Vita Mea Chapter 02
David Richardson
My elementary school years rapidly flew by. Time passed so quickly that I forgot about the quiet moments I spent during my six-grade elementary days eating lunch at the diner that was not far from the Indiana Avenue Elementary School. My lunch consisted of chicken noodle soup, lemon pie, and a large root beer float. The total cost for my standard lunch (soup, a slice of lemon pie, and a root beer float) was a whopping seventy-five cents. I consumed that nutritional mix five days a week for most of the time I spent in the sixth grade. My father would leave seventy-five cents under my pillar each school morning for me to buy lunch. Though I regularly ate lunch at the diner that was close to the elementary school, I occasionally had lunch at the sub shop that was across the street from the Indiana Avenue Elementary School. Wow! Those submarine sandwiches were outstanding! I found another submarine sandwich store, the White House Sub Shop. The Sub Store was close to Atlantic City High School. The White House submarine shop was at a location a few blocks from my old high school. However, to my knowledge, the shop is still functioning and has been at the same location (2301 Artic Avenue) and under the same family ownership/management for nearly a century. Their sandwiches are delicious, and people from other countries come to Atlantic City to consume their world-renowned submarine sandwiches. They use to ship their sandwiches overnight to celebrities in Las Vegas and other US cities. My brother (who lived in New York) would drive 250 miles (round trip) to buy sandwiches for his family. Several years after leaving Atlantic City, I took my wife, Alma, to visit. She was unimpressed with the City and its combination casino-hotels (including their room accommodations). She thought Atlantic City was dilapidated, overrated, and unsightly. So, I thought I would give her a treat and introduced her to the White House Submarine Shop. She tried one of their sandwiches, and she thought it was outstanding. Her perception of Atlantic City partially changed. Now, she believed that the City had promise. She ingested her sandwich with passion and delight. She purchased two more sandwiches to go before we headed for the long drive in the direction of the setting sun. Even though she was disappointed in the City, she said, “I will come again and again for those sandwiches.�
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It was time for me to move on to the seventh grade (Junior High School). I attended Central Junior High School on Ohio Avenue. Eventually, the City demolished Central Junior High School, and I do not remember a great deal about Central High except for its proximal distance to the hospital. Occasionally, I visited the hospital to see my father. I was not eager to visit the hospital because I was unhappy with the smell of ether that satiated the corridors. I had two traumatizing medical experiences at the hospital. The first was when my brother and I were playing on the bed, and I slipped and seriously hurt myself when I fell on the cross railing of the bed. My parents took me to the hospital, and the doctor decided that I needed to be circumcised. I remember the physician putting something like a thick cotton gauze over my nose and slowly pouring ether over the gauze. The physician asked me to count backward, and it was not long before I drifted into a deep sleep. When I woke up, I had a large bandage between my legs. I thought it took forever for healing to occur. That was a traumatizing experience. That experience gave me a sensitivity to the men of Shechem (Genesis 34) where two of the sons of Jacob (Levi and Simeon) deceptively convinced the men of Shechem to be circumcised. The Bible describes the time for circumcising male children after they are eight days old, not when they are older; however, there are biblical stories that delineate the circumcisions of adults and older children. I was many years older than the timeline recommended by Scripture for circumcision when I experienced the pain of circumcision. The second hospital experience involved the removal of a large wart with finger-like extensions growing out of the right top portion of my head. My father wanted to remove the wart using the mystical horse-hair technique. My father and mother had a variety of nontraditional medical procedures that might be familiar to many of the older generation and, perhaps, practiced by some today. Do you recall the family technique for removing a loose tooth? A parent or guardian used the doorknob procedure! The doorknob procedure included tying one end of a sturdy thread around a loose tooth and the other end around a doorknob. The parent or guardian would have someone hold you, and then violently slam the door. The hopeful intent was to extricate the tooth loosely attached to your gum line. This was frequently a success because the tooth was so loose. I had that experience on several occasions growing up in Atlantic City, New Jersey.
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My father eventually gave up on trying to remove the multi-finger-like wart using the horse-hair technique. Just think about the consequences if the horse-hair technique had worked. The roots of the wart were deep under the skin, and just like cut weeds with deep roots, the wart would have regenerated. God was watching over me. My father took me to the hospital, and a physician removed the wart using a local anesthetic. I recall several medical people standing around watching the procedure making comments like, “Wow, there is a lot of blood.� I felt like fainting. The open wound required three to four sutures after the physician removed the deeply rooted wart. The physician placed a hat-like bandage over the scare, and then he released me from the blood-letting experience. I spent the rest of the day in the balcony of a segregated theater located on Atlantic Avenue. A few days later, my elementary school teacher asked me to report to the class about my minor surgical experience. I proudly wore the hat-like bandage from my surgical experience for a couple of weeks. It represented my pseudo-brave battle with an ugly warrior. I still carry a small scare on my now bald head where the finger-like wart proudly waved its ugly fingers. I had a Caucasian friend, Melvin, in Junior High. He was a Jewish kid who lived in an upscale community on the west side of Atlantic City. We would frequently walk home together. I enjoyed visiting his home because he had an admirable electric train set, and I liked watching him operate it. For some inexplicable reason, our friendship dwindled after we entered high school. In 2017, well into my septuagenarian years, I built a more elaborate train set than the one Melvin's parents purchased for him. My O gauge train layout is the envy of any small scale amateur locomotive engineer. September 1957 was my freshman year at Atlantic City High School. At that time, Atlantic City High School was the only public high school in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Lawrence and Gertrude wanted me to become a medical missionary, but I wanted to pursue a career in one of the physical sciences.
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During my developmental years, my mother and father purchased several chemistry sets for me. As a young aspiring scientist, I conducted amateur experiments carefully following the directions in the manuals of the laboratory sets my parents purchased. I was anxious to take high school chemistry, but I had to wait because chemistry was a junior or senior science course. I made a critical curriculum faux pas in high school. I failed to take physics in my junior year because the counselor misguided me into taking four years of foreign languages – two years of Spanish and two years of Latin. I signed up for a college preparatory curriculum during my freshman year in high school; however, the counselor wanted to discourage me from pursuing a college preparatory pathway. She wanted me to follow a vocational track. I think that was the counselor’s typical approach with black students. However, I insisted on taking a college preparatory track. I enrolled in five courses- algebra I, history of world civilization, English I, physical education, and General Science. English was my weakest subject. The counselor enrolled me in a lower-level English course that turned out to be boring. I probably needed it because the segregated elementary system in Atlantic City in the late forties and early fifties provided little syntactic preparation. That was a deceptively critical part of the separate but equal constitutional law invented not to violate the fourteenth amendment. My vocabulary and writing skills were weak. The Indiana Avenue Elementary School did not teach English syntax properly; consequently, many minority students lacked the appropriate English tools when they enrolled in junior high school and high school. I was one of the students who lacked sufficient knowledge to excel in high school English. I was disappointed in my low-level English class because other English classes were reading the Odyssey and the Iliad, and I was reading something less meaningful and exciting. So, my assessment of freshman English was not favorable. My favorite freshman course was algebra. Math at the School was in the same category as English; however, I had an affinity for mathematics; therefore, I did not have a problem grasping the subject and expanding my basic understanding of mathematics.
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I loved my history course, and I thought the teacher was incredible. I liked her teaching methodologies and the way she created a welcoming teaching and learning environment in her classroom. It was a joy to sit in her class and listen to her colorful and organized lectures on ancient history. She held my undivided attention on subjects from the early civilization of man in the Mesopotamian valley to the extraordinary events that led to World War II and its aftermath. She truly inspired me in those early days of my high school education. She gave me a vision of college life. Often teachers are not aware of the tremendous impact they have on the lives of their students. That impact can be favorable or unfavorable. The river of time flows so rapidly. Six decades passed since I set under her tutelage. So, I forgot the name of this extraordinary teacher, but I remember her winning personality and her blonde hair. I will forever remember that she sponsored a field trip for her students to Montclair State Teachers College in Montclair, New Jersey. We visited a history class where the teacher gave a lecture on the Treaty of Versailles. He was confident in his delivery, and he engaged with students. I fixated on his presentation, and I thought that someday, I would like to be a college professor like him. He was my first introduction to a college instructor. I will never forget the image of that charismatic professor. He wore a herringbone tweed jacket with leather elbow patches, and he had complete command of his classroom. I appreciated our teacher’s decision to give us an introduction into the day in the life of a college professor and a day in the life of college students. At that moment, I decided that nothing would prevent me from obtaining a college education. Also, I promised myself that I would be a college teacher. Exceptional teachers truly have major influences on the lives of their students, and, unfortunately, extraordinary teachers (at all levels) are overworked and underpaid! I had a very colorful General Science teacher, Mr. Bishop. He demonstrably exhibited exceptional knowledge and incredible enthusiasm.. I learned a great deal from him, and he inspired me to continue my pursuit of the sciences. I was happy with my first permanent freshman grades. The grading system of the High School was “E” for excellent; “G” for good; “M” for medium; “L” for low; and “F” for failure. My grades in all my subjects were
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“E’s” and “G’s”. I learned years later that the grading system at Atlantic City High School was archaic. Also, I discovered that the school was using a numerical percentage to grade students, but the students only saw letter grades. For example, if a student received a “G” that “G” could represent any percentage from 78% to 87%; however, the students never saw the exact percentages. I did not realize that grading methodology until after I graduated from high school. In retrospect, four years of high school passed rapidly. But for me, the years passed slowly. The rapid flow of the river of time captured my spirit and enhanced my intellectual and spiritual growth. In my sophomore year, I took English II, geometry, biology, Spanish I, physical education, and US History. The theoretical part of biology was fun, but I distasted dissecting worms and frogs. Also, I did not like the nauseating smell of formaldehyde. I preferred working with the inanimate rather than the animate. I enjoyed sophomore English more than freshman English. I had a delightful English II teacher, and she had a great sense of humor. Her personal animation brought Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar from the pages of the textbook into the visual accruements of students when she shouted "Et tu, Brute". Also, she had multiple parodies about Silas Marner, the protagonist in George Eliot’s book by the same name. US History was not that great! Students did not like the disagreeable and grumpy teacher. So, the class decided to create what they thought was a full-proof cheating schema. She had a system where students would exchange and grade papers. So, students devised a carefully orchestrated formula to miss-grade their colleague's papers. Such a deception harmed me spiritually, and I am ashamed that I agreed to participate in the deception. I am not sure how the teacher discovered the treachery, but when she did, she gave each student an "F" for his/her mid-term grade. The "F" was prominently displayed on the grade card in red ink. A shrewd female student leader brought a large bouquet of beautiful flowers and a card and presented them to the teacher on behalf of the class. She made the presentation when the teacher was about to write the final grades in red ink. The emotionally charged teacher closed the red ink well. Then, she opened the blue ink well and gave all the students passing grades. I would not be surprised if that cunning female student became a
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politician.. Her actions demonstrated the ease people may influence others. I think I received an "M" in the course. I did well in my other classes, and I received an excellent grade in geometry. I did not particularly like Spanish either, because I wanted to take Latin instead. During my third year of high school, I took algebra II, Spanish II, Latin I, solid geometry, physical education, and English III. I had a great deal of fun doing my junior year. I met Steve, a dynamic, charismatic, and humorous kid. Steve and I were Latin study buddies. Our Latin teacher, Mr. Plesha (short in physical stature but an intellectual giant) had an enormous passion for Latin. I loved Latin, and I excelled in his class. Steve, who wanted to pursue English as a career, noticed how much I enjoyed the dead language, and that my translation from Latin to English and vice versa was decent. We worked closely throughout our Junior and Senior years. Steve’s mother and father were delightful people. I loved his mother’s sense of humor, and she gave wonderful counsel and advice that helped me during my pre-college years. I had an amazing academic experience during my fourth year of high school. I took algebra III, solid geometry, Chemistry, English IV, Latin II, physical education, and after school Calculus. So, during my senior year, I took three mathematics courses. My high school education more than adequately prepared me for college. During my senior year, I finally got the opportunity to take chemistry. The chemistry course was joyful! I particularly enjoyed the mathematics associated with solving chemistry problems. I had a dynamic and wonderful chemistry teacher. He gave me my first real understanding of the subject. Some parents are capable of providing extraordinary learning environments for their children. Those children have a variety of academic stimuli that help cultivate their intellectual abilities. Even though my parents were supportive, they did not have the time, resources, or inclination to create learning stimuli in our home. Consequently, I self-generated my learning stimuli. Over time, I emerged as a studious and hard-working student. I indicated previously that the maturation of children must include the inextricable integration of intellectual, social, physical, and spiritual processes. The integration of these factions provides developmental pathways for a mature adult.
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High School provided the intellectual and physical activities for my development, and my church and a multitude of other entities provided the social stimuli for my growth. Also, my church provided the spiritual growth I needed to develop an ever-lasting relationship with God. Following is my formula for human growth and development: G = ciI + csa Ssa + csg Ssg + cpP where G = growth and development I = intellectual stimulation and Where I can take on a value from 1 to 100 Ssa = social activities Where Ssa can take on a value from 1 to 100 Ssg = spiritual guidance Where Ssg can take on a value from 1 to 100 P = physical development and re-creation Where P can take on a value from 1 to 100 c1 + csa + csg + cp = 1.0 The maximum value of G is 100 where 100 represents a perfectly developed adult. Parents and professionals determine the value of c, and a value of 0 would mean absolutely no growth. A value of zero would be problematic for the child and the parents. Something very special happened to me during the last two years of high school. I had an encounter of the nth kind! That encounter had a major impact on Ssa, my social development. That encounter radically changed my life had a significantly impacted on my “G” score. I met and had a young love encounter with an extraordinary girl, Janet, who had moved from Birmingham, Alabama to Atlantic City, New Jersey. Janet stayed with her nana. She was a petite and beautiful girl with a loving personality. My best friend, Joe, discovered her first, but things did not work out for them. She asked me to tutor her geometry, but I found myself overwhelmingly attracted to her. She was truly the first love of my life. I do not think she has any idea how much her personality influenced me and her effect on “Ssa” of my growth development. She gave me warmth. She was a bright star that ignited an inexhaustible flame in my heart. I spent many hours with her doing my junior and senior years in high school. I truly wanted to be with her for a lifetime. Also, I wanted a college education, and this created a small dichotomy between the love of my young life and the
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future I sought as a college-educated person. I had to make a choice, and I often wondered if I made the correct choice. I wanted to stay in Atlantic City, New Jersey with Janet, but I wanted to go to a historically black college that was located almost 900 miles from the City. I chose the latter, and things did not work out for us. We were inseparable sweethearts during my senior year in high school. I will always have fond memories of her because she holds a very special place in my heart. She was my first angel. When I went to college in Alabama, she found someone else, and they got married. They eventually adopted a little boy, and our paths did not cross again for many years.
Back row: Me, Gertrude Hudnall Some church members (Mrs. Chadwick and Mr. and Mrs. Edwards) Front row: Janet circa 1961
I realized that my family had economic constraints; nevertheless, unlike me, my father was fiscally conservative. He had money in the bank, but he wore tattered underwear and socks. I often thought that he should use his money to buy better underwear and socks. Years later, I discovered his conscientious frugality. He saved more than $20,000.00 before his passing; however, my half-sister, Shirley, used almost 50% of those dollars before I discovered that the money was rapidly disappearing. My father had a son, Bill, who had cognitive challenges, and his brother, Willis, took great care of him before and after my father’s demise. I
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thought the remaining $10,000 could help Willis address any emergencies that might arise with Bill; therefore, I encouraged Willis to transfer the remaining dollars to his account in Inglewood, New Jersey. I did not have the financial resources to pay for my college education. My father said that he would be happy to contribute to my college fund. I submitted two college applications - Atlantic Union College and Oakwood College with faith that there would be a mechanism to pay my fees. Also, I wanted to contribute to my college expenses. So, I searched for my first real job. The Hudnalls convinced a friend and colleague, Mr. Richard Loderstedt Sr., from the Absecon Church to hire an inexperienced person like me to work for his business, the C D Bailey’s Flower Farm (a sizable flower farm) in Absecon, New Jersey. The farm was miles from the main road. To arrive at the isolated farm, I took a bus from Atlantic City to a dusty crossroad in Absecon off the main highway. I waited for a car (driven by a Bailey employee and his son) to take me to the flower farm located a few miles at the end of the dusty road. Timing for arriving at the pick-up point was crucial. Therefore, I dared not to miss the early morning bus from Atlantic City. I took a bus to the drop-off location where the farmworker could pick me up and drive me the remaining distance to the flower farm. Also, the farmer had to pick up another young man who rode with us to the farm. The work was back braking! We arrived at 8 am, and we worked until 5 pm. We had one hour for lunch and a fifteen-minute break in the morning and a fifteen-minute break in the afternoon. The foreman, Richard Loderstedt, was a conscientious and dedicated worker. He made sure that all the employees had excellent work ethics and that there were no slackers. The most difficult job on the farm was burning dirt. Burning dirt minimized the growth of weeds. The burnt dirt was the primary potting soil for plants. Burning dirt was physically challenging because the flaming chamber had to run uninterrupted due to the high cost of fuel. The person responsible for shoveling the dirt into the flaming chamber had to do it continuously (without breaks) until the flame expired. Once an employee ignited the Burner, he processed as much dirt as possible to maximize fuel consumption and minimize cost. Less strenuous work included planting and caring for the flowers, but the summer heat made the work challenging. We watered the hydrangea plants occasionally using an intricate process. This included mixing water with a water-soluble blue fertilizer in a large barrel. Employees sprayed the hydrangea plants with a homogeneous mixture of blue fertilizer and water. A hose connected to an electric pump delivered the homogeneous mixture onto the waiting hydrangea plants. One summer morning sometime during the summer of 1960, I had an experience where I received a memorable electrical shock. I was fertilizing C D Bailey's hydrangea
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plants, and an exposed section of the electric cord serendipitously slid into my receptive hand while standing in a small puddle of water. The resulting electrocution was like participating in a slow-motion movie. I slowly and perceptively fell to the ground. Once I reached the ground, the exposed cord miraculously leaped from my hand. How did that happen? God sent His angel to have charge over me, and the angel knocked the cord from my hand. The incident was one of God’s many direct interventions in my life. It was a demonstration of His glorious appearance. If He had not intervened, I am sure that I would have died. On three occasions God directly intervened in my life. He saved my life twice, and I audibly heard His voice during a critical part of my life where I had to make an important decision. Have you ever thought you heard the voice of God? I am not referring to His Word. I am not referring to what you thought you heard in your head. I am talking about actually hearing His voice. Perhaps, in a manner that Moses heard His voice on Mount Sinai. Well, I had that experience. I heard the voice of God. The experience with watering the hydrangea plants followed by the unfortunate electrocution is one instance in which God intervened on my behalf. The other occurred when the neighborhood kids ignorantly participated in a dangerous activity. We had the unfortunate habit of diving off the Beach Thorofare Bridge, one of the bridges connecting the island to the mainland. Well, one afternoon, three of the neighborhood kids decided to dive off the Bridge. When my turn to dive came, for some inexplicable reason, I hesitated. I had this overwhelming urge that I shouldn’t dive. Then, I heard a voice say, "Stop!" All of a sudden, a large boat passed under the bridge. If I had completed my dive at that instant, I would have been seriously injured or even killed. God sent my Guardian Angel to protect and watch over me. He had a plan for my life that didn’t include a scenario where I would have expired as a teenager doing some silly diving activity. I will relate the incident of actually hearing God’s voice in Chapter 4 (Higher Still). The boss, C D Bailey, personally appeared every Friday to distribute our weekly wages (in cash tucked away in a small brown envelope). He was a large Caucasian man who appeared to fill the room when he walked in with his stern no-nonsense personality. I think everyone was afraid of him except Richard Loderstedt. Richard was of smaller stature. He had an artificial foot because he lost his foot during an unfortunate incident when he was a railroad engineer. During the summers of 1960 and 1961, I worked extremely hard for $1.00 per hour/$8.00 per day/ $48.00 per week. I worked six days a week (Sunday through Friday). Also, I worked through the summer months. We
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received cash rather than checks. I wonder if Mr. Bailey took at medical, federal taxes, state taxes, or anything. As I reflect on his behavior, it looks like we were like migrant workers. I gave the entire contents of my pay envelope to my father because I wanted to save as much money as possible for my college education. The other young man who worked with me appeared to have lots of jealousies. On one occasion, he argued with me over a forgettable religious issue. He wanted to know why I thought my religion was superior to his religion when his religion existed for nineteen centuries and my religion existed for only a little more than one hundred years. I couldn’t understand his anger, because I never gave him indications that I believed my church was superior to his church. That was his perception since Mr. Loderstedt was a member of my church. The young rival worked on Saturdays, and I worked on Sundays; therefore, we worked five days per week together. On one particular Friday, as we were boarding the return bus to Atlantic City, he showed me a pink slip that was in his pay envelope. I never saw him again. I exhibited an unusual repetitive behavior pattern that I could not shake for years. My parents and others thought that this habit was cute for a baby, and they thought that this behavior was an act of self-soothing. I conscientiously rocked myself to sleep. This was an idiosyncrasy that I exhibited every night until my last day living in the house at 364 North South Carolina Avenue. Rocking myself to sleep is not something that I would want to do as a college student. One day my mother said to me, “How are you going to go to college, and rock yourself to sleep in the presence of your roommate?” I realized that I would have to make a concerted effort to grow up and stop rocking myself to sleep. Rocking was one of the most difficult habits I had to break before entering college I made a conscientious effort to keep still in the bed, and I practiced stillness before sleep for months before our trip to Huntsville. Finally, I received the victory, and I have not rocked myself to sleep since I left Atlantic City, New Jersey many decades ago. Perhaps I will rock again before I fly away…
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