A Very Bad Year
In the early morning hours of August 7, 1959, the summer I turned twelve, a fire at Garretson’s Building Supply ignited a truck. Parked nearby was carrying a two-ton load of dynamite and a one-half ton load of fertilizer. What is locally known as “The Blast” was an explosion that sent a ball of flame and a mushroom cloud of smoke over two thousand feet into the air. A Roseburg policeman described the explosion as looking like an A-Bomb; a pilot flying over the vicinity at the time actually thought it was a Soviet attack.
A number of buildings were leveled and others within the thirty-block disaster area had to be demolished because of structural damage. The blast broke windows all over the town, up to seven miles away and was reportedly heard as far as Eugene which was sixty-nine miles away. The blast crater was twenty feet deep and over fifty feet in diameter. The blast killed fourteen people and injured twelve others, among the dead was one policeman, several passersby and onlookers and residents of a nearby apartment building.
We got up early that morning to go bean picking. Even though we lived in the country we could see a glow over the mountain ridge. Days later we drove through the city and saw what looked like a war zone and smelled like death.
Even though my hurtful experiences didn’t compare to the devastation from the blast it was still a bad year for me.
One of the buildings that had to be demolished was, Central Junior High School which was ten blocks away from the blast. Students from both schools had to share the same building, Joseph Lane Junior High. Some students went to school in the morning like me and the others in the afternoon. The split shift left students unsupervised while parents were at work.
YMCA first began serving Roseburg in 1948. The new building opened its doors in 1960, skylights were installed over the swimming pool dressing rooms. You could imagine what some boys did. They climbed up on the roof to get a bird’s eye view of girls dressing or undressing. Paul, one of those guys told me later, Kelly had pretty breasts. He didn’t comment on mine.
In junior high gym class, we did an exercise which required us to move our shoulders and elbows back and forth recite, “We must, we must increase our breasts.” Why was that message given to teenage girls to be measured by the size of their breasts? Sadly that message got through to me. Did I measure up?
We had two periods of social studies which gave plenty time for students to get bored. The teacher didn’t pay attention, the boys whispered, talked and joked using crude language. Paul asked me if we would have sex with him, I ignored him.
That year I was having bad headaches. Mom wondered if glasses would help. She dropped me off at the eye doctor’s office. Later in my story I will call him, “Doctor Eye’s” office while she ran errands leaving me to fend for myself.
After my eye exam he said I might have breast cancer instead of a vision problem. He said he could tell by examining my breasts, he stood behind me and did just that. I was shy, naïve and vulnerable; he knew and took advantage of me.
We had Thanksgiving dinner that year at my Aunt and Uncle’s ranch in Sublimity. Their barn housed a grass seed cleaner for planting lawns. Two of my boy cousins suggested me and my sister Sophie play hide-and seek. The barn had lots of -hidey holes- perfect for the game, except it was dark inside. When I found a hiding place my oldest cousin stood behind me and fondled my breasts. I didn’t know how he exactly knew where I would hide. I should have left right then, but I didn’t think he’d do it again. I was wrong. He did it again I told my little sister “Let’s go to the house.” Later she thanked me for protecting her.
That summer I was working as a nanny for my aunt right after her baby boy was born. My younger cousin had a bedroom across the hall from mine. He had a knack for opening the door just as I was getting undressed, taunting me that I had little breasts.
After my son was born, men whistled at my milk engorged breasts, the only time I was whistled at.
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