Alice and Jerry… and Mr. Carl

I learned to read with Alice and Jerry (not Dick and Jane). Those wonderful books, along with Alice and Jerry themselves, remain vivid in my mind… as do Alice and Jerry’s parents, their dog Jip, and their neighbor, Mr. Carl.

Mr. Carl was my favorite. He lived in a cozy cottage and spent his time puttering around his yard and garden. If I recall, he had a bird in a large birdcage in his living room. He was much older than Alice and Jerry’s parents, and I liked him because he lived a peaceful, quiet life and seemed very happy. 

One particular story mentioned Mr. Carl raking leaves in his yard (on an autumn day not unlike today). I’m looking out my window as I write, and my yard, here in the shadow of the Blue Ridge, is a sea of brown and yellow leaves being brushed to and fro by a gentle breeze coming down from the mountains to the west. In the days before I owned a garden tractor (and started mulching my leaves), I would rake them… much like Mr. Carl.

When I first began reading, my teacher was Mrs. Munyon (first grade). She was an older woman with white hair and black-rimmed reading glasses. Each day, she introduced the class to three or four new words, each of them printed on large flashcards that she would slide into a display hanging from the top of the chalkboard.

For reasons that escape me, I have retained the memory of learning the word “old.” Over all the years, whenever I think of Mrs. Munyon introducing new words to the class, the same memory always comes to mind… her teaching us the word “old.” It’s the only one I can distinctly remember. Strange? Or perhaps interesting? I’m not sure which, but I can still see the word “old” printed on its card and hear Mrs. Munyon pronouncing it for us.

Mr. Carl was old—and he still is. Isn’t it funny how characters in stories never age? If you read a story as a child and then again as an adult… even a senior like me… the characters remain the same no matter how many years have passed. They never change… and are always right where you last saw them. 

For me, Mr. Carl still lives in his cozy cottage… with his bird… and is undoubtedly raking leaves today.

Thank you, Mrs. Munyon, for teaching me to read (1962-63).

And while I am at it… thank you, Mrs. Lafoe, for taking the time to read the entire Little House on the Prairie collection of books to the class over the course of a single school year (1965-66). It is something I have never forgotten.

Thank you, Mr. Bufo (1966-67), for sharing your stories about your time in the Air Force in Thule, Greenland, and for taking the time to look at the “computer” I made. You were the first teacher to take an interest in something I did on my own.

Thank you, Mrs. English (1967-68), for being (simply put) the nicest teacher I ever had… and for moving me from the back of the room to a desk in the middle when you noticed I was a little lost back there, in a desk that (for reasons too sad to write about here) went from being next to last… to last. And thank you for who you sat me in front of… it helped… a lot.

Mr. Scott, thank you for taking me from arithmetic to mathematics (1968-69), and thank you, Mr. Payne, for introducing me to the mathematical world (1972-73).

Thank you, Mr. Provenzano (1962-68), Mr. Fish (1965-68), and Mr. Ligart (1969-71), for the music.

Thank you, Mrs. Fowler (1970-71), for making me read three books over the school year… and for somehow knowing and understanding—on that day in November—when your well-timed “I’m sorry” helped me during one of the most fragile moments a fourteen-year-old can have.

And last but not least, thank you, Mrs. Jackson (1972-73), for making me write… and then liking what I wrote (even though I was not very good at it). You opened up an entire world to me.

I wish all of you could be like Mr. Carl… and I could find you right where I left you.

Shortly after writing this post, I wandered over to eBay and purchased the Alice and Jerry book you see in the photos. This was because I wanted to use my own images (not generic internet images). As I looked through the book, I realized I had purchased the exact book that mentioned Mr. Carl… and how old he was. Quite amazing, I think.