When All You Can See (Are Cowboy Boots)

My Dad, Leamon Harold Riggs, had a standing rule. "You get into trouble at school, you get into trouble at home." In my day, this was probably the norm for most of the kids in my class. This was the impetus for myself and my schoolmates, that kept us out of more trouble than we could have gotten into. However, On a certain bright, sunny, warm spring afternoon.......

At Junction Hill C-12 School, we had recess. Morning, Noon and Afternoon. A full thirty minutes or so of wild, sometimes reckless, basically unsupervised, Pandemonium! From what I hear, recess nowadays is short, sanitary and highly supervised. I pity today's children...

On this particular afternoon, Roger Underwood and I were playing in the civilized part of the playground near the school. We were in third grade and they had relocated most of the playground equipment to the west side of the school. They had moved a lot of the old playground stuff like the monkey bars and swings, but they had also installed some new equipment that was pretty neat. There was a big, tall, metal climbing frame with a rope to slide down (or climb up.) A couple of new tether ball poles. A chin-up bar. And they had paved a large area with asphalt and installed basketball goals. The "marble playing" part of the playground was up close to the school, right near the fifth grade class windows. And that's where we were playing on this fateful day.

Since it was spring and a warm day to boot, all the windows were open in the classrooms. While we were playing near the fifth grade window, we happened to notice some of our fifth grade friends standing at the back of the class, near the open windows. So... Being the friendly persons that we were, we walked over and struck up a conversation with them through the open window. Somehow it never registered that there was a reason we were talking through the window. While WE were out to recess, THEY were still (supposed to be) studying. We carried on our conversation for a few minutes and then....

All of a sudden I felt a big, rough, hard, hand grab the back of my neck and shove my head forward, where I was looking directly down at my feet! Now... I happen to know that Roger was in the same predicament, because our heads banged together as they were shoved forward. We were both in an iron grip, looking at our feet... And right in the gap between our pairs of feet... A pair of big, scuffed up, pointy toed, Cowboy Boots!!

When all I could see was the cowboy boots, I knew we were in deep trouble.

Our principal that year was rugged and rawboned cowboy, who hailed from Texas, with the moniker of Horace T. McGuffin. Mr. McGuffin had a mustache, always wore a cowboy hat, round wire-rimmed glasses,... And Cowboy Boots... He brooked no nonsense and put the fear of God into all of the would-be tough guys in the upper grades. Oh... One more thing. He and my Dad were very good friends.

"What do you boys think you're doing?!? Can't you TELL that we're having CLASS?!?!" While I was busy trying to keep from wetting my britches, Mr. McGuffin gave us the final word. "Git inside to your class, recess is over for you!"

When the grip on our necks was released; Roger and I skedaddled inside, went to our seats, and were both in tears while we waited for the executioner.

When recess was over and everyone came back in, our teacher, Mrs. Nondes Good, addressed the class. "I heard there were a couple of boys that got into trouble at recess. I hope you've learned your lesson and won't be doing that aaany more." Well... It seems I had a stay of execution at school but I still had to face the music at home. (remember Dad's standing rule?)

When school let out, I trudged home. We lived around the corner on the dirt road so it wasn't that far to the place of reckoning. But my Dad wasn't home yet and judgment was stayed, so I did what any sensible person would do... I went to bed and covered my head!

In my young boy's mind, I figured that as soon as Mr. McGuffin got to his office, he had called my Dad and told him the whole story. Looking back, I know he probably forgot about it before he got back inside the school. But Boy I Sure Didn't Forget!!

Mom came into my bedroom and finally wrangled the whole story out of me. And bless my dear old Mothers heart; she assured me that she would talk to Dad and fix it with him. When Dad got home from work, they talked it over and then Dad came to my bedroom. I don't remember all he said but in a nutshell, he told me he thought I had been punished enough and I needed to get up and get ready for supper. And that's all there was to it.

Even as I write this, I get tears in my eyes thinking about my old Dad. He was stern but he was also compassionate and fair. From that day forward, he never brought this incident up again. But believe you me, I never forgot THAT day... The day... When All I Could See Was Cowboy Boots!

The only picture I could find of Mr. Horace Talley McGuffin (from findagrave.com)