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Gwynn
Williams
"The Mole People of Tam Hi" or How I survived the
"y" classes
Wow! I hear that in a few short months we'll have a class reunion,
and I'm wondering if I should finally reveal the dirty little secret
that lies in the underbelly of Tamalpais High School. To be honest,
life for me has been rather meaningless, and I've been slipping in
and out of a quandary of malaise and depression ever since Beavis and
Butt head were cancelled..... But that's another story. Today, I want
to share my experience as a "Mole Person" at Tam Hi.
It was on a cold and icy January morning in 1963, only forty short
years ago, in the familiar surroundings of the 'Office of the Dean of
Boys' a touching ceremony came to an end when this supersenior was
handed a diploma by an office worker and hurredly sent on his way. I
figured since my education was spent in the bowels of Tam Hi, I would
exit through the 'rectum' where the flies congregate and garbage
trucks enter to haul away the garbage. Armed with my diploma (and a
1.56 GPA), I strutted past the frozen, green slimy pond in the
courtyard, took a right turn and headed for Gomez Way. As I passed by
'Home Ec', the familiar aroma of cooked food caught my senses.... I
fondly thought ..."Nobody can match the food they cook up
there"......Later, I had to admit the Army came really close!".
My first step into freedom landed directly on a frozen patch of
ice that ran all the way to the bottom of the street. My feet were
sent upward and my head slammed onto the hard cement of Gomez Way as
I was sent into a microcosm of my life beyond Tam Hi......half
comatose and sliding out of control........... toward the hustle and
bustle of Miller Avenue, only to be run over by traffic madly rushing
to fulfill the 'American Dream.' My whole 'Tam" life flashed
before my eyes as I began my descent into oblivion............
.......My mind quickly reverted to September 11, (how appropriate)
But this particular 9-11 was in 1958, as this undersized classic
underachiever (Sentenced by his Junior High teachers' to at least
four years without parole in the Tam Hi "y" classes) spent
his first day of high school sitting deep in the bowels of the
hillside campus of Tamalpais Union High School. To ease my shock, I
affectionately remembered my primrose path that eventually led to
this disastrous day. During my Primary, Elementary and Junior High
years, I felt that contractors and carpenters preceded me, building
to my specifications, bright, spanking new, and roomy classrooms at
Alto, Strawberry, and Edna Maguire schools. Now, I sat in complete
shock in this dank little room...... It was horrifying! The first
thing that mortified me was the desk that I occupied. A decrepit
wooden chair with an 'arm' that spread out flat underneath my right
arm (Oh, how I yearned for my beautiful Formica desk at Edna Maguire.
My very own Formica desk that my sweaty little face stuck to during
my afternoon nap.....while Mr. Bobbio taught World History).
Suddenly, a thought came to me that momentarily gave me cause for
joy...."Hey, this is wood!....I can carve my name in this thing!
Despondency once again swept over me as I realized my idea was far
from original....the whole desk was covered with initials and names
of previous delinquents who occupied this chair. I thought to myself,
"I bet termites stood by and took notes as the "Future
Janitors of America" carved this poor desk into near
sawdust!" Suddenly, the sound of gushing water caused me to
glance upward toward the ceiling. Again, my mind wandered back as I
fondly remembered the majestic skylights that adorned the ceilings at
Edna Maguire........ those beautiful adjustable skylights that
welcomed the abundant and warm sunlight onto my precious little
person. Unfortunately, (fortunately?) my desk was situated directly
in front of Shelly Schwartz, so I had to lean a little bit forward to
receive my share of sunlight.
The specter of what I saw on the ceiling of this stuffy little
room at Tam Hi jolted me out of the warm bosom of Edna
Maguire.......This room had pipes running along the ceiling and
walls! Maybe some of you "x" students remember hearing
'tapping' sounds on the pipes during a rare quiet moment in one of
the bathrooms......Yes, it was one of the "Mole People"
desperately trying to make contact with the outside world. Every day
was like a gloomy rainy day as water rushed every which way just
above our heads. "A regular guy" had a whole different
meaning to a "y" student. Every time a rush of water passed
overhead, we would peer upward at the ceiling, much like the crew of
the German U-boat in the movie "Das Boot".... as they
nervously awaited the concussion of the depth charges.......Sweat
beads formed on our heads as we waited for one of those pipes to
burst forth and flood the classroom with a biological terror that
would make the Taliban envious! We were so deep in the bowels of Tam
Hi, that one time a student rushed too quickly up the stairs after
class. We later found him near the top of the stairwell writhing in
pain with the "bends".
My slide down Gomez continued.....I went further into
unconsciousness and had a vision that Mill Valley was a mining town.......
"For the third time in the opening weeks of 1962, the loud
and low moaning sound of the siren instantly brought us to attention,
reminding us once again that some of our loved ones were
trapped.......Victims of the mine owners' greed as he cut corners to
stuff his greedy pockets. The wailing siren drones longingly into
Meyers Department Store, Mill Valley's lone 'skyscraper' that
overlooks the bustling downtown metropolis. Situated above the top
floor inside the penthouse is Taylor Hawks, Mayor of Mill Valley and
owner of the mines that honeycomb the hillsides. Standing at rigid
attention in the magnificent office is the mayor's right hand man,
Stinson Hallpass, dutifully taking in a smorgasbord of verbiage from
the mayor. Taylor Hawks is an aging and huge overfed volcano of a man
with a graying shock of bright red hair. A stark warning for all
those who would dare provoke him, knowing they could set off an
eruption of monumental proportions (Pretty big words for an old
"y" student....huh?). Only his closest and bravest friends
called him "Red". In a strange resemblance to a John Madden
tirade along the sidelines, Taylor Hawks paces back and forth behind
his oversized and opulent balsa wood desk. With hands flailing and a
hint of steam emanating from his ears, his heated words slowly rise
above the monotonous tone of the siren.
"......And another thing Stinson, I'm a visionary!! I know
what's best for this town!! Wasn't it Taylor Hawks who got rid of
those ugly Electric commute cars in the early '40's?.......'Used to
call 'em E-cars....buzzing silently back and forth...... One of those
things could sneak up and flatten ya before you knew what hit
you.....That's if you weren't electrocuted by that 'third rail'
first! You need noise Stinson......Industrialized America needs
noise! Look at those sleek Greyhound buses across the street...What
an awesome and beautiful sight (Hack-hack-cough). And another
thing....Those old E-cars were always late, and that meant the mail
they were carrying was always late!
Remember? We used to call the late mail "E-mail". Let me
tell ya Stinson, E-mail will be synonymous with late mail forevermore!
".... And another thing....Wasn't it Taylor Hawks, who came
up with the idea of mining this town?" "Yessssir, Mr.
Hawks" a slightly shaken Stinson cuts in. "But we've never
found anything, not so much as a Miwok arrowhea......"Doesn't
matter Stinson!! I've got the townsfolk on a venture!....That's the
American way....always searching and never finding.....Mill Valleyans
need some kind of misplaced hope...."A pot of gold at the end of
the rainbow" sort of thing. It'd be easier on 'em if I could
convince those folks in Sacramento to start a 'Lottery', but they'd
never go for it in a million years.
Look at those parasites down there on the sidewalk..... milling
around like little bugs.....Hey! Those are bugs!!....I forgot we're
only two stories up...Remind me to call the pest
control.......Anyway, I know what they're thinking....they want my
neck in a noose......Hypocrites! They name their high school after a
stupid mountain! Then those numbskulls name their mascot after the
people their forefathers slaughtered and have the nerve to print
"Indians" on the back of their uniforms....... Well, I
guarantee you they'll never rub the honorable name of "Red"
Taylor Hawks in the dirt like that!!
" .....And another thing....... "
Rrrrrrrrinnnng....Stinson picks up the receiver....."Uh
huh....Yes....I see....g'bye....Sir, a startling development has
occurred.....they say that methane gas has quickly built up in the
small cavity that protects the surviving miners" A look of
puzzlement covers their faces. "Can't be!!" Red rumbles in
loud retort. "There's no methane gas in our mines........Maybe
if they were coal mines....how'nhell did the methane gas get in
there?" Stinson, still manning the phone, turns to Red and gives
him the bad news just relayed in. "We have a report that the
miners ate lunch at C's " .......
"Ohmygod!!" as Red slumps despondently into his
chair......The "Special Sauce" ......I should've
known.....Y'know, Caeser should be slid outta town on his greasy
buns.....We could replace that greasy dump with a chicken stand!
Chicken! That's the ticket!......Can't go wrong with good healthy chicken!
Okay Stinson, let's go to the 'war room' and get those miners
outta there!" Red and Stinson hurry down the
stairs......."Ooops", Red remembers "This place has an
elevator!" Red and Stinson rush back up the stairs and enter the
elevator. Moments later, they exit and move toward a group of
engineers garbed in vests and hard hats as they mull over the maps
that drape over the giant "Women's Hosiery" display
counter. "Mr. Hawks!" cries out 'Head Engineer' Gus
Benefield, as he fans his sweaty and wrinkled face with his pith
helmet. "It's too dee......" "What's too deep! "
Red cuts in. "What?" Benefield asks........looking a bit
befuddled, Gustafson leans over to his trusty cohort George Dean, and
asks. "What's too deep?" Dean mumbles "The mine
shaft....The mine shaft you idiot!!" "Oh" Gus, now
reminded why he's there, turns to Red and announces "Yeah, these
guys are way beyond our reach.....nearly a mile down and there's no
way we can reach 'em in time".
"Waitaminute!" All heads turn as a young man with mop in
bucket, slops and stumbles toward the group of would be rescuers.
Stinson offers a helping hand and steadies the young
man....."Son, your eyes are so small.......and you're so
pale......" The young man looks up, "No sir.....we call it
a bucket" "No no son....I mean the color of your
skin"...... Red cuts in. "Whattyawant! can't you see we're
in the middle of an emergency! If you have something useful to say,
spit it out!!" "Sure thing Mr. Hawks, I was one of the Tam
Hi "Mole People"...... I attended the "y" classes
and know for a fact that you can tunnel directly from one of our
classrooms". Gus Benefield quickly unrolls the Tam Hi blueprints
and exclaims, "He's right! From this here classroom we can go
right through the wall and 'tunnel-up' to the guys......" Red
yells out "C'mon men, let's go.....and there'd better not be any
pantyhose missing when I get back!!"
Well, I'm sure many of you, during your tenure at Tam Hi bumped
into some of us "Mole People" between classes..... We were
the ones who staggered blindly along the hallways, banging into
lockers and walls much like a person leaving a Saturday Matinee at
the Sequoia theater as we tried to adjust our eyes to the bright
sunlight. I suppose I'm one of the fortunate ones. I had a vision
while working in the school office one day and focused my life on
acquiring and owning what I saw as a product that every office
couldn't do without. During these years, I bought up companies at a
surprisingly low price and merged them into one giant conglomerate. I
spent my whole life working alone at nights . I couldn't get along
with coworkers during the day.....seems that the voices in my head
offended them. Anyway, my dream has come true, just a couple months
ago I reintroduced my improved product on the market. It's been kinda
slow right now and I've been about as busy as a Wall Street Journal
photographer. But I hope things will pick up and by the time I exit
my super stretch 'Yugo' Limo at our reunion, I'll be known as the
"Carbon Paper King" of the world!! Oh, by the way, I do a
little writing.(Humorous short stories) Type in my name on any
on-line bookstore or go to Amazon.com and check out my latest book. |
