Kurt Gorham:  

Once a Highlander, Always a Highlander My fondest high school memories were in two locations, First as a Howell Highlander in the lower peninsula of Michigan in the Fall of 1974, a Freshman working mornings at the Diamond Dot Market, on a two lane M59 stocking groceries, filling beverage coolers, and making sure the Dairy counter was full of Country Fresh milk gallons.. Pepsi was the best cold selling soda. The "Cheap" plastic bottles and aluminum can revolution were replacing labor intensive "Glass" returnables..The block building at 333 E Highland was removed a longtime ago, all that remains is a grass lot, and one pole yard light, covered in vines. .Does make one wonder how many thousands of cars pass each day? For those old enough you may remember the free chicken BBQ cookouts done each Fourth of July, all in the name of Customer Appreciation, over a cinder block pit in front of Joe Harris' white home. Over 800 cases were prepared beforehand into quarters, kept iced until bar-b-qued on the pit. Our ads always took four pages in the Livingston County Press, call us 5-4-6-0-8-3-0 our signature footer.. The daily morning news spots sponsored on WHMI, always listening, while the morning brew of coffee, an aroma that filled the store, the Hole-n-One donuts made fresh daily with a variety of glazings..Who could forget the nickel candy bar rack, eight varieties of caramel, chocolate, peanuts, or a crunch We also had the penny candy at each register to round up your sale, your sweet tooth was covered with Jolly Ranchers watermelon hard candy, tootsie rolls,.taffy twists, five cent Mallo cups, or individually wrapped Double Bubble gum. My weekday afternoons spent in class, with occasional struggles of learning, adapting to a new social hierarchy called high school, the joy from a great joke, working along side fellow Freshman and Sophomore classmates, the student population bulging at the seams in Howell High, seemed like over 3000 young adults, upper class mates had the morning shift from 7am-noon. The essays in English, writing technical descriptive's, shooting for the 1500 word counts. A class project in Geography, a visual report on Tennessee, little did I know 25 years before hand, I would make my home there. There were the Pep rallies in the gym,the stand filled with jubilant students, the roar of the cheers. Outside the vivid yellows, the reds, those Autumn colors, yards of fallen Maple leaves, Friday night football games, the dances in the gym, and quality time spent with Ann S, her yellow Schwinn, and golden blonde hair.. The humor of her best friend Reese with long wavy blonde hair,, always sporting an Army jacket. The rides in late September on my ten-speed Motobecane to and from school, some late mornings extremely crisp air, the five miles and back streets away from automotive traffic on Grand River Avenue, Soon the weather changed, Indian summer was gone, gray, cloudy days were more frequent, and rain showers typical Michigan weather, and back to riding the big yellow buses. The school day went from noon to 530pm:. History, Algebra, Art (paint, or drawing), and Physical Science, an semester project of experimentation, determine the ingredients in the magical, dark solution with many small, decisive experiments. My fall semester days always finished in Wood shop with Mr Foxworthy, a native West Virginian, my hand built projects included a turned wooden lamp, rifle rack, and a wooden cassette tape case. I still love wood projects to this day, many of which were in my last home in Nashville, with custom wood casement trims for windows, and inlaid hardwood floors. A Viking Quest In February of 1975, the Diamond Dot Market was sold just two months before, the family moved many miles south to Rowen County Kentucky, A day with dreary gray skies, a light snow shower, a sad day inside my heart, everything I ever knew left behind. a few quiet good bye's. I didn't tell, very few knew I was moving, it wasn't a celebration to me. My older brother, Thom (Class of '74) would stay around Howell for another year. That weekend spent with grandparents in Ypsilanti, to reflect the past decade of companions, tag football with Charlie Cobb,, Cub Scouts & Webelo's activities, and hikes, motorcycle riding with Dave Standler, the Saturday Bowling league at the Howell Bowl-e-drone, the one season of Little league with only one hit to first Base: "out" A flood of micro memories, each saying a gentle good-bye before a six hour truck ride, four of us squeezed into the blue '72 GMC cab, a truck we later found out that could get stuck on a wet leaf.. The flatness of farmland of rural Ohio, the ca-chunk, ca-chunk in the concrete highway, it was taking forever, silently staring out the fogged, the occasional water droplet dancing horizontally on the glass passenger window, winter snow, and corn stubble, fields devoid of life,, the rumble of a passing diesel, followed by the rock of the tail wind. Our southbound journey down US23, meeting up with I-75 in Toledo, further south a left at Dayton, continuing south on US68 to Maysville KY, the narrow two lane green bridge over the mighty Ohio River, a left on KY32 took us the rest of the way to Morehead. Thus began the second phase of my high school experiences in the cold, crisp grasps of winter..the lingering smell of coal and wood stoves burning their fuel. Evenings listening to AM radio, Wildcat Basketball announced by Caywood Ledford, while playing Solitaire on the kitchen table in the pickup truck camper.. Spring time brought the start of a new home, a flat house seat overlooking the valley to the south. My fathers life long dream to live on a dead end road, he always said, "the visitors are either coming to see me, or they are lost". It was 63 acres, of rolling hillsides and hardwood forest, a 1.5 mile walk to catch the school bus in the dark each morning. This was culture shock, in the everyday sense of rural America, livestock and farm work. The nearest small grocery over five miles, Trent's Grocery at Wagoners Fork (KY 173). During summer, an evenings ride on the ten-speed,, always weary of the country dogs who gave chase. Even the schoolwork seemed twenty years behind Michigan.educational standards I didn't do much homework, study hall provided the time to reflect on my teenage goals. and practice my triangle football skills on the tabletop in the cafeteria. This new chapter, a milestone, the trading of green and gold tartan,and Scottish heritage the McPherson family brought to Howell, for the green and gold of the rugged Viking, an era of teenage memories, a high school with around 600, plus another 100 or so junior high youngsters, a rural bus ride of over 15 miles, curvy ridge tops, and winding curves of KY32 along Christy Creek. It took several weeks for my innards to get used to bus route on #37.. Roger Trent, our bus driver knew the optimum speed for each curve, with the schedule, held everyone firmly in their seats, heads bobbing left, right, back to center. Blinded By The Light, Meet "Flash Gorham" For those who remember Rowan Co Vikings in the mid 70's, I was tall at 6' 6", a skinny young man with a 35mm camera usually in hand, nicknamed Flash by classmates. Started by using a small 110 camera equipped with a battery operated flash to record my memories. I up-scaled to a new Minolta 35mm SLR in December of 1976 for better quality and a variety of lens system choices, spending a large amount over the next six months, one telephoto set me back like $300, but wow, the ability to close-up shots at a safe distance. Always a photo opportunity in those years, for the Viking Voice newspaper, or more talented photos that adorn the Viking yearbooks. Many memories captured, but now forgotten, smile. Countless rolls of black & white film, Lord only knows where all those negatives are now. I did come across the Senior Trip scrap book recently, The color photos still look good, but everyone looked so young in 1977. For me, my second high school experience was finished in two and a half short years, with the help of a couple of correspondence classes in Science and Mathematics. finished just before the '77 Senior Trip for Daytona Beach Florida. The Winter snow storms of '77 kept us at home till Mid March, road salts were depleted in February, local Highway departs resorted to cinders, ash, and some sand on mountain roadways. Then came Saturday school sessions to make up classroom time. Who could get much rest on j...Expand for more