The Torch

from my memoir Beautiful Mountain

I never really liked the movie Camelot. It came out later when I was in junior high school. But, back in grade school, we were all mesmerized by the Kennedys. Everybody in Beaumont wanted to be John John and Caroline. They were our answer to what royalty was.

So, when Mrs. Smith came into our classroom and started to whisper in Mrs. Jarisch’s ear, we perked up, us fourth graders. They only interrupted class for really important things back then. Like the time I stood up on the toilet seat to holler out at my friend Leah Beth and the Pentecostal girl accused me of trying to see her naked parts. They called a class-wide emergency assembly for all the girls with a big speech on the importance of privacy. Everybody knew it was because of the full gospel girl who always wore the long navy blue sailor dress and had waist-length hair. We called her Chrissy doll because it looked like the toy where you turned the dial and her long blonde hair grew and grew.

But, this time, the whisper wasn’t about somebody in a bathroom stall. Mrs. Jarisch stepped up to the front of the room and took the teacher’s podium with each hand clasped white. She was blinking back tears. It was strange as she was a masculine-looking woman with short cropped black hair. You didn’t think of her ever crying and it felt uncomfortable. Scary.