Silly Old Bear

I grew up in the small South Texas town of Alice, the “Hub City of Texas”. In the Fall of 1976, I was attending William Adams Junior High School as a 9th grader. One of my favorite classes was Mr. Howell’s Speech class. I remember Mr. Howell as being somewhat eccentric. He envisioned his Speech class as something of an adventure in self-discovery for his students.

 

One of our assignments was to keep an “Everything Log”, where we would write down our “feelings, emotions, thoughts, dreams, ideas, etc.” on a daily basis. I ran back across that Everything Log recently, and started reading it. What follows is my entry for October 12, 1976. I was fourteen years old when I wrote this.

 

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Tuesday, October 12, 1976

Yesterday began one of the scariest weeks of my life. Some English students from the Junior High went to Mathis Lake to visit a poet that lives on the lake. I was one of the students that made the trip. We had a real good time. When we got back (about 6:30 PM), I was dropped off at my house. I felt pretty good. I walked inside and went to my room to put down my books. Then my mother and two younger brothers walked into the room. I knew right then that something was wrong, so I asked, “What’s wrong?” My youngest brother, about 6 years old, said, “Something bad happened.” Then my mother explained it all to me. It went something like this:

“Uncle Garland was found dead in his apartment today,” my mother explained. (Uncle Garland was my father’s only brother. He lived in Baytown, a suburb of Houston, Texas.)

“What happened?” I asked.

She explained further, “Uncle Garland didn’t show up for work this morning, and he’s just not the kind of person who is late or absent from work without calling to let them know why. So when he didn’t show up for work this morning, and didn’t call, they sent the police to his apartment to check on him. When they got there, they found him dead. His wallet and car were missing, so it was probably murder and robbery.”

I was stunned. I just stood there for a minute or two with my mouth open.

I had a typewriting class to go to, so my mother took me. I couldn’t concentrate on my typing, and my hands were shaking a little bit.

During our break, I called home for someone to come get me. When I got home, the preacher, with his wife and boy, and my grandfather were there. I went to my room. My mother came in and asked me if I was all right. I just started crying. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The pressure had been building up inside me, and I had to let it out. For about 10 or 15 minutes straight, I lay facedown on my bed, crying like a baby. I must admit, though, it felt good letting out the pressure.

After I had let it all out, I washed my face and ate some supper. A little later, one of the elders from the church, and his wife, came over.

After everyone had left, two of the teachers from the High School came over (my father teaches at the High School and knows most of the teachers there.). It’s really comforting to know that there is always someone there to lean on at times like this.

My mother called my brother (who is at college) to tell him. He was very upset when he heard.

This morning, my parents and two other brothers left for Atlanta, Texas (about 1,000 miles from here) where the burial was to be held. My older brother and I will be staying here by ourselves for the next few days.

Today at school I found out that I have some valuable friends. I could only bring myself to talk about it twice, when two different people kept asking me what was wrong. Once I almost broke down into tears while explaining it; the other time I did. But these people really listened and were very sympathetic.

I am very lonesome, sad, confused, mixed-up, about this whole thing. My emotions keep coming to the outside and I just can’t hold them in. I am very lonesome for my parents, for friends, for someone to talk to. I am sad because I have lost a loved one, yet I am confused, too. My uncle didn’t die naturally. He was murdered. Why do people kill just to get money? Why do people kill for anything? I know my uncle is dead, yet I don’t understand death. I can’t picture MY uncle dead; murdered. It’s one of those things you think will never happen to you or someone you love, and then … CRASH; it happens. And everything seems to fall apart.

Well, I have to get to bed now. I just had to get my feelings out, that’s why I wrote this, but now I have to get to sleep so I can get up and go to school tomorrow.

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