My version of the High Point story

When I was in first grade, (1951?) Dad moved the family from Eggertsville (Buffalo NY) to North Carolina. He had been personnel manager hiring people for a new Sylvania plant there, and apparently when the hiring was done, we moved back up north to LeRoy NY, and he similarly opened the Sylvania plant in Batavia. Here is a googleshot of our house we lived in then, 708 Montilieu Ave. High Point NC: The view is looking south. I am a little confused about which house is which, but I'll figure it out. Below is sort of a brain dump of my memories from that short time being a young tarheel.



Upper left is the woods I started on fire playing with matches. The Ray Street School, which Merry and I went to was torn down years ago, but was about a mile to the right here. I found the vacant lot for that school when Martha and I went back there. I also found Armstrong Park, where I remember catching crawfish and learning to make boondoggle lanyards in the summer at sort of a day camp.

I think I remember sitting in the living room watching TV with ads for Lucks Pinto Beans and Orville the Orkin Man, and probably the Howdy Doody show.
I remember the "Why you shouldn't drink water" animated lamp stashed in the upstairs closet.
I remember there was a Mulberry tree right beside the garage that we climbed to get on the roof.
I remember setting rat traps in the back yard and prying the rats out. Is that possible? I was in first grade.
I remember in school the teacher made some kind of jelly trays as some part of preparing masters for the mimeograph machine. It seems like I can smell it now.
I remember going out from the classroom to take the chalk whitened erasers from the big black blackboards that lined the room and pound them on the grate that covered the window wells beside the playground. I think it was a reward, not a duty to do this.
I remember a little one-roomed red school house in the back of the school, which had been the previous school, and it was still used for something.
I remember being teased by two kids at school for chewing on my pencil, and got a bucky beaver nickname.
I remember the plastic tokens they used for lunches in the cafeteria smelled like throw up to me. (or was that later?)
I remember that we knew of a family that lived nearby that the kids supposedly ate soap sometimes.
I remember that we had a black cat named Yose-mite who we left behind by mistake at a fair far away and she found her way home by herself.
I remember a few times Dad drove us out in the country to a fish fry restaurant and we had hush puppies.
I remember Dad bringing a movie projector and screen home from work and us sitting in the dark living room watching a travelogue type movie about a car trip through the south, including the blue ridge mountains.
I remember I was allowed to go by myself by bus downtown to the YMCA for some sort of swimming or sport of some kind. Is this possible?
I remember too well being bit on the lips by the neighbor Mrs. Johnson's collie. I had tried to chase it down with a rope, and it got me in the struggle. I remember crying and thrashing as the doctor and my parents tried to make me lie still for them to sew my lip. I felt guilty years later about that, because from time to time I felt self conscious about that scar, and realized I had probably made it worse by resisting.
I remember Dad and Mom hired a Mayflower Moving Van to move us to our next home on Summit St. in LeRoy, and the driver was Mr. Sullivan, who according to legend was very good to us. Some things were packed in cardboard barrels that had metal clamped hoops holding the tops on.
I remember these things, but what did I have for lunch yesterday? Not a clue.