My junior high band directors encouraged me to improve and I decided to try. Arkansas had a number of summer band camps back then on university campuses and I wanted to go to one of them. I decided to attend the camp at the main University of Arkansas campus in Fayetteville because it had a lot of good teachers and
china oil painting I wanted to spend a couple of weeks on the campus where I assumed I’d go to college one day. I went there every summer for seven years* until the summer after high school graduation. It proved to be one of the most important experiences in my growing up. First* I played and played. And I got better. Some days I would play for twelve hours until my lips were so sore I could hardly move them. I also listened to and learned from older* better musicians.Band camp also proved an ideal
handmade oil paintings place for me to develop political and leadership skills. The whole time I was growing up* it was the only place being a “band boy” instead of a football player wasn’t a political liability. It was also the only place being a band boy wasn’t a disadvantage in the adolescent quest for pretty girls. We all had a grand time* from the minute we got up for breakfast at a university dining hall until we went to bed in one of the dorms* all the while feeling very important.I also loved the campus. The university is the oldest land-grant college west of the Mississippi. As a high school junior I wrote a paper on it and as governor I supported an appropriation to restore Old Main* the oldest building
oil painting reproductions on campus. Built in 1871* it is a unique reminder of the Civil War* marked by two towers* with the northern one higher than its southern counterpart.The band also brought me my best friend in junior high* Joe Newman. He was a drummer* and a good one. His mother* Rae* was a teacher in our school* and she and her husband* Dub* always made me feel welcome in their big white wood-frame house on Ouachita Avenue* near where Uncle Roy and Aunt Janet lived. Joe was smart* skeptical* moody* funny* and loyal. I liked to play games or just talk with him. I still do—we’ve stayed close over the years.My main academic interest in junior high was math. I was lucky enough to be among the first group in our town to take algebra in the eighth* not the ninth* grade* which meant I’d have a chance to take geometry* alge-bra II* trigonometry* and calculus by the time I finished high school. I loved math because it
Painting From Photowas problem-solving* which always got my juices flowing. Although I never took a math class in college* I always thought I was good at it until I had to give up helping Chelsea with her homework when she was in ninth grade. Another illusion bites the dust.Mary Matassarin taught me algebra and geometry. Her sister* Verna Dokey* taught history* and Verna’s husband* Vernon* a retired coach* taught eighth-grade science. I liked them all* but even though I was not particularly good
oil painting wholesale at science* it was one of Mr. Dokey’s lessons that stayed with me. Though his wife and her sister were attractive women* Vernon Dokey* to put it charitably* was not a handsome man. He was burly* a bit heavy around the waist* wore thick glasses* and smoked cheap cigars in a cigar holder with a small mouthpiece* which gave his face a peculiar pinched look when he sucked on it. He generally affected a brusque manner* but he had a great smile* a good sense of humor* and a keen understanding of human nature. One day he looked out at us and said* “Kids* years from now you may not remember anything you learned about science in this class* so I’m going to teach you something about human nature you should remember. Every morning when I wake up* I go into my bathroom* splash water on my face* shave* wipe the shaving cream off* then look in the mirror and say* ‘Vernon* you’re beautiful.’ You remember that* kids. Everybody wants to feel like they’re
Everybody wants to feel like they’re
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