May 5, 1953

Tues night 5 May 53

Dear Folks

I got your letters tonight.  Glad to hear from you.  It has been hot here the last couple of days.  Really hot.  I got Margie off Sunday night.  Had a nice time and was glad she stayed.  After I took her to the airport I came back to Paso Robeles and bought a few things I needed.  I was going to ride the bus back but it was so crowded I missed getting on 3 buses.  So I went up to the corner and started hitchhiking.

I saw the restaurant where we ate dinner that Sunday night so I went over there and got a sandwich.  Later I got a ride back and got in about 10:00.  I didn’t get away till about 4:30 Sat afternoon.  Was glad you were here while you were..  We may not be getting anymore passes for awhile till basic is over.

We will be in bivouac 2 weeks, the 13 and 14 weeks.  We will start our 11^th week training Friday.  That just leaves us 6 weeks. 

I got the title to the car last night.  I will mail it to you.

I heard we may go to Ft Riley for that school I told you about.  I hope it is.

We turned in our overcoats and sweaters tonight.  I sent some C rations coffee, sugar and cream back with Margie.  Some cocoa too, that is the best.  Well not much more to say now.  I’ll write again later on.

Love, Ted

An explanation or two and a small back story

There were not many letters written in April due to the fact that is when we took our trip to California to see Dad.  By me I mean both my grandparents, Margie, and I.  Margie was Dad’s girlfriend and is mentioned a lot in the letters.  I remember her.  Tall blond.

Margie seemed more in a hurry to get there than we were, so to the best of my recollection I can only remember stopping once on our way out there but we must have stopped over night some place else.  I know one night was spent in New Mexico at a motel that was shaped like Indian Teepees.  I remember stopping at the California border and having to surrender any fruits and vegetables we might have been carrying with us.

I remember seeing Dad as we drove up in the evening standing by his barracks and the guest house we stayed in.  The people who ran the guest house were black and I spent a long time talking to a very attractive black lady.  I guess she thought I was a cute little boy.  A black soldier walked in on us as we were talking and told me he was going to tell her husband that she had been talking to me.  Sort of scared me.  When we checked out my grandfather gave me some oranges to give to the lady.  The same soldier was standing there as I went to the lady’s door and I still remember being some what intimidated and afraid he would tell her husband.

The only two things I remember about Camp Roberts is we went and played Bingo and one of the prizes was a pin that wrote underwater.  I thought that would be a neat prize.  We didn’t win anything.  The other thing is when my grandparents and I were driving around the base one afternoon and ended up on a road that we discovered was restricted for civilian traffic.  An army vehicle came up upon us and my grandfather grabbed my army cap and put it on his head so they would think he was a soldier.  I am not sure to this day if he was serious or not.

The weekend we were there we all drove to San Francisco.  My grandfather wanted to two three things.  Drive across the Golden Gate Bridge, which we did; eat in China Town, which we did; and ride the cable car, which he didn’t for reasons now I don’t recall.  We took a boat and drove around Alcatraz, visited the Red Wood Forest, and I am sure much more but that is all my 5 year old brain can recall. 

I don’t remember taking Dad back to Roberts but I do remember Margie stayed there, we stopped in Los Vegas, by grandmother bumped my head with the handle of a slot machine, some place in Arizona or New Mexico we saw tumble weed, got caught in a sand storm, went through the Petrified Forest, and saw the Painted Desert.

Dad mentions a couple of more new people in his letters of April but I did not know any of them.

The last letter Dad wrote in April was the first and one of the few times he mentioned anything about some “special training” he was going to receive based around “army intelligence.”   If you want to find out more about that go to my blog “The Adventures of Conley McAnally” and find the blog I wrote in November 2010 called “Spy Dad.”  It really is an interesting story and was not finished until dad's funeral.

Thur April 30, 1953

Thur April 30, 1953

Dear Mom, Dad, and Snapper

Well I guess you are home by now.  I am still on the 60mm motor.  Margie and I went to the show last night again.  I don’t know what I will do tonight. 

I had something happen today that may be good news and may not.  They called 16 of us out at noon to go to be interviewed by Government Intelligence.  It is a secret of some kind.  They sent 5 back because they had been charged with some crime.  They took down our life history, every place we lived, when you and Dad were born and where and all that kind of stuff.  All he told us was that we would finish our basic here, take our leave as usual and then go to a 2 week school which has something to do with aircraft in one way or another.  Then we would go to our port after school.  We will still be infantry as far as I know but will have two weeks of some kind of training.  I will have to wait and find out.  It may work into something good I hope.  They told us not to talk to anyone about it and even among our selves.  They will probably be around checking on my credit and character references.

I don’t want you to say a word about this to anyone at all.  I will let you know more when I find out more.  It must be pretty secret or they wouldn't have told us not to talk about it.  They picked us up in a truck and they just told us to get on, that was all they said.

Well how was the trip?  I got your card you mailed Monday.  I guess I will close for now, I’ll write later on.  I sure miss having you here to see at night.  I really had a swell time when you were here on your trip.

Love, Ted

April 19n 1953

Wed morn  April 29, 1953

Dear Mom, Dad, and Snapper

Thought I would take a few minutes this morning to write you and tell you I had a swell time last weekend and I sure hated to see you go back.  Margie is still here.  I saw her Monday night for a little bit and went to the show last night.

Guess you will be home by the time you get this letter.  Wish I had made the trip back with you.

We had the .45 pistol Monday and it rained all day long.  Got kind of wet.  Tues we start the 6mm motor and will be in it for about a week.  That will just bout finish our weapons.  Won’t have many more.  Will close for now.  Will write later.  I miss having you here.

Love, Ted

Friday Night Lights

I had not been to a Van Horn Football game in over 30 years.  Seems like Tom Koely and I went to one when the Falcons were finally playing for the Interscholastic League Championship but don’t know exactly when that was.  It was a first in school history.   Funny thing is I don’t remember if they won or lots.

When I was in High School I never saw a football game from beginning to end.  The last two years I was playing and my sophomore year I was too interested in trying to talk, with some success I might add, my girl friend, who shall remain nameless, to forgo the second half and head out towards the school buses that were parked un locked and with no attendants. 

But the other night Bev and I had nothing planned and I suggested that we see if Van Horn was playing and go to the game.  Those of us who are in our senior years get in free to all the high school sporting events sponsored by the Independence School District.  Being on social security one has to find free entertainment where one can you know.

When I was in high school Van Horn was part of the Kansas City School District and a fine district it was.  But because of miss management, forced busing, redistricting, family disintegration, lack of continuity of leadership, and a host of other reason real or imagined the district for many years was just a shadow of itself and Van Horn was one of the causalities. So much so that eventually a grass root effort lead by concerned local citizens and spearheaded politically by Victor Callahan, State Senator from the area bought Van Horn under the auspices of the Independence Board of Education.  Van Horn now has a bright future.  An alumni association has been established, scholarships have been given, and a hall of honor established for distinguished graduates.  I have been over looked for the last two years but eventually they will find me and be proclaimed as one of the honorees.  Well perhaps.

The Van Horn Falcons played the Butler Bears the night we went and unfortunately lost.  However the score on the field may have spelled defeat but those in the stands, kids, band, parents and all were winners.  The enthusiasm and diversity represented by the crowd, let alone those on the field, stood out and made me think that this is how it is supposed to be.  There were people of different races and ethnicity sitting side by side hand in hand, a far different picture than when I went to school there, but those were secondary identification marks.  First they were Falcons.  Nothing else had really changed since I was a young man playing or watching, at least the first half of the games.  Kids were laughing, yelling support, acting stupid, being courteous to the elders (which to my chagrins was me) and conducted themselves in such a manner as to make me proud that I had gone to school there. 

 Home coming is next week.  I think I will go.  Bev wants me to drag out my old letter jacket and let her ware it and if I can find my class ring she wants to put it on a chain around her neck. 

None of us can or should go back to Van Horn and expect it to be ours again, we passed that torch a long time ago.  But just perhaps for a few fleeting moments we will return to those days of yesteryear and remember what it is like to have the rest of your life ahead of you and not even realize it.  And if I am real lucky I might be able to talk Bev into slipping off to the buss at half time.

Merry Christmas Again

Tales from Conley


Toys for Tots,  A Christmas Tale (sort of)

Pitka's Point is along the Yukon River on the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta.

It is not exactly known when the first settlers came to Nigiklik, but they brought with them the Yupi'k Eskimo culture along with the name of "Nigiklik," meaning "to the north." Nor is it exactly known when Mr. Pitka decided to open a trading center.

Mr. Pitka and the trading center are long gone. The people of Pitka's Point enjoy their quiet little village and feel privileged to do so. One hundred and twenty-one Yup'iks live here. The school is the smallest in the Lower Yukon School District. So I went from the largest village and school in the Lower Yukon School District to the smallest.

The high school has been transferred to St. Mary's a few miles down the only road in the Delta and that leaves our school with a population of 32 in K-8. My class size was six. The teacher-to-student ratio could have overwhelmed one. The other three teachers had about the same class load but one of them had the responsibility of being the lead teacher and site administrator. Because of the astronomical class load, we had three aides, a librarian, a Yup'ik instructor, a maintenance man, a custodian, a cook and a secretary who didn't really need the rest of us.

Cynics might think Pitka's Point is a place where teachers go who want to retire but don't want to give up the fat paycheck. Think again. I had four subject matter preparations a day along with at least three and some times four levels for each prep. I also coached cross country, sponsored the student council, was in charge of the yearbook, showed movies every Friday, and held open gym each night for those students who could control their behavior during the day. And, oh yes, my favorite because it was so nondescript – special projects coordinator.

One afternoon just a little after Thanksgiving, I was passing the time away drinking hot chocolate, warming my feet by the stone fireplace and watching a sled being pulled by dogs on TV.

The phone rang and the caller said, "Is this Conley McAnally?" Without waiting for a reply he continued, "This is Sgt. Jones." I paused a moment and said, "This could be Conley McAnally. What do you want?"

Sgt Jones laughed and replied he got a lot of comments like that lately and assured me he was not a recruiter or the one who tracked down retired National Guardsmen for reactivation. I immediately became suspicious, though, because how did he know I was a retired NG?

"Conley," he said hurriedly, interrupting my paranoia, "your name was given me as the contact person for Toys for Tots for the kids in Pitka's Point." I relaxed and we coordinated the arrival of the packages.

At the scheduled morning a C-130 landed at the St. Mary's air strip – no small feat for such a big plane on such a little landing strip on such a cold snowy day. I drove the school truck to the rear of the plane and three Marines jumped down off the ramp and loaded four big bags in the truck bed.

We could not hear to speak over the roar of the engines, but the young Marine who seemed to be in charge – and I mean young – smiled, we shook hands, and he and his small band of brothers jumped back on the plane and took off.  I suppose they went to some other small arctic Eskimo village.

Driving back to Pitka's Point, it occurred to me that I did not even get the kid's – man's – name. He was doing the kids of Pitka's Point such a huge favor and they would be receiving Christmas cheer from a total stranger.

As I sit here writing this I realize how many Army, Navy, Marines, Coast Guard, and Air Force young men and women are allowing us to enjoy a Christmas this year and how they are giving us the most precious gift of all. All are giving us their time many have given their lives and like the young Marines that delivered toys to a bunch of Eskimo tots, we don't even know their names.

From Alaska - Log 11 (last)

8/17/04

Gee, no entry for a long , long time.  I am in Pitka's Point. Paula stayed back to take care of the boys.  I'm alone up here and really don't like it - the part about being alone.  But that has always been one of my fantasies, to winter in the far north alone and isolated.  Well perhaps I am not that isolated there are three other white teachers, several native staff, and 120 other villagers.  Interesting place so far.

8/23/04

This last week has been spent getting ready for school.  It starts Wed the 25th.  I went for a walk after dinner tonight and found myself on the banks of the Yukon River talking to a couple who were kayaking to Nome.  I told them they could come up to the school and use the Internet to check mail.  They may come up later.

8/24/04

School starts tomorrow.  I am about as ready as I ever am.

8/26/04

School is OK.  I only have seven in the class.  A real dream job.  There are only 35 in the whole school.  The grades are K - 8, and then the kids transfer to St. Marys, about 15 miles down the one road in these parts.  There is one young man named Gabe who is very smart and one other who is funny as all get out.  The others are good kids, but there is always one with an attitude.  The problem is that his grandmother is my assistant.

8/28/04

I am the cross country coach which is stupid because I don't know the first thing about it, but some one had to do it and I am the only man on staff and the ladies did not want to.  I got a book about it and set up a practice schedule but the kids sort of come and go at will.  They don't like to practice for very long.  Their parents take them netting or hunting, or they have to baby sit.  There is always some reason.  Gabe seems to be the best.  There is a district rule that they have to practice 10 days before a meet.  To accommodate the kids I have practice on Sat and Sun, sometimes 2 per day so they can get in the required practices, gee what a nice guy I am, but it is not like I have much else to do.

8/29/04

Went to church in St Marys.  They have a Jesuit society there.

9/1/04

Got paid, $3781 clear.

10/16/04

Took Claudia, our principal-lead teacher to the airport this moring.  She is going to Anchorage for a principals meeting.  Left me in charge.  Perhaps I will call school off for the rest of the week.


Note to reader:  For some reason I stopped keeping a log as such and have no more day to day entries to make.  Some how now and then I run across items that seem to fit this narrative and if I do I will plug them in a long the line.  

I didn't call off school that week.  I don't remember the names of the other teachers except for Claudia and I can say we were all friends but not close ones.  Some of my story's take place in Pitka's Point and when they do I identify it as such.   I had thought that that would be my last year but Paula filed for divorce when I was there and sort of left me in a financial bind.  Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but usually for some one else.  That is not really fair, she had a host of family problems  to deal with and one can only do so much.  We tried to reconcile but its is hard to do over the phone etc.  I saw her once the following year but nothing really came of it. I have not seen her since, that shipped sailed.  I came back one more year (four years all toghether with a summer school thrown in) and have visited three more with a tip planned for this late spring.