Cape Carteret, North Carolina
When we moved to Yaupon Drive in Cape Carteret (at the time a housing development between Swansboro and Morehead City on Hwy. 24 near the intersection with Hwy. 58), the lots on either side of us were devoid of anything but trees and bushes and our neighbors consisted mainly of squirrels, feral cats and other animals. As when we lived in Hilltop Manor, many of the families were military as we were almost exactly equidistant from Cherry Point and Camp Lejune. The closest town was Swansboro and the Catholic Church there, St. MIldred's, was where we went to not only worship but play bingo as well (hey, it's a Catholic thing). My parents chose to have us attend high school in Swansboro rather than attending West Carteret High in Morehead City as most of those in Cape Carteret. It was a great place to live and just a short drive (or a bit of a walk) to the ferry across Bogue Sound to get to the beach, however to get anywhere else you needed a car (though I did on occasion hitchhike to Havelock or Morehead City).
Here my long suffering Dad opens yet another box with Old Spice in it (he should've bought stock in the stuff considering how much he got from all of us kids for Christmas and Father's Day).
This particular Christmas I received something almost every red-blooded boy wanted (at least that was my thinking then), a 22 rifle! That same day I went out on the back stoop and took some shots at different targets (did I mention that we were then surrounded with woods?). I was to spend many an hour stalking the squirrels and rabbits in the woods in and around Cape Carteret, hours mostly wasted as I usually returned home empty-handed. My junior year at Swansboro High School a new teacher arrived who was to influence me more than any other there. Charles Foss was someone who did not put up with much nonsense from anyone and with his size, he could easily intimidate almost anyone. For some reason I didn't kowtow to him as others, indeed when he was tossing barbs out in class, I just returned fire. This seemed to interest him and, when he began a debating team for the school he recruited me.
As it turned out, I had the skills necessary to succeed here and we went on to get into the state finals at UNC my senior year; one of the judges was involved with the debating team at UNC and suggested I apply there as he was sure I would be eligible for a scholarship. One final word, while the debating team did fill the school's trophy case (the athletic teams were adept at getting good sportsmanship trophies), there was no mention of the teams success in our yearbook the year I graduated. Meh! |
This is the only image I have of Charlie; a feral cat who staggered into our yard one day while I was waiting for the bus. Someone had poisoned him and it didn't look as though he was long for this world. I carried him into the house (Mom was an inveterate cat-lover as well). She shooed me back outside, called a friend of ours to give her a ride to the vet's office in Jacksonville. When we returned home from school, there was Charlie who seemed to recognize a good thing when he saw it and had elected to adopt our home as his.
He remained a mainly outside animal, coming inside only when it pleased him (usually related to the weather). He became a protector of our home and yard; no dog dared enter our yard or they'd be attacked by Charlie (he was about the size of a bobcat), but surprisingly gentle with my brother Paul (born with Down's Syndrome), being especially protective of him when he was outside playing in the yard. One memory of the disparity between my hunting ability and Charlie's; I had dragged myself home near lunch time with one scrawny squirrel (I think my shot had missed and this poor critter had died of old age rather than any bullet). As I walked up the driveway I saw Charlie sitting there in the sun washing himself with three dead squirrels lined up next to him! Some years later a neighbor succeeded in poisoning enough to do the job; really miss that cat! |