DEAR READERS. I WANT TO APOLOGIZE FOR NOT GETTING MY BLOG PUBLISHED, THIS WEEK. APPARENTLY, PREPARING TO TRAVEL TO TEXAS TO SEE THE ECLIPSE, KEPT MY TRAIN OF THOUGHT AWAY FROM SENDING OUT THIS ARTICLE. BUT, HERE IT IS – LATE. THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE.
Actually, I don’t remember it being a dirty steel town. Although it was a “working man’s town,” it was the short- and narrow-sightedness of the people who lived there that I found difficult to deal with. “Working man’s town.” Mesa farms. steel mills. foreign workers. businesses to support workers. Union Street – lots of bars, and pleasure “palaces.”
Except for the city librarian. I worked at the library, and she was incredible. She had worked at the Denver Library before being hired to be the city librarian for Pueblo. She taught me such a lot. Was such a mentor for me. Allowed me to do stuff that none of the other kids were allowed to do. Like catalog books. Prepare the cards for the card catalog (no computers, then). Even helped me get a grant for money to go to college. She believed that if you were planning to have young people working with you, it was your job to teach them how to go to work. And, she did.
Every day, during the morning and afternoon, Miss Knox would send one of the kids (high school or college) across the street to bring coffee and pastries or pop and cookies for the entire staff. We would have our break all together in the staff room and discuss stuff. World stuff. She believed that we should have an opportunity to get to know each other as people, as well as talk about real-world things. She helped us become citizens of the world. Great woman!
I do remember that when Centennial (my school) played football against Central (the south side school), we were always creamed! Their kids were the sons of the steel workers and were MEAN! And, BIG! We never had a chance. Our kids were the sons of bankers and office workers. Moms were often home makers and not business people. The teams were dead in the water the minute they walked onto the field.
I did not usually go to football games. I had no social life in high school. I wanted to be a teacher. I knew that from the time I was about twelve. And, to do that I had to have enough money – me. My parents couldn’t and wouldn’t have paid for me to go to college. So, it was go to school. Go to work for as many hours I was allowed (for 85 cents an hours). And, go home and study to get good grades. I ranked 13th in a class of 333, and received only one scholarship from Western for tuition but not fees.
My father always said that there was no way I could go to college because my name was Bundy. Figure that out. I couldn’t. But, I’m guessing that I thought, I’ll show you that I can. I think that when he and mom took me to Gunnison with this huge trunk they had purchased for me (and, that I still have), he understood that, at least one of his daughters could and would go to college. And, succeed. Being a college graduate was not a prestigious thing for him. He knew we would need to work and expected us to be blue-collar workers in an office or at the ordinance depot east of town. He did not live long enough to see me graduate, though. I was the only sister to graduate from a college. My other sisters were successful in their jobs. One of us chose to be a stay-at-home mom, raising two boys – Great Boys, by the way. Before her boys graduated from high school, going on to college, she worked as a professional seamstress, and other jobs. Today, she is an incredible quilter! I think we all could be called independent and successful – just what our father wanted for us.
The city council and administrators were getting the idea that the city thinking had to change. It was getting better by the time I left for college. And, we had a community college and a state college (that became the Southern Colorado State College (and, maybe, university, by now). That did not, however, impress the general public with their thinking. Although, I think they were politically,
“progressive” Democrats.
But, ask me if I’d ever go back there to live. NEVER, unless my family was destitute (and there was a job that I could do)!
Be Safe and Be Well
The Cranky Crone
Thoughtful comments are appreciated.