One day and I do not remember so clearly all of the details my brothers and I found out we were moving to Laurens and getting a new home. I guess the first thing I remember is visiting the construction site. Around the time I was twelve years old my dad got a job working at the SC highway department as a mower driver. This was a huge pay increase for him from the cotton mill in Ware Shoals where he had worked for 25 years. My mom and dad had at some time applied for a government loan to build a new home. They were approved and purchased some land in Laurens for the home. We had to wait for them to build the home. I enjoyed going there and watching as it grew. I had already claimed my own room long before it was finished. Mom even let us pick the colors for the rooms. I chose yellow and got quiet a few comments from my mom about it being gold. We were all excited. My dad had sold our old home to the church on the hill. They wanted it so they could clear off our land for a better view of the church. It never occurred to me that someday I might miss that old falling down shack.

Moving day came and went and we were finally in the big city of Laurens. We had new neighbors. There were huge forests to explore also. My dad set up his animal pens and dog leashes just at the edge of the woods. Everything in the yard was still mud. The grass was just starting to break through the surface in some places.

The clearest memories I have of the early periods of the move is getting into a new school. I still have a picture of the day we went to the school for the first time. It was inside the city of laurens. We had to go down this huge hill and back up again. The road meandered through what looked like the pictures you see on TV of the Bronx are some other dangerous neighborhood. Finally the road opens out into an open area, half reserved for the county landfill and the rest was for the school and a small playing field.

My mom took us in and we met the staff. They were not at all friendly folk like the ones at our old school. Then there was Mr Mills. A huge black man with a grim looking face that looked as if it smiled it would break apart. My mom got us enrolled and agreed that we would have to go back one grade due to their supposedly higher standards.

First day of school came and my mom took us their in the car. My brother Tim was going to a different school because he was too young to go to the same one as me. Dale was not yet old enough for school, he wa sonly four at the time. It was so confusing. The school was not so big but was full of students. It was not at all quiet like the one in Wareshoals. I finally got to my class room. The class went well, not that I learned much. My mind was still taking in all of the new surroundings. After the first hour we had to change classes. A really loud bell rang and everyone jumped up from their chairs and ran out the door. In the hall it was horrible. The hall that was so empty before classes began was now almost an impassable rush. Students going to the classroom we left while others were going here and there. The entire school did a shift of classrooms all at the same time.

The mornings would all pass about the same. It was not many days later that I was introduced to the school bullies. I remember Casey and Lonzo, as they were the ones that would always take what little lunch money my mom had to to spare for me each day. I guess that is why I can not remember much about the school cafeteria. They would usually hit me in the arm or stomach when ever they saw me. I was always to afraid to hit them back, not that should have had any reason too.

It was one of those days as usual at school. Fellow students were constantly harassing me. It was time for lunch and several of the school bullies had started to beat on me. They would use me as a punching bag. I learned to run pretty fast and I managed to escape from a group that had decided I was a punching bag. I guess the teachers must have thought it was quiet funny. They never stepped in to help. I started to run and was doing very well. I ran down this short embankment and lost my footing. I was also well learned in the art of falling. The problem this day was that there was some broken glass. I had cut a large gash in my leg when I fell. By this time the first of my would be attackers had reached me. But as he approached me and saw the huge gash through my kneecap he panicked. He started yelling for help. He felt that he was completely responsible. When the teacher arrived he was in tears. He was actually crying that he did not mean to hurt me. I did not feel any pain and was not even the least bit scared. But even the teacher was scared when she saw the huge gash in my kneecap. I could have walked but four are five people picked me up and carried me to the school nurse. They called my mom to carry me to the hospital. I could not believe how the bully had turned into a big crybaby because I had gotten hurt. This was really a good day for me. I got a lot of attention and it never even hurt much.

My mom carried me to the emergency room. A nice man came into the room where the put us. He said he needed to clean the cut and that it might hurt some, but it didn't. A little while later a doctor cam. He gave me shots of anesthetics to prevent any pain when he stitched the skin back together. It was really interesting. I watched as he took a needle and thread like you use for sewing and started stitching the skin back together. I could not feel anything now around the area of the wound.

My few days of vacation did not change anything though when I had to go back to school. First day back several students wanted to practice their boxing on me and had chased me about the football field. One of the boys was in his teens and and should have been in the senior class. He was very fast and I could not out run him. I ran into the gymnasium and hid behind the bleachers. Somehow he cornered me there. It was then that he pulled out a really big knife from his pocket and threatened to cut my throat. I was terrified and prayed silently to God that he would get me out of this situation. I was relieved when several other students and the teacher came in. He put away the knife. Before getting out he silently threatened me, he said that if I told anyone he would surely kill me. I guess I was stupid or something but I did go tell the principal. I told him the entire story in the midst of tears. He must have kept it confidential in a way that no one found out I was a tattle-tale. He did tell me that I needed to stand up and fight if I wanted quit getting picked on.

I guess that is the problem with the world today. Parents and teachers have one answer to everything. We must learn to defend ourselves, even if it means hurting someone else. No one really teaches that we should be kind and love each other. There are those like me that just do not have it in them to listen to these teachings and have to suffer our way through those that do what their teachers of life tell them is right and wrong.