My Dad joined the Navy as a teenager in the 1940’s and rode an aircraft carrier through the war.  In 1947 he transferred into the newly created U.S.A.F.  Three years later I came along.

I was born in Memphis in April 1950 to a Mississippi mother and Brooklyn NY father, but moved when I was still a baby.  Memphis was a beautiful city (some of my family still lives across the border in MS.)  It wasn’t the crime ridden bankrupt city it later became.  But now it’s like all our big cities today.

In those days, a car jack was that metal thing you had in your car in case you had a flat tire.  And the hood was that piece of sheet metal that covered your car engine.

In 1957 we got transferred to England for three years after bouncing around Air Force bases around the South.

The first year we were in London, and I ended up in English public school, which was a shock to my system.  Second grade!  It was super disciplined.  They ran their schools like a Navy Seals boot camp.

Every morning before class we were marched to the auditorium in silence where the headmaster would read his message of the day and lead a prayer. Then we would sing a Church of England hymn and be marched to class.

We wore the standard schoolboy uniform (think Angus Young in AC/DC): gray shorts, tall socks, school tie, dark blazer with school logo on the pocket. You did not deviate or risk a caning.

When my parents enrolled me they just dropped me off the first day and disappeared.  In those days, we didn’t have helicopter parents; we had “82nd Airborne” parents. They’d boot you out the door (hopefully your chute opened) and fly away.

Although they had surely been given a list of things that were needed to be done or procured, they probably didn’t think any of it was urgent.  American parents of that time didn’t dwell on the daily lives of their offspring.

As you were approaching 18, they would check up to make sure you were still there and alive.

Over in America, the big cultural thing for kids was the T.V. show “Davy Crockett.”  It was huge!  Every kid wanted to be Fess Parker (the actor).  It permeated the lives of any family who had a television set at every level of society.

So Mom and Dad thought they were doing me a great favor dressing me for my first day in the whole nine yards of Crockett Wear: coonskin hat, fringed frontier coat and shirt… even moccasins covering the feet.

Unfortunately, this was NOT America.  The 7-year-old English brats in their little uniforms had never heard of Davy and were merciless.  It was horrible.

When I got home after a torturous and long day, I refused to go back until I got my English clothes.

At the end of the day, the master (all the teachers were men) would assign us a chapter to read from our text books.  The next morning he would randomly pick students to answer questions about our homework.  Failing to give a correct answer meant a cane across your knuckles, and it hurt!

The thin reed cane was like a badge of honor for the teacher. They carried it all day and wielded it like a battle sword.

After maybe a year or more, my dad was transferred to a base out in the countryside.  Husbands Bosworth is a small crossroads village in South Leicestershire.  We lived on the air base briefly, but moved into the village where we lived in an old manor house. It had been converted to a hotel called Hillsome House.

It was a great time.  There were old traditional fox hunts in the fields behind the hotel with riders wearing the red coats and black hats and a pack of hounds.

We played with the English kids and the other kids at the hotel, although they thought we were more than weird.

Two little old “spinster” ladies owned the place and lived there.  They treated us like little kings, and they loved us.

The huge kitchen was stocked with supplies that an army regiment would envy.

Clara the cook (right out of a 60’s sitcom) would pull dozens of boxes of cereal off the kitchen shelves and let us dig for the toys they used to have in all cereal in those days.  Then she would carefully re-seal them so the bosses wouldn’t know.

It was one of the best periods in my life.

Finally it was time to head home to the United States.  And after a four year stint in North Florida, my dad was called back to the U.S., permanently assigned to the B-52 base at Columbus AFB, which was only an hour or so drive from Eupora.

I was in the 10th grade, went to S.D. Lee High school and graduated three years later.

I was happy.  I loved Mississippi and being back with my large family.

Thom Caraccio ([email protected]) is a retired musician and retired motion picture scenic artist living in West Palm Beach, Florida who hails from Columbus. He graduated from S.D. Lee High in 1968 and still considers Columbus his real hometown.