Chapter 7
Fatherhood Over Night
“Fatherhood Over Night” is written primarily to describe my teenage courtship with my future first wife, Brenda Kay Stephens. Timelines and events are difficult for me to keep up with much less expect you, my dear reader, to be clear about. Before stating the facts of my teenage courtship, which was an event all to itself, I want to establish some dates, ages and timelines to help the reader follow along and understand what a “kid” experienced as the 1970’s began to unfold.
September 1970 – Coosa Valley Academy opens grades K through 10.
September 1970 (Age 15) – May 1971 (Age 16), 10th grade year CVA, 13 Students.
September 1971 (Age 16) – May 1972 (Age 17), 11th grade year CVA., 13 Students.
September 1972 (Age 17) – May 1973 (Age 18), 12th grade year CVA., 13 Students.
Brenda did not begin school at Coosa Valley Academy the first year of its existence but came to Harpersville the following year in 1971. Brenda was a year younger than I and began classes at CVA in her 10th grade year which was a year behind me and the same class as my brother Terry had been in.
Terry would not finish school at Coosa Valley and graduate like I would as my mother and Terry would soon have their on unique set of problems to deal with in regards to this school. It could have been the newness or the racial component but whatever the reasons were, Coosa Valley Academy came with its on brand of hurt, hardship, politics and problems. Remember dear reader, the late 60’s had just ended and it seemed a very uppity, “Christian” group of racially motivated parents would be determined to “rule” the new school in Harpersville Alabama with an iron hand. Remember to that my mother, Tera Mae Baker, had been a primary charter member in bringing CVA to the community as she donated all her household books to begin the schools library not to mention donating every typewriter for the schools typing class. These items were just a few of the many resources my mother donated toward the very existence of CVA as she was dedicated to the schools success from the very first conversations held regarding the communities privately schooled white children.
There have been few times I ever defended my brother in regards to alcohol or drug use. As a matter of fact, not only was my brother almost always assuredly guilty of any mentioned alcohol or drug use, he would usually be found right in the middle of such things all of his very short life. However, during the events I am about to describe, to this very minute of my life, I have always felt like my brother was framed and not guilty of what would go down at Coosa Valley Academy school.
For unexplainable reasons by me, the headmaster of Coosa Valley Academy seemed to dislike both Terry and myself. I have never known the details or facts of how or what all the rumors were that got started but apparently the headmaster, a Mr. Larry Morris, got the idea into his head that my brother Terry had smoked marijuana on some day in his life, something Mr. Morris was determined no one attending CVA would ever do.
To the best of my understanding, the headmaster began “interviewing” every boy student (other than myself) in the 9th and 10th grades questioning them in regards to Terry and pot smoking. None of my family, including myself, has ever known who said what but soon after the questioning, which was more like interrogating, Larry Morris drove to my mothers house, let himself into my mothers home (none of the houses on the farm were ever locked) and went into my brothers bedroom where he made himself at home searching all around Terry’s bedroom. (The headmaster performed this search on a week day right after school, about 3:00PM while my mother was known to be out on the farm working). Mr. Morris claimed he found a single seed of marijuana although I personally have always thought this “fact” was doubtful. I could not imagine my brother taking any kind of drugs without my being aware of it. Yes….. we both drank beer, sometimes together but preferably apart but I never used drugs as drugs were simply not my thing. Terry never indicated to me he was interested in taking drugs, although later in life and after his return from Sarasota Florida, Terry did become a user of many illicit drugs.
Larry Morris used this “evidence” to call a meeting of the school board and PTA where the purpose of the meeting was to expel the entire Baker family from Coosa Valley Academy. This was a very heated meeting in the small town of Harpersville in 1971 where tempers flared and feelings were trampled but when the dust settled, my brother Terry would be expelled from Coosa Valley Academy for life and pretty much took my mother with him. I would be left alone to attend and finish high school at Coosa Valley as I know today my mother did her best to try and shield me from all the personal hurt she must have endured with regards to this school. Mother never complained to me or treated my education with any sort of negativity although today I can not now imagine how she ever had the strength not to be bitterly hateful toward CVA. My mother solicited a cousin of ours, Randall Baker, for home schooling and he came to our house daily to tutor my baby brother until the day Terry would finally “graduate” and obtain a high school degree. Randall had a teacher’s certificate and sometimes taught at the nearby public Vincent school although I always sensed Randall did not really enjoy the newly integrated school.
This “first year” described above of Coosa Valley Academy was the atmosphere and environment in which I first met my future first wife, Brenda Kay Stephens from Talladega Alabama.
Brenda was from a small town about thirty miles from Harpersville. I had certainly never heard of Brenda or her family but I was aware of the town she was from. Brenda came from what was about to become a very popular NASCAR race town known as Talladega Alabama. For some reason most of the new students attending Coosa Valley Academy seemed to come from Talladega. I never made the connection between a red neck race car town and racism until well into my sobriety which would be thirty one years later.
It didn’t take me long to convince Brenda she needed to go on a date with me. After all, I was the captain of the football team, my mother had been a major player in building the new school, I was at the head in most of my classes except of course English and I was popular with all the girls. I think the later is what attracted Brenda to me.
Brenda and I had our first date in the late spring of 1972 when I was seventeen and she sixteen. I have always remembered that first date quite clearly. In addition to all my many other chores, I had recently gotten a job at a nearby grocery store named “Giant Foods” in the nearby town of Childersburg as a sack boy. As a matter of fact, Childersburg was between Harpersville and Talladega. The Giant Foods sack boy job provided gas, cigarette, beer and date money and enabled me to pursue my dreams. I found myself leaving from my job in Childersburg to go straight to Talladega and pick Brenda up. Childersburg was notorious for selling beer to minors. It didn’t take long for me to find a successful stop and “load up” for our first date.
After picking Brenda up, she surprised me greatly by drinking some of my beer. This was a new development since none of the other girls had ever seemed to care much about drinking beer. We discussed several things we might do that evening as we drove around Talladega drinking our beer. It wasn’t long before we drove to a secluded spot and “parked”.
We found ourselves parked out a deserted dirt road in rural Talladega county Alabama. We must have driven in circles for a while because I know a few hours had gone by as well as several empty cans of beer. Brenda seemed happy and of course I was euphoric. God had once again smiled on me because the situation unfolding was exactly as my many dreams had been. The two of us started kissing which quickly led to my roaming hands all over Brenda. We periodically broke this activity only to drink some more beer, smoke some cigarettes and laugh uncontrollably. Before long I discovered that Brenda did not mind my removing her upper clothing and me running my hands all in her pants. Brenda seemed to be quite happy with these events as I became bolder in my advances.
I have no idea how long it had taken or the time it had become but before the night was over, Brenda and I had both removed all our clothing and were lying in the bench seat of my new Oldsmobile Cutlass Callet. I had not sensed the intense thrill I was feeling since discovering my first kiss but my head was spinning with all the intense sensations running through my body. I was quite excited with the discoveries taking place. Pretty soon Brenda was lying flat on her back and I seemed to have acquired my spot lying above her. The throbbing growth below my waist seemed to have found its way into Brenda as I began to hear mixed moans filling the steamy car. The sensations in my body were far too intense to be able to describe in words. I simply knew I had found something grander than all my other discoveries put together. I had found something else that I knew I wanted to do the rest of my life.
Before long we seemed to have “emptied” ourselves into each other and a feeling of contentment took over in the car. We both sat back and inhaled on my Marlboro’s and sipped our beer. Brenda began to shock me with her strange comments about how our date had been to go out and make a baby. I thought she was crazy.
I briefly mentioned my new Oldsmobile Cutlass Callet above without really explaining the transition from my black 1956 Chevy and what happened to the greatest car to ever take the highways. The untimely death of my first car is truly an event that has haunted me each and every day of my life since 1972. The short answer for my beloved cars demise is that the 56 was a tragedy of an immature teenager. A little longer version would include the mentioning that after the rebuilt high performance engine described earlier in this writing, I simply raced the car to its early death and burned the engine up. I have missed that car every day of my life since that moment.
I did end up with a pretty cool gold colored Oldsmobile two door Cutlass Callet. The Olds came about because a good school buddy and fellow football player by the name of Billy Bearden had just purchased a royal blue Challenger. Billy loved his Challenger with every cell of his body and it would out run most any other car at school. Billy was a year younger than me and in the ever more popular underclass of CVA which included Brenda and previously my baby brother. I seemed to be closer to that underclass than my own class but Billy and I had become very good friends and we talked often as well as practiced and played football together. I would often meet up with Billy late on Friday and Saturday nights which is something many of us boys did after we took our date’s home about midnight.
On a beautiful fall day and right after class Billy decided he was going to drive home and retrieve something he had forgotten that morning before football practice began that sunny afternoon. At the time, 1972, the main highway was a state two lane black top running east / west known as highway 280. As 280 was the main road connecting the states two premier college football teams, Auburn and Alabama, the state newspapers referred to this particular highway as “Bloody 280” as it was prone to many numerous highway fatalities each year. Several years after 1972, highway 280 became a nice smooth four lane resembling our nation’s interstate highways but this fact came way to late to be of any help to poor Billy.
When it came to cars, even at the age of sixteen, Billy only had one speed when driving and that was wide open at all times. Looking back on that black day, the results really should not have been a big surprise to any of us as Billy really never took his foot off the accelerator when driving. Highway 280 could be noted for getting bogged down in a tangle of slow traffic as the winding two lane snaked around twisted curves and over blind hills and traffic would often pile up behind a slow driver. This obstacle would only prove to be a minor challenge to Billy as he would take the first opportunity to speed around the slow traffic in the on coming passing lane.
Word was that day, Billy had followed a line of nine cars through a dozen turns. Finally Billy topped a hill where he thought he could get around the entire pack of traffic and so Billy stomped the Challenger’s accelerator and pulled into the passing lane. Town gossip at the funeral had Billy running 120 miles per hour when he passed the last car which coincidentally occurred at the exact same time a curve in the road appeared. Everyone that viewed the crash scene said that it would have been impossible for any car or driver to have ever made it through the curve without leaving the road and crashing. Billy’s beautiful brand new royal blue Challenger struck a very large and old oak tree about 40 yards off the highway head on. The tree didn’t move.
As far as I know, if she is still alive, Billy’s mother is still burning a light in Billy’s bedroom which was only two miles further up the road from the accident site. I don’t think I ever saw anyone, now or then, mourn the loss of a loved one like Mrs. Bearden did her son, Billy. Ms Bearden knew the important things in Billy’s life at the time of his death and she asked for six of Billy’s closest friends to be his pallbearers and to wear football jerseys at his funeral. I will never forget the other five team mates that helped me carry Billy to his grave as we all rode in Randy Alexander’s green Nova right behind the hearse.
One of the most painful lessons in life I have ever had to learn, which incidentally did not fully come about until well into my sober years, is the fickleness of human beings when bestowing memorable achievements and accomplishments to someone deserving of such acclaim. After Billy’s funeral, CVA held a memorial for Billy which of course was quite fitting for the time as well as Billy’s current class. What I considered to be an action of great credibility was during this memorial ceremony, CVA added to the schools trophy case, located in the schools gymnasium, a framed 11 X 14 picture of Billy taken in his football jersey and then wrapped in his actual football jersey. My days at CVA were at this time growing quite short but I felt very touched by this warm memoriam of Billy who was a really great kid with a very promising and eventful future. In 1985 CVA invited the original graduating class as well as the class of 1974 back for a reunion where the “old timers” played a game of flag football against the current graduating class. When I attended this “reunion”, what interested me most was visiting the schools gymnasium and catching up on the history of CVA. I was astonished to find that Billy’s memoriam had been removed from the schools trophy case! I’m not sure I ever got over the hurt from this extreme shallowness of CVA leadership and I never again set foot on that hurtful school campus. CVA had finally taken enough from the souls of the Baker family.
When I picked out my Oldsmobile Cutlass Callet, Billy’s Challenger guided my car purchase decision more than any other factor. My Callet was very similar to Billy’s Challenger in many respects except one; it was not as fast. However, my Cutlass had just proven to be the ultimate date car during my first date with Brenda and, for a time at least, I quit missing my Chevy which was the car Cathy and I had dated in. The soft and cushy bench seat of the Oldsmobile had truly made a great love-making couch and was an experience I hoped to have many more times in my young and budding new life. I made my “boy” modifications to the Cutlass by putting wide tires on the rear, raised white letter tires all around, chrome rims and air shocks on the rear which made the nose of the car point downward; a common popular look of 1972 for teenage boy cars.
The days following my first date with Brenda had me walking on water as I beamed in my daily activities and looked forward to the next date with the Talladega girl. I knew I wanted more and more of those dates like our first one had been. Over the next month, every Friday and Saturday night Brenda and I had dates that included going to the state fair, attending ball games and going to popular restaurants like Lloyds as I continued to pursue the actions of our first date… elusively. Brenda and I were on our way back through Harpersville one crisp Friday night in October as we traveled back toward Brenda’s hometown of Talladega when a speeding car came up behind and flashed its head lights in an attempt to get our attention. After parking on the side of the highway I discovered the odd car following me was my mother with some very shocking news. A few hours earlier, this very evening, a good friend of mothers had been killed in a car wreck in Harpersville. The dead lady’s name was Beth Johns and she was 41 years of age. I was very fond of Beth and somehow this news seemed to equal the shock of what I had gone through with my father. I didn’t know how to come to terms or peace with Mrs. John’s death. Beth’s family, husband and children, had become very good social friends with my family and we would all get together and enjoy social outings such as going out to restaurants, movies, bowling, fishing & camping and many other social activities. Beth’s untimely death was shocking news on a Friday night in my small rural world.
At Beth’s funeral, (Beth Johns was buried in the same cemetery as my father), a good friend of my mothers from Childersburg named Audra Pate, (who was the golf pro at the Childersburg Coosa Pines golf course), had noticed Brenda and myself near Beth John’s grave site. Audra, I later found out, made a comment to my mother that I would later find very shocking. She had asked my mother if Brenda was with child.
The eventful fall of 1972 continued. A couple of weekends after Beth’s funeral, Brenda shocked me by saying she had something she wanted to tell me. Right away I didn’t like the sound of where this conversation was going. As Brenda spoke, pretty soon I understood the words I was hearing to be “Brenda was pregnant and I was going to be a daddy”! A landslide of grit landed in my stomach. I had no idea how to understand what I was hearing or what it meant. I was going to be a father? How could this have happened? Why did this happen? What did it mean? What would happen? Did I do something wrong? Was I in trouble? Was I going to hell? Would I die? My mother had taken my car away once before as punishment when I had to ride a bicycle the 20 miles to Brenda’s house, was I going to have to do that again?
The following day as I was dazed and confused, having absolutely no idea of what I was going to do, I went to speak with a trusted family member that lived nearby. The lady’s name I was speaking with was Gloria Tate and she was a cousin by marriage. Gloria had always been someone I could speak openly with and she did at least seem to listen to what I had to say. Gloria had often given me advice on various teenage subjects and I had greatly appreciated her friendship. I found myself seated in front of Gloria, in her home, telling her of the things Brenda had told me. Gloria did not seem to really be shocked but simply sat back and calmly announced that I was going to have to tell my mother.
The earth stopped. My heart stopped and I am positive that all life as we all know it stopped at that very moment. Tell my mother? Was this lady insane? I would rather be struck dead by lightning at that very moment. How on earth could I ever tell my mother about this? As far as my mother was concerned, there was no such thing as the actions that Brenda and I had taken. It simply did not exist, my mother said it, her church said it and I am sure somewhere in her well-worn bible it must have said it. How would I possibly be able to tell the lady that had controlled my every action my entire life that I was going to become a father? I was lost on how to handle this situation. I was dumbfounded, I was shocked, I was mortified…. I was scared.
Needless to say the following nights were quite fretful and restless. I agonized over what I was going to do. Maybe nobody would notice? Nah, that seemed to good to be true so I knew that would not happen. I simply had no idea how to handle this and no idea what to do. I knew I loved the idea of having a baby. I never doubted that, I certainly knew how to raise one. All I had to do was the exact opposite of everything my mother had done to me. That part seemed simple enough. I was also quite positive I would marry Brenda, become a happy family and live happily ever after. That part did not seem to be a problem, I had it all figured out. What I could not grasp was how could my mother ever be informed of these events? I just couldn’t conceive of that happening.
Then suddenly one day as I was getting ready to leave the house for yet another one of my fun nights with Brenda, I found myself simply blurting out these facts in my mothers presence as I tried to hurry out the door. Of course a look of shock came across my mother’s face as she simply plumped down in her chair. My mother looked at me and mouthed some words I either never heard or don’t remember. After some time I realized my mother was discussing something called an abortion. I had no idea what that was but come to find out there is a medical procedure that can remove a baby from a woman which of course kills the baby. Now that part I could understand. I later learned this procedure had always been something done in secret that no one talked about and had been illegal. My mind raced, perhaps this “abortion” was something done out behind the church for all I knew. My mother was explaining to me, with all the events that had taken place in our country the past year that something called Roe V Wade had passed in our nations supreme court. It seems the illegal procedure that had been previously performed out back of somewhere had now become a legal procedure in doctor’s offices across the land. I understood all this to mean that my mother was saying that my baby was going to be killed.
I was enraged and something happened inside of me. I quickly informed my mother in a loud and angry voice that I was becoming a father and that Brenda and I was going to get married, have a baby and live happily ever after. I left to go tell Brenda the happy news.
November 23rd 1972, a Thanksgiving Thursday, there was a small wedding at the Harpersville Methodist church. Brenda and I were married and we were going to live our happily ever afters in the basement of my mothers house. I was giddy with excitement and very positive all would go well. I could not be happier; I had finally reached the adulthood I had been striving so hard to obtain. We drove to Cheaha State park, which is where my parents had honeymooned and we stayed two nights coming back to my mother’s house Saturday November 25th; the day that Auburn blocked two punts against a number one rated Alabama winning 17 – 16 and the day I realized I had made a major mistake when I witnessed my new bride burning ice tea!
The love that changed my life forever arrived five and a half months later, May 6, 1973; just in time for my high school graduation.
