So the year was 1976. We were singing songs like “Do the Hustle” and “Kung Fu Fighting” and K.C. and the Sunshine Band’s “Shake, Shake, Shake” in our off-key voices, and we were just becoming aware of Casey Kasem’s countdown. The country was obsessed with the bicentennial, so when we weren’t wearing something prairie-styled or bell-bottomed, we were probably wearing something with the stars and stripes on it — hats, shoes, pins, T-shirts. Ford was president. Our moms all had macrame owls of some kind. And we all carried metal or vinyl lunch boxes with something like “Land of the Lost” or “Donny and Marie” splashed across the front.

And what else were we doing?

Well, in my little corner of the world, Mrs. Cox’s 4th grade class was planning a trip to Sacramento.

Yep, that’s right. In the days long before complicated school-related law suits and permission slips that asked for detailed information in 2-point type, Mrs. Jean Cox decided her class of 23 10-year-olds should fly to Sacramento for the day and zoom around on school buses to see the state capital, the governor’s mansion, Sutter’s Fort, the Nimbus Fish Hatchery, and Folsom Prison. Then fly home. All together. Continue reading →