Introduction: I have many more adventures I shared with Donald Jenkins.  Maybe I can make time to write and share these memories.  The captions for these memories are much easier to create than the time, effort, and recall needed to write the details of these escapades Donald and I experienced growing up in our hometown-a small textile town in the South in the '50s & '60s.  The Thrill of Victory or The Agony of Defeat?, Upward Bound, Almost a Close Shave, Ghost Busters, and Sweet Hour of summarize only a few of the good times we shared.  I cannot be the only adult who can remember the good times growing up.  Instead of flash reporting memories one comment at a time, take a time-out from Facebook and tell us "the rest of the story" and Email to Joel Bailey.  Have no fear to what you will confess.  After all, the Statue of Limitations has expired.  I am eagerly awaiting your confession!



Nowhere in the world can you find two identical people.  Although, I was convinced I had discovered two identical RED-HEADED girls when I stepped onto the grounds of Rockingham High School as a freshman in 1962.  Brenda and Linda Mitchell (RHS 1965) were indeed biologically identical.  Linda was just as strikingly good-looking as Brenda, and Brenda was just as strikingly good-looking as Linda.  Both girls seem to be the same height, the same shape with the same smile, the same freckles, and the same eyes with the same twinkle.  Did I mention both girls were RED-HEADED with the same hairstyle?  Additionally, to confuse schoolmates and teachers even more, Brenda and Linda were always identically dressed.  To take the confusion to total incomprehension, the Mitchell twins were baton twirling majorettes performing side-by-side for the Rockingham High Marching Rockets.  If either dropped her baton so one could decide which twin to blame for this rare occasion.  Only the closest of friends could correctly call them by name.  The bottom line is as identical as God can create siblings, He makes them totally different.  Each individual has different talents than anyone else in the world.

One such person God blessed with unique and unusual talents and personality was Donald Jenkins (RHS 1966).  Donald was a classmate who was always fun to be around.  He was always thinking out of the box.  In fact, I am not sure he was ever in the box.  My dad Cecil McDonald (RHS 1941) carried Donald’s mail when he was just a toddler.  Pop said Donald was comical and entertaining even without trying.  The only item Donald was ever serious about was his baseball.  He was all business playing baseball.  Donald did not have the track speed of Jack Cooper (RHS 1966) but he could cover a lot of outfield with his long legs.  God gave Donald a cannon arm.  Donald was born to be a centerfielder!  In high school, I saw Donald throw out sliding opposition at every base.  Sometimes, he would throw a 300 foot knee high strike across home plate to a shocked third base coach and an even more surprised base runner.  Donald could not twirl a baton but he could catch and throw a baseball.  Yet, Donald knew he would never make a living playing baseball.  As he entered his senior year, Donald had a life changing question to answer.  Where am I going to college?

Being the scholar he was, Donald took the advise that American author Horace Greely offered in a July 13, 1865 New York Tribune editorial.  Mr. Greely pointed out the path to prosperity to the Civil War veteran looking for his fortune after the war when he advised, “Go west, young man, go west!”  Donald mailed his check and high school transcript, packed his bags, and set his compass for the western North Carolina Mountains.  He entrusted his college education and economic future to Appalachian State University located in Boone, North Carolina in the beautiful Great Smokey Mountains.  

Like all college freshmen, life was about to completely change for Donald.  The western North Carolina climate demanded Donald do a wardrobe makeover.  The local hometown boy could no longer stay warm with the same light jacket that comforted him on the mild Sandhills evenings of Rockingham.  Ski masks, scarves, gloves, and lined coats became daily wear for Donald.  The climate adjustment as dramatic as it seemed was no way as difficult as the mental adjustment required for role of college freshman.  All of us who have lived the college life can relate to the mental adjustments of college life as a freshman.  In high school, we could take the night off and not study.  Likewise, we could create a quiet study atmosphere by asking Dad or Mom to send little brother to his room to play.  In high school, we have all stayed after school to have a caring teacher explain a point or solution that we could not understand in class.  Life in high school was so simple.

Education took on an entirely different roll in the life of a college freshman.  Every college graduate will unanimously agree on mastering one course required for graduation no matter what the major. That one course is “How to Study.”  High school study time was never so as intense as the study time college courses required.  Personal time management was the secret to every student’s success.  One-on-one time alone with the course textbook and classroom notes was the first step in learning to study.  The path for Donald was no different.  He graduated from Appalachian in four years unlike the major changing, course dropping college career students we all have seen.  In fact, we can probably still name one or two of these friends who continuously talk about going back to college.  Donald is proud of his accomplishment and very well should be.  True to his “wild and crazy guy” persona, Donald posted on his Facebook profile page, “I graduated in the bottom third of my class.”  He reached the goal that college students around the world have as he walked off that stage with diploma in hand. Donald confessed to me that the school library became his study haven.  However, a funny thing happened to him on his way (the first time) to the library.  I must share his story in paraphrases as told to me by Donald.

“I met many new friends at school.  My new friends were from everywhere.  I learned many new card games.  I didn’t have the same daily routine I did in high school.  Some mornings I could sleep late.  I could go to a club any night during the week.  I could eat anything I wanted.  I even ate cold pizza for breakfast.  Weekends were phenomenal!  I had more fun than any of the 25,000 plus who showed up on campus for football and enjoyed the post game celebrations even more!  Intramural sports were a blast.  Since college was so much fun and I enjoyed so many extracurricular activities, I didn’t have much time to study.  After reading my scorecard (Donald related everything to sports.  He was referring to the early test scores and grades from his classes.), I decided if I stayed in the game (school), I needed to study. I discovered the library and it became a life-saver.  Never once did a librarian ask me to go shoot pool.  Never once did I see a librarian shuffle a deck of cards nor cut on a television.  In the library, I had no choice but to study.   I never will forget my first snow in Boone.  We had a light snowfall that day of three inches.  It started falling midmorning and stopped before dark. The school continued to operate as though it were a spring day.  Funny, back home schools would have closed for three or four days.  I had a test scheduled for the next morning and never thought once that class would not meet.  After dinner, I slipped on my gloves and rubber boots, put on my earmuffs, grabbed my book bag, and left for the library. 

While walking to the library that night, I was taken in by my wintery surroundings.  I thought of the few snows I had lived through in Rockingham.  With an exception or two, they were here today and gone tomorrow. This snow I was walking in was the definition of winter in the Great Smokey Mountains.  I loved the atmosphere I was in despite the next morning test awaiting me.  I was so happy I had enrolled at Appalachian.  I could even see myself living in the mountains after graduation. Suddenly, a thump in my back brought me back into the real world.  I turned around to see two students bombarding me with snowballs.  Wow!  I was in my first college snowball fight!  I knew my old high school buddies now in school in Raleigh, Chapel Hill, Greenville, and all those eastern North Carolina schools were not having fun like this.  I love the mountains.  These two guys must have been waiting a long time for a victim.  They had an arsenal of snowballs at their disposal.  Both guys were football size guys and threw snowballs with the accuracy of an offensive tackle.  They gave me enough time to stockpile a few myself.  It was a wet snow and packed into a solid ball (Donald’s hands were huge and I am sure his snowballs were, too.)

I was lucky with my throws.  I could hardly miss.  Every time I threw I just imagined that every throw was to Choo-Choo Gainey (RHS 1967) and I had just caught a fly ball and a Hamlet Red Ram had tagged up at third.  The winning run was headed to the plate when I released the snowball (Coach Eutsler would have been proud!).  Boy, I was having fun!  The two big guys moved in closer but they still couldn’t hit me.  They were just terrible.  Of course, the closer they got the easier they were to hit.  Suddenly, both guys dropped their snowballs and charged me!  The look in their eyes told me they were not having fun anymore.  They both wanted to play football without the football as they gang tackled me.  Both guys could throw fists with far more accuracy than they could chunk a snowball.  With a heavy book bag and two huge guys on top of me I couldn’t even get up and run.  My best defense was the fetal position.  Finally, they got arm weary, quit punching me, got up, and left me curled up in the snow.

Logic returned as I came to my senses.  The next morning test was calling me to the library.  Somehow, I could still study with one open eye.  The good news: the snowball fight could have been much worse.  Those big bullies could have pounded both eyes shut.  The bad news: I had to explain a black eye for about ten days.  I passed the next morning test and lived to walk off the stage four years with diploma in hand and proudly finish in the bottom third of my class!

After graduation, Donald went to work in Charlotte and originally moved into a house located on a street named “Easy Street.”   Of course, that “wild and crazy guy: told all his friends, “Yeah, I’ve moved to the largest city in North Carolina and now I’m living on Easy Street.  Life is good!”  I understand Donald still goes to Boone in the fall to see the three time National Champion Appalachian State Mountaineers play football.  He does not need to go by the school library anymore but I bet he thinks of it often when the word snowball is mentioned.  I smile and think of Donald every time I hear a weather forecast of snow.  Hometown friends like Donald are responsible for many of my precious memories of growing up in Rockingham, North Carolina - a small textile town in the South in the ‘50s & ‘60s.

Correction: I Cannot Tell A Lie! 04-09-13

Occasionally, but not often, you may pick up a newspaper and read a retraction on a previously printed news article.  According to Webster, a retraction is a withdrawal statement.  Usually, the author of the original story or report has misrepresented the truth.  In our world as kids, we sometimes gave the accuser an option.  He could either take back what he told the rest of our world or he could get punched in the nose.  In our adult world, one can stand by his recorded account along with consequences or he can replace his previous statement with facts.  Furthermore, a punch in the nose could actually be a libel suit, a.k.a. a punch in the wallet for an adult.

I must print a retraction on a recent story I wrote.  This story travelled through cyberspace and landed on the social media Facebook via World Wide Web distribution.  No one has yet threatened to punch me in the nose nor filed a libel suit against me.  I must also state that my good friend Joel Bailey, creator and web designer of www.rockinghammemories.net, is not and should not be held libel in a court of law nor in the court of public opinion.  In layman’s terms, this misinterpretation of the truth will now and in future references will be known as “a lie” and will be used in the noun and/or verb form throughout the balance of this statement.  I and I alone, Bob McDonald, will take full responsibility for this lie.

I now issue a retraction on a recently written memory about my high school classmate Donald B. Jenkins.  My writing was entitled Go West, Young Man, Go West.  For those readers and/or Facebook friends who cannot recall nor ever read this article, it may be found on the sidebar, Bob McDonald’s Page of Memories located on website www.rockinghammemories.net.  In this story, I categorized Donald as a “wild and crazy guy.”  For that characterization, I make no apology to anyone.  My portrayal of Donald was, is, and will always be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  If you do not believe me, ask anyone who knows Donald.  In this story, I summed up my memory by writing Donald studied hard and applied himself to the task of graduating.  I asserted in Go West, Young Man, Go West Donald proudly posted, “I graduated in the bottom one third of my class at Appalachian…” 

By taking a return visit to Donald’s profile on Facebook, I discovered my mistake.  Donald wrote “I graduated in the upper 2/3 of my class at Appalachian…” To finish in the upper two-thirds of your graduating class rather than the lower one-third takes immeasurably effort and study.  I speak as an authority on the subject.  Like Donald, I also finished in the upper two-thirds of my graduating class at N.C. State.

Donald, I humbly beg for forgiveness from you.  I hope this lie has not caused a rift between you and your family, you and your employer, and you and your Facebook and/or personal friends.  My prayer and hope is that the truth will set ye free.  I certainly do not want this lie to destroy our friendship whose seed was planted over fifty years ago in the sandy soil of Richmond County.  You are still and will always be a “wild and crazy guy.”  That fact not even you can deny.  I promise to continue writing about the times we have shared together.  I cannot tell a lie.  These adventures of long ago are today but a few of my precious memories of growing up in Rockingham, North Carolina - a small textile town in the South in the ‘50s & ‘60s.