Jawbreakers and Buckshot
(A plan to get a free sandwich that backfired)
Screen 1 of 3I attended elementary school at the "Training School," a demonstration and experimental school owned and operated by Western Kentucky State Normal School in Bowling Green, Kentucky.
This "Training School" was housed on the campus of the normal school in the same building where my mother taught music education courses for college students preparing to be teachers. Since my older brother also attended this same elementary school, he and I would usually walk to school with our mother each morning, and the three of us saw each other frequently during the day.
When I was in the fourth grade, our morning recess period was held shortly before eleven o'clock on a natural playground behind the school building. During recess we usually played in and around an old trench used by Confederate troops during the Civil War. Our recreational activities were not organized. We just ran, sang, chased each other, and on rare occasion when we had any snacks we would eat.
One morning in the early fall--in the year 1922, I believe a friend of mine gave me a huge jawbreaker at the beginning of the recess period. This round ball of hard candy was not quite as large as a golf ball--but almost. I even had difficulty getting it into my mouth, but of course I did. It was cherry flavored, I remember, and it tasted so good that morning. I seemed to be unusually hungry.
With this jawbreaker resting heavily on my tongue, I began to chase my friend over the large rocks of the fort. Early in the chase when I jumped over the trench to cut him off, I suddenly realized I had swallowed the jawbreaker! As I said earlier, it was huge, but when it stuck in the lower part of my throat, it seemed even bigger, as it pushed my Adam's apple to one side. It really hurt and I didn't know what to do about it. I could not cough it up, and it refused to go down.
When I told my teacher about it, she suggested I ask my mother if I should be sent to a doctor. So I interrupted her college class while they were singing (they seemed always to be singing those "do-re-mi" exercises) and told her about the jaw- breaker. Instead of sending me to the doctor, she told me to go over to the kitchen of the student dormitory on campus and ask the Negro cook, Tom, for a glass of hot water--"as hot as you can drink it," my mother had said, apparently confident that the hot water would melt the hard candy enough to allow it to go on down to my stomach.
I knew Tom very well and liked him; so I gladly ran to the dormitory, which was only a few hundred yards away. Tom gave me the hot water, and as I sat there drinking it slowly in his big kitchen, I could smell some meat cooking in a big pot on the wood range. Tom said it was roast beef he was serving for lunch that day.
In a few minutes the jawbreaker eased down and I began to feel much better. By this time I was getting hungry, very hungry, and that roast beef smelled mighty good. When Tom saw me look into the pot several times, he asked if I wanted a bite of the beef. "It's just about done," he added. Of course I did. I was hoping he would ask me. "Yes, thank you," was my restrained answer. Whereupon, he cut a thick slice of the juicy beef with the biggest knife I had ever seen. He put the meat between two pieces of freshly baked bread and handed all of it to me, still warm but not too hot to eat.
Of course, I was relieved not to have the hurt in my throat any longer, and I was very hungry, but for whatever reason I was quite sure that was the best sandwich I had ever eaten. It was just great and I told Tom so.
After I had gobbled down my unexpected free lunch, I thanked Tom and went back to school to tell my mother and my teacher what had happened. Everyone was thankful that things turned out so well, and the usual schedule was followed for the rest of the day.
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