Fifty Years Ago This Week in West Rome - 3/23/1970 to 3/29/1970

Jesse Laseter was promoted from assistant susperintendent to the position of superintendent of schools this week in 1970. Laseter, who came to Rome in 1968, was the father of West Rome students Jody Laseter (then a sophomore) and Julie, a student at West End Elementary.

The dispute between Ken Stanton Music, The Music Room, and the Rome Board of Education was supposed to advance to the state-ordered hearing stage in response to Ken Stanton Music's appeal of a decision by the board of education to allow only the Music Room to conduct band recruitment programs in city schools. The board of education was scheduled to act as judges in the hearing, which seemed like a strange ruling since it meant that one of the defendants was judging the outcome of the trial, but the State Board of Education said that if Stanton was unhappy with the new hearing, he could again appeal and the next hearing would be adjudicated by the State Board itself. However, the hearing didn't actually take place; Rome School Board chairman W.B. Primm told attendees at the meeting that a problem with a court reporter's schedule required the change--but of course, this "problem" wasn't mentioned until an hour after the meeting was supposed to have started. The Board said the meeting would take place a week later, provided a court reporter could be present. Needless to say, representative for Ken Stanton Music were unhappy, feeling that the delay was little more than a stalling tactic.

West Rome's Martin Rollinson won the Rome Breakfast Optimist Club's annual Oratorical Contest on Monday night, March 23rd, at the Rome Boy's Club (Rollinson's second wind in a row). The contestants spoke on "Youth-Full Partners in a Better Tomorrow," and they were required to speak for a minimum of four minutes and a maximum of five minutes without any notes or aids. They were judged on delivery, speech content, and overall effectiveness. Rollinson advanced to the zone competition, which was scheduled for April in Cedartown.

West Rome's annual Green and White football game took place on Thursday, March 26th, and the White team won 14-13, thanks to a fourth-quarter touchdown by Allen Carrington and a successful point after kick by Randy Hatch.

Piggly Wiggly had hen turkeys for 39¢ a pound, Van Camp's chili for 29¢ a can, and five pounds of grapefruit for 59¢. Kroger had ground beef for 53¢ a pound, sweet potatoes for 12¢ a pound, and Sealtest ice cream for 55¢ a half-gallon. Big Apple had rib roast for 89¢ a pound, apples for 16¢ a pound, and a five-pound bag of frozen french fries for 69¢. A&P had sirloin steak for $1.19 a pound, Hormel Vienna sausages for a dime a can, and carrots for a dime a bag. Couch's had chicken breast for 59¢ a pound, Nabisco vanilla wafers for 39¢ a box, and Van Camp's pork & beans for 15¢ a can.

The cinematic week began with The Secret of Santa Vittoria (starring Anthony Quinn) at the DeSoto Theatre, Fanny Hill (an X-rated Danish film) at the First Avenue, They Shoot Horses, Don't They? (starring Jane Fonda) at the Village, and Those Were the Happy Times (starring Julie Andrews) at the West Rome Drive-In.  The weekend switch out brought The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes (starring Kurt Russell) to the DeSoto and The Undefeated (starring John Wayne and Rock Hudson) to the West Rome Drive-In, whole They Shoot Horses, Don't They? and Fanny Hill hung around at the First Avenue and the Village, respectively.

Jimi Hendrix said farewell to the Experience and hello the the Band of Gypsys this week in 1970. Band of Gypsys, the one-and-only album by Hendrix, Billy Cox, and Buddy Miles, was also the last Hendrix album release prior to his death. This was also release week for Leon Russell's eponymous first album and Ringo Starr's Sentimental Journey, a strange album of cover versions of old standards that was also the first full studio album by any solo Beatle. The album featured Starr singing and assortment of his mother's favorite old songs; he even let her and the rest of the family choose the tracks.

Fifty Years Ago This Week in West Rome - 3/16/1970 to 3/22/1970

Rome City Schools submitted a revised integration plan this week in 1970, hoping to get final approval from the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare. While the state and federal governments had mandated that at least 75% of all minority students had to be placed in integrated schools by the 1970-1971, Rome City Schools only had 73% of all minority students in integrated schools. Rome City Schools superintendent Milton S. McDonald pointed out that the reason for the discrepancy was that 27% of the minority students had requested to remain at Main Elementary and Anna K. Davie Schools rather than transfer, and the only way to meet the 75% mandate was to force these students to go to school that were further away from their homes.

Did you know that, prior to 1970, Rome traffic ordinances allowed left turns on red after a full stop so long as no traffic was approaching? Well, that law went away this week in 1970. The new traffic ordinance said that led tturns on red were legal only where traffic controlled devices with turn arrows were installed.

The calendar said that spring was pretty much here, but the thermometer reminded Romans that winter hadn't left yet. The temperature fell to 20° on Monday morning and held in the 30s all day. Monday night brought little bit of snow, but the temperatures remained above freezing Monday night, so there were no travel problems or school cancellations.

Super Discount Stores opened their expanded location in Alto Shopping Center (at 436 Shorter Avenue) this week in 1970.  Specials included ladies blouses for 88¢, 24" x 30" framed pictures for $1.99, and a 4 ounce bottle of Vitalis for 33¢. And with every $5 purchase, customers could be a 12-ounce can of Coca-Cola/Tab/Sprite for a nickel!

Piggly Wiggly had sirloin tip roast for $1.19 a pound, Uncle Tom's Brunswick stew for 59¢ a can, and Bama apple jelly for 29¢ a jar. Kroger had fresh whole fryers for 29¢ a pound, Morton TV dinners for 32¢ each, and watermelon for 49¢ each. Big Apple had center cut pork chops for 79¢ a pound, cream cheese for 29¢ a package, and Libby's fruit cocktail for 38¢ a can. A&P had chicken breast quarters for 39¢ a pound, fresh baked peach pies for 39¢ each, and celery for 19¢ a bunch. Couch's had ground chuck for 79¢ a pound, Maxwell House instant coffee for 29¢ a jar, and Aristocrat ice milk for 39¢ a half-gallon.

The cinematic week began with Downhill Racer (starring Robert Redford) at the DeSoto Theatre, The Sterile Cuckoo (starring Liza Minelli) at the First Avenue, John & Mary (starring Dustin Hoffman & Mia Farrow) at the Village, and Doctor Doolittle (starring Rex Harrison) at the West Rome Drive-In. The weekend switch out brought The Secret of Santa Vittoria (starring Anthony Quinn) to the DeSoto, Fanny Hill (an X-rated Scandinavian film with a cast no one in the US had ever heard of) at the First Avenue, They Shoot Horses, Don't They? (starring Jane Fonda) to the Village, and Those Were the Happy Times (starring Julie Andrews) to the West Rome Drive-In.

Simon & Garfunkel continued their grip on the number one slot this week in 1970 with "Bridge Over Troubled Water." Other top ten hits included "Let It Be" by the Beatles (#2); "Instant Karma (We All Shine On)" by John Lennon (#3); "The Rapper" by the Jaggerz (#4); "Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)" by Edison Lighthouse (#5); "ABC" by the Jackson 5 (#6); "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" by the Hollies (#7), "Spirit in the Sky" by Norman Greenbaum (#8--but did anyone ever turn that single over and listen to the B-side, "Milk Cow"?); "Give Me Just a Little More Time" by the Chairmen of the Board (#9); and "Come and Get It" by Badfinger (#10).  That's three Apple records in the top ten! (And personally, I am grateful that Sly and the Family Stone finally fell out of the top ten, because I got so tired of having to override spellcheck every time I typed out "Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)."

David Bowie married Angela Barnett this week in 1970. Few people remember Angela Bowie, ,but a lot of people remember her as the inspiration for the Rolling Stones song "Angie."

A Life in Four Colors Addendum (subtitle: "Let's Get Physical")

I miss Susan every day in a thousand different ways. But one of the aspects that I miss is the physical intimacy that was a part of our lives together.

I know, some people cringe at the world "intimacy" because they assume (or fear) that I'm going to discuss sexual matters. I am aware that many find that subject uncomfortable to hear about, from someone like me, so let me say right now that I'm not about to engage in a discussion of sexual matters. Intimacy includes sexual intimacy, certainly, and I was lucky enough to have a woman with whom I was totally sexually compatible.That's not what I'm talking about when I mention "physical intimacy," however.

Do you enjoy holding the hand of someone you love? Is there still a little thrill, a little excitement, when your hands touch? Does each little squeeze or brushing of fingertips communicate more than many words can express? That's physical intimacy. For more than fifty years, I held Susan's hand. When we were going somewhere in the car, her hand often rested in one. I would rub my thumb lightly over the back of her hand, feeling her knuckles and the gentle motion of the tendons just beneath the skin. I knew exactly where in the center of her palm I could brush with my fingernail to make her give a gentle half-giggle, as if it almost tickled. I remember her supple fingers from the earliest days of our lives together, and I remember those same fingers as arthritis afflicted the knuckles, causing the joints to swell as they lost some of their mobility. But I loved those hands for fifty years, and sometimes I was so moved by holding her hand that I had to lift it to my lips and kiss it gently. "I love you so much that sometimes it just overwhelms me," I would tell her. She would smile and ocassionally respond with a self-deprecating comment, but I would affectionately and gently chide her for not seeing the same loveliness that I saw every time I looked at her.

After fifty years of love and forty-eight years of marriage, both of us came to know all about one another's bodies (and again, I'm not just talking sexually). I knew exactly where on her neck to squeeze upwards with my thumbs when she was tired or tense; I knew where on each temple to rub when she was stressed. I knew the spot on the lower part of her shoulder blades where she liked for me to massage firmly while we were hugging one another, and I remember the little satisfied sound she would make when I did so. I knew that she liked it when, after I rubbed her neck, my fingers would softly slide down the side of her neck to the little hollow where her collarbones came together. I knew how she liked for me to press against the arch of her foot with a knuckled fist before firmly gripping and massaging each foot. I knew the places that were ticklish, and I knew when to avoid them--and when not to.

As her chronic illness progressed in the final years of her life, I knew the places that hurt even under the lightest touch, and I knew to avoid them without her ever having to tell me. I learned how to put my arm around her with affection as we walked into a store, disguising the fact that I was at times having to assist her when walking was difficult. When her hands began to fail her, I learned how to wash her hair the way she liked, massaging her scalp while she closed her eyes and smiled.

I knew her lips so well that I was familiar with every contour. I kissed those lips every day, more than once--every morning when I would leave, every day when I would come home, and for no particular reason in the hours afterwards. Sometimes I would hold her hands while I kissed her; other times, I would hug her and pull her close to me; still other times, I would rub her back to alleviate some of the day's burdens as I kissed her. She knew me just as well, and would frequently brighten a dreary work-heavy evening with a kiss "for nothing 'cept I love you," as she would always reply when I would ask, "What was that for?"

She knew me just as well. She knew me in my youth, when we were just learning one another's bodies and touch was new and exciting. She knew my body as it changed with age and injury. She knew the long scar of my heart surgery; I remember when she gently brushed across it after it had healed, asking if it hurt when she touched it, not wholly convinced when I told her it didn't (even though I was telling her the truth). Her fingers knew the sunken depression of my torn bicep, an injury that left me self-conscious because to me it looks freakish; she  never saw it that way. She would joke about my bony knees when I would hold them together, leaving a space above them where the thighs didn't touch (she loved to rub my leg above the knee and joke, "I wish my thighs were like that," even though I thought her thighs were just perfect the way they were.)

Best of all, I was graced with a woman who welcomed my hugs, my caresses, my kisses. Unless you've been lucky enough to spend most of a lifetime with someone who enjoys physical contact as much as you do, you can't fully appreciate what a gift that is. After a while, you take it for granted because that's the way it's always been. Then, when it's taken from you... that's when you fully realize what a gift it was.

Once that's gone, there's a void that can't be filled.  It might seem contradictory (and I guess it is), but I'm not a hugger or a person who touches others. It  seems intrusive and invasive to simply hug or touch someone without knowing that the person wants to be hugged. I am apprehensive about spanning that physical gap, because I would never want to make someone else uncomfortable.

Knowing that there's someone who always welcomes your hug, shares your kiss, enjoys your touch, and lovingly returns those hugs, kisses, and touches--that's physical intimacy, and there's nothing better. But you'll never know just how important it is until it's gone away, and you realize you'll never share that level of physical intimacy again. Coming to terms with that--that's one of the hardest parts of losing someone you love.

Fifty Years Ago This Week in West Rome - 3/9/1970 to 3/15/1970

West Rome was ground zero for funny money this week in 1970. Counterfeit $20 bills (all with the same serial number) showed up at two West Rome groceries and at the First National Bank. Soon after that, a girl found three more bills scattered along Williamson Street in West Rome. After she heard the story about counterfeit bills on the radio, she called the police and turned in the three bills. Rome City police investigated and then called in the Secret Service.

Village Inn Pizza opened at 1803 Shorter Avenue in West Rome this week in 1970. The restaurant was open from 11am to 12am on Monday through Saturday and from noon until 10pm on Sunday, with live entertainment by Frances Jones and her Dixieland Band both Friday and Saturday. In addition, the restaurant offered prize drawings every hour on Fridays and Saturdays for their grand opening, along with free soft drinks, candy, and balloons for kids. (Village Inn became a favorite for Susan and me in the 1970s, because their Italian sausage was richly flavored with lots of fennel and they often offered ground pepperoni, a pizza topping a preferred to sliced pepperoni because it enabled you to get a richer pepperoni flavor in each bite. But one of the main reasons we liked it was that it was so convenient, less than a mile from my parents' house in West Rome. Convenience is always a big plus!)

Sheriff Joe Adams kept his promise to enforce Georgia' blue laws, arresting Big K manager Montie Rasure and assisting manager Levi Phillips for violating the Sunday closing law. According to the Rome News-Tribune, "the atmosphere inside the store was almost festive, and everyone from the sheriff to Rasure seemed amused about the entire affair. Employees and customers voiced approached newsmen and voiced their opinion about the Sunday closing law after asking what the sheriff was about to do." The most insightful comments quoted in the paper? "If the Sheriff locks this place up, he out to lock up all the mills are here that open on Sunday, too. I need a day off," and "That damned law don't make a bit of sense to me. It's plum cockeyed." When the managers realized that the officers planned to arrest clerks for selling the merchandise, Rasure and Phillips stepped in and sent the clerks elsewhere, manning the registers themselves to ensure that no one on their staff went to jail for selling the merchandise. Customers applauded the manager and assistant manager for their actions to protect their staff from arrest. (And if there was any doubt that this was the beginning of the end of Georgia blue laws, the response of the people watching this show put that to doubt.)

The Department of Health, Education, and Welfare turned their attention from high schools to colleges in the spring of 1970, serving notice that Georgia and nine other states were operating segregated college and university systems. The notification gave Georgia until the end of April to submit desegregation plans. It was pointed out that Floyd Junior College, under construction for a fall 1970 opening, would be fully desegregated from the day it opened.

Temperatures dropped to a sub-freezing 20 degrees on Saturday night, March 14th, tying the all-time low record for that date. Sunday night saw scattered snow flurries with a low of 35 degrees--but because it never got below freezing, the snow melted soon after falling and there were no weather-related problems.

Piggly Wiggly had fresh whole fryers for 29¢ a pound, Oscar Mayer hot dogs for 69¢ a package, and sweet potatoes for 12¢ a pound. Kroger had jiffy steak for 89¢ a pound, Starkist tuna for 33¢ a can, and fresh strawberries for 29¢ a pint. A&P had T-Bone steak for $1.19 a pound, Bush beans for a dime a can, and tomatoes for 39¢ a pound.  Big Apple had whole hams for 43¢ a pound, Campbell's tomato soup for a dime a can, and bananas for a dime a pound. Couch's had leg o' lamb for 79¢ a pound, Saltine crackers for 39¢ a box, and lettuce for 15¢ a head.. 

The cinematic week began with Gaily, Gaily (starring Brian Keith) at the DeSoto Theatre, Chastity (starring Cher) at the First Avenue, Cactus Flower (with Walter Matthau) at the Village, and Planet of the Apes (starring Charlton Heston) at the West Rome Drive-In. The weekend switch out brought Downhill Racer (starring Robert Redford) to the DeSoto Theatre, The Sterile Cuckoo (starring Liza Minelli) to the First Avenue, John and Mary (starring Dustin Hoffman & Mia Farrow) to the Village, and Lady in Cement (starring Frank Sinatra) to the West Rome Drive-In. 

Simon & Garfunkel's "Bridge Over Troubled Water" held its lock on the number one slot this week in 1970. Other top ten hits included "The Rapper" by the Jaggerz (#2); "Give Me Just a Little More Time" by the Chairmen of the Board (#3); "Instant Karma (We All Shine On" by John Lennon (#4); "Rainy Night in Georgia" by Brook Benton (#5); "Let It Be" by the Beatles (#6); "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" by the Hollies (#7); "Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)" by Edison Lighthouse (#8); "Evil Ways" by Santana (#9); and "Didn't I (Blow Your Mind This Time)" by the Delfonics (#10). 

Food for Thought

We all have foods that are a part of our lives. Meals that we have made dozens, even hundreds of times. Dishes that we have shared with those we love. Favorites that have become a tradition.

My dearest friends brighten my week by joining me for dinner at El Rodeo every Wednesday. I have gotten the same thing every week for more than a third of a century: nachos mara, chicken and beans but no beef, no sour cream, extra lettuce, add guacamole. Reeently, the wonderful staff has begun referring to it as "The Cliff." The affection behind such a gesture always makes me smile. When I go to the restaurant on other days (and sometimes I eat there three or more times a week), I order something different, because "The Cliff" isn't just a great dish, it's a dish whose most important ingredient is the love and friendship that makes that meal the highlight of my week.

Susan had her first pizza ever on a Saturday date with me back in 1970. She loved it. From that week on, we had pizza for Saturday dinner almost every week of our lives. Village Inn, Pizza Inn, Petro's, Pizza Hut, Pasquale's, Mellow Mushroom, Everybody's, Rosa's, Bellacino's, La Bella's, Capozzi's, Domino's, Jet's, Star, Night Owl, DaVinci's, Peace Love & Pizza, Santino's, G'Angelo's... lots of pizza places over the years. Some great, some good, some mediocre, some pretty crummy. Didn't matter, though. I was having pizza with Susan, just like we did every Saturday, and if it was great, we relished it. If it was bad, we started talking about where we were going to get pizza the next Saturday. 

My mom made the best Irish stew ever. Some friends who are sticklers for detail correct me, saying that the ingredients Mom added weren't in classic Irish stew. I didn't care. They were in my mom's Irish stew, so there were in my Irish stew. Mom shared the recipe with Kim and me when each of us got married, and every time either of us made it, we didn't call it Irish stew--we called it Mom's Irish stew. The day before Mom went into the hospital for the final time in her losing struggle with emphysema, she sat in the kitchen and watched Dad make Irish stew for everyone. When it was ready, she took a bite, then smiled. It was Mom's Irish Stew. 

Dad loved to grill barbecued chicken. There's an art to it. Get the grill too hot, let it sit on one side too long, and the sugars in the barbecue sauce blacken and carbonize and the barbecue chicken becomes bitter and crunchy. Cook it at the right temperature, the barbecue sauce darkens and crisps ever so slightly at the thinnest part of the chicken. Dad got it right every time. I never learned that art, but I wish I had.

Mom and Susan both made spaghetti and meat sauce. Each recipe was very different. Mom's was the recipe she had learned from her mother, modifying it to suit Dad's tastes. It was the recipe I grew up with--slightly sweeter, bigger bits of green peppers and onions cooked until totally soft. Susan's was made the way her family made it when she was a child--a more robust tomato tang, smaller pieces of onion and green pepper and red pepper, sautéed to the point where there was still a  bit of crispness, with thinly sliced mushrooms mixed in. I loved them both, but never thought of them as the same food, name notwithstanding.

Susan loved sweets for breakfast. Pop Tarts or muffins or cookies or cinnamon rolls or coffee cake--she loved them all, and would have them for every breakfast if she had her choice. I often joked that I could eat cereal for breakfast almost every day and I would be perfectly happy, but I liked to eat breakfast with Susan, so I'd usually have what she was having.

Susan and I often remarked that we had plebeian tastes. We routinely enjoyed the most mundane foods. Mrs. Gorton's frozen flounder and haddock filets. Stouffer's meat lover's lasagna. Two sandwiches, one made from Boar's Head sweet sliced ham (which, contrary to the name, is not sweet) and the other from mesquite turkey. Tuna salad with just enough mayonnaise to stop it from being dry, but not enough to make it goopy, with dill pickle relish. Chicken salad, made the same way but with sweet pickle relish. Progresso soup--hearty tomato for me, chicken noodle for her. Marie Callendar's chicken pot pies, to which we would add a can of sweet peas with mushrooms. Mrs. Fearnow's Brunswick stew. Chicken tenders from Publix or from Zaxby's. We looked forward to these again and again.

When Susan died, I couldn't eat a lot of these foods. Even those I did eat, I had to change. Zaxby's chicken tenders were the last meal that Susan requested. I can't go back to Zaxby's. For the last few weeks of her life, I'd go to Wendy's and get a small chocolate and a small vanilla frosty every night at 9:45 and we'd alternate taking spoonfuls of it; I can still see her smile that accompanied every bite. I can't go back there now. I still eat pizza, but never on a Saturday. I make sandwiches, but only one, and I add a cheese that I liked but Susan didn't care as much for. If I have both turkey and ham, then I just eat the meat and the cheese, but no bread. I made tuna salad once; The memories were too much and I haven't tried it again. I hardly ever have anything sweet for breakfast, choosing cereal during the week and turkey sausage & Southwestern Egg Beaters with dry toast on weekends. Sometimes, I don't even eat a meal at home. When I have a big Wednesday dinner, or a great Friday lunch with my friends, that's usually my only meal of the day. Some of the changes are health focused. I'm getting a day older every morning, and metabolisms change with age. I work to stay ahead of that, so I eat to maintain my weight and my health. 

But most of all, I eat different because I have to. I can't be sad with every meal. And if that means eating meals at different times, on different days, or even not eating some meals at all--well, I'm okay with that. We all find our own ways to survive. This is mine.

But tonight...

Didn't know what I wanted for dinner, so I looked in the freezer. Nothing appealed to me. So I went to the other freezer. Two Stouffer's meat lover's lasagnas were at the top of the stack, where they've been for over a year, when Susan and I bought them. She never got to have either of them before the fall and the stroke and every bad thing that followed.

And tonight, Stouffer's lasagna sounded good. So I had half a box--about 675 calories worth--with a small salad. The same thing Susan and I always had. 

Good. Even better than I remembered. And I could remember how her eyes would squint when she took the first bite, followed by her saying, "This is so good." Every time. It made me smile.

Tonight I remembered. The lasagna, the squint, the remark. I remembered them all. And it made me smile.