and I
know that you will both go far. The
competition was good for both of you and forced you to do your best.
“I will not keep
you in suspense any longer. Mary you did
better than Conrad in History, a little better in Geography, and you were dead
even in English. Conrad had a definite
edge in Mathematics and Science. It was
close and I congratulate you both.”
He picked up the
two thin volumes and handed the blue one to me and the red one to Mary. I must say that she took it without
wincing. She touched my arm and said
softly, “I’m glad for you, Conrad.”
There was just a trace of moisture in her pale blue eyes. At that moment I almost liked her.
Mr. Mitchell said,
“Don’t memorize any of the sample speeches in those books—they are old
fashioned. Just get the idea and write
your own. I would like to see them next
Monday. You can go home now.”
The other had all
gone so I walked the mile to Bona with Mary Neil. She didn’t say much, maybe because she was
not used to walking with boys. I was
happy as a turkey gobbler in a polkberry patch, but somehow, I could not lord
it over her.
She had a
threadbare sweater over her well-washed print dress. I knew that the Cook Neils did not have
much. In fact, Cook Neil was one of the
regular loafers at Grandpa’s store. I do
not know how he kept groceries in that little shack, much less clothes.
I felt sort of
guilty somehow. I said lamely, “You sure
are smart for a girl, Mary. Maybe you
should have won.”
She smiled wanly
and answered, “It doesn’t matter, Conrad—I’m used to sucking hind tit.”
“Hah,” I scoffed,
“you won’t always be. You know what I
bet? I bet that when our graduate from
Dadeville High School in a couple of years you’ll get a scholarship and go on
to teacher’s college or something.” I
grinned at her. “I won’t be here so you
won’t have to worry about me!”
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| Dorthea Lange Photo |
By then we were at
the crossroad in front of Grandpa’s store.
She laughed and, unexpectedly, held out her small hand to shake hands
with me. “I hope you have good luck out
there in Washington,” she said, then she turned and marched down the hill
clutching that little red book.
