Note from David Marshall: This entry is from "Just a Country Boy," the original memoirs from my grandfather Carl E. Marshall that inspired us to co-write "The Book of Myself". He wrote it a couple years before he died in 1994 at the age of 91. I will be drawing upon "Just a Country Boy" for the "Later Years" entries in this online version of the book.
"How did we ever get into camping, or RV-ing? I always liked the outdoor life and by the early sixties had traveled many miles and seen a lot of our country. I had been to Washington, D.C, New York, Chicago, and many other cities. All of these trips were in conjunction with my career (statistics professor at Oklahoma State University), and paid for out of state and national funds. It was obvious I liked to travel - especially if someone else was paying the bills. My wife Gladys did some traveling, if it was paid for by someone else. We could never have paid for our travels ourselves in the early years.
"In the summer of 1960, Gladys went to visit our son in Germany. While there, he took a furlough from his chaplain post in the U.S. Army and decided to see part of the country with his mother and family. They couldn't afford to go first class, so they decided to rough it. They took a tent and sleeping and cooking equipment and many other essentials. The 'hit the road' and spent a month camping and seeing the sounds and sights of not only Germany but several adjoining countries as well. They had a ball. I had lived with Gladys for nearly forty years, and didn't know she liked to camp!
"By the time we retired we decided we had to try camping. I bought a Dodge truck and put on an eleven and a half foot slide-in and 'hit the road' a few days after I retired. Our first trip was to Colorado to a meeting and on to Casper, Wyoming, to visit my sister Fern. We later traded our slide-in for a fifth wheeler, and for the next twenty years we didn't look back.
"We have traveled and camped in every state of the Union, the southern provinces of Canada, and the northern states of Mexico. We belonged to three different traveling groups: ITTC standing for International Travel and Trailer Clubs, and two chapters of the Good Sam Clubs - the Chiefs centered in Tulsa and the local Cowboy Country Chapter of which we were charter members."
Carl E. Marshall, Ph.D., February 1992
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Book of Myself - Middle Years - Education: A very difficult educational experience for me was:
I applied to Harvard Business School in early 1985. In April a thin envelope arrived from Cambridge. Not a good sign. Only thick packages offer admission. But it wasn't an outright rejection. I'd been put on the wait list. That meant for me to get in, other more promising students who'd been accepted to Harvard had to turn the school down. I hoped these students preferred the sunny California skies at Stanford to the cold Massachusetts winters. I waited and waited. No word for months. By late summer, I'd given up hope.
Finally, in the third week of August, I got a call from the dean of admissions that I had been accepted into the Class of 1987 at the Harvard Business School (HBS). I was thrilled -- but scared to death. Sure, I was a summa cum laude from San Francisco State University, but this was a whole different league of academic rigor.
I'd read that the incoming students were in the top 1% in their high school and undergraduate classes, and were not used to failure. But many of us would fail at Harvard. Since HBS grades on a relative curve, the bottom 10% "hit the screen" after the first year of the two-year MBA program. "Hitting the screen" means you are asked to leave because 90% of your fellow students are smarter than you. That's quite a jolt to the ego when you've always been on top. There are only three grades at HBS: Excellent for the top 20%, Unsatisfactory for the bottom 10%, and Pass for the middle 70%.
On a bright September morning, in my first day of class with 90 other students in the amphitheater classroom, our marketing professor confirmed it. "Look around the class today, because nine of you will not make it through the year." After the first week of classes I was convinced that I was the dumbest student in the school. I had never been around so much brain power in my life. I figured everybody was in the high-IQ Mensa association except for me.
My wife and I were newlyweds and were talking about having our first child. But I didn't want to start a family if I was about to get kicked out of Harvard. We agreed to wait and see if I survived the first semester before any earnest babymaking.
The next four months were pure hell. I had never studied so hard in my life and usually slept only fours a night. For the first time ever, I got a tutor. We had three or four case studies per day, each of which took up to three hours of preparation. They were about real-life business situations where we had to recommend solutions. In each class the professor started by randomly calling someone to present the case to the other 90 students for ten minutes. This was the "cold call" we all dreaded. A poor performance on a cold call could doom a student in the class. Nobody could be adequately prepared to present all three classes with equal quality, so we played the odds. You could hear a pin drop when a student was caught unprepared and whispered, "Pass." That brought a flunking grade and brought you closer to the screen.
I am happy to report that in February of 1986, after the first semester grades came out--we decided to start a family. I passed all my courses and even got the top 20% grade in my Organizational Behavior class. Our daughter Emily was born that November and she was in my arms as I walked across the stage to receive my MBA diploma in May of 1987.
Finally, in the third week of August, I got a call from the dean of admissions that I had been accepted into the Class of 1987 at the Harvard Business School (HBS). I was thrilled -- but scared to death. Sure, I was a summa cum laude from San Francisco State University, but this was a whole different league of academic rigor.
I'd read that the incoming students were in the top 1% in their high school and undergraduate classes, and were not used to failure. But many of us would fail at Harvard. Since HBS grades on a relative curve, the bottom 10% "hit the screen" after the first year of the two-year MBA program. "Hitting the screen" means you are asked to leave because 90% of your fellow students are smarter than you. That's quite a jolt to the ego when you've always been on top. There are only three grades at HBS: Excellent for the top 20%, Unsatisfactory for the bottom 10%, and Pass for the middle 70%.
On a bright September morning, in my first day of class with 90 other students in the amphitheater classroom, our marketing professor confirmed it. "Look around the class today, because nine of you will not make it through the year." After the first week of classes I was convinced that I was the dumbest student in the school. I had never been around so much brain power in my life. I figured everybody was in the high-IQ Mensa association except for me.
My wife and I were newlyweds and were talking about having our first child. But I didn't want to start a family if I was about to get kicked out of Harvard. We agreed to wait and see if I survived the first semester before any earnest babymaking.
The next four months were pure hell. I had never studied so hard in my life and usually slept only fours a night. For the first time ever, I got a tutor. We had three or four case studies per day, each of which took up to three hours of preparation. They were about real-life business situations where we had to recommend solutions. In each class the professor started by randomly calling someone to present the case to the other 90 students for ten minutes. This was the "cold call" we all dreaded. A poor performance on a cold call could doom a student in the class. Nobody could be adequately prepared to present all three classes with equal quality, so we played the odds. You could hear a pin drop when a student was caught unprepared and whispered, "Pass." That brought a flunking grade and brought you closer to the screen.
I am happy to report that in February of 1986, after the first semester grades came out--we decided to start a family. I passed all my courses and even got the top 20% grade in my Organizational Behavior class. Our daughter Emily was born that November and she was in my arms as I walked across the stage to receive my MBA diploma in May of 1987.
Book of Myself - Early Years - Education: One of my most memorable teachers in elementary school was:
Mrs. DeMars was my teacher in third grade, and I was in love. I was ten and she was about thirty-five. She was tall, blond and wore skirts just above her knees. I had an unbelievable crush on her.
She was married and had kids of her own, but I didn't care. I did everything I could to win her over. I washed the blackboards, took messages to the office, and helped tutor some of the slower kids in class. When I split my arm open by running into a glass door, she helped me treat the wound. When she held my arm to change the bandages, I got all woozy inside. I think she knew I was infatuated with her but she never said anything. I soaked up all the learning she could dish out.
She told me I could do anything I wanted when I grew up. The last day of school I told her that she was the best teacher ever. She whispered I was the best student ever. I'll never forget Mrs. DeMars.
She was married and had kids of her own, but I didn't care. I did everything I could to win her over. I washed the blackboards, took messages to the office, and helped tutor some of the slower kids in class. When I split my arm open by running into a glass door, she helped me treat the wound. When she held my arm to change the bandages, I got all woozy inside. I think she knew I was infatuated with her but she never said anything. I soaked up all the learning she could dish out.
She told me I could do anything I wanted when I grew up. The last day of school I told her that she was the best teacher ever. She whispered I was the best student ever. I'll never forget Mrs. DeMars.
Book of Myself - Early Years - Friends: My best friend during childhood was:
Mark P. was my best buddy. We grew up in Chicago but were both from the deep south. We were preachers' kids (PKs). I met Mark in first grade at six years old—and we are still close today. We went to the same elementary school and then split up for a while until high school. When we were seven, we ran away from home together, but were caught and returned to our parents. Mark saved my life when I was eight, and I returned the favor a few years later.
In ninth grade, while the Vietnam war raged nearby, we spent a year in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia without our parents. We got into so much trouble that we were ordered back to the States the next year. But it was a time of cultural and political awakening for both of us. We traveled to Thailand, Indonesia, Hong Kong, Japan and the Philippines by ourselves. We grew up a lot that year.
Mark and I were in different cities after that, until he visited me in San Francisco soon after I finished college in 1979. I was selling high fashion women's shoes at the time and invited him to join me in a Saturday blow-out sale at the Stonestown shopping center. The rest is history. Mark went on to became a great salesman, moving from shoes to TVs and stereos, and then from microcomputers to enterprise software. We worked at six companies together during our careers. Now he sells mortgages in Atlanta. Quite successfully. I remind him that he owes it all to me and those high fashion pumps.
I'm so glad to still have a close friend today who goes almost all the way back to the beginning of my life. He knows me like few others do—the good, the bad, and the ugly. And the trust runs deep.
In ninth grade, while the Vietnam war raged nearby, we spent a year in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia without our parents. We got into so much trouble that we were ordered back to the States the next year. But it was a time of cultural and political awakening for both of us. We traveled to Thailand, Indonesia, Hong Kong, Japan and the Philippines by ourselves. We grew up a lot that year.
Mark and I were in different cities after that, until he visited me in San Francisco soon after I finished college in 1979. I was selling high fashion women's shoes at the time and invited him to join me in a Saturday blow-out sale at the Stonestown shopping center. The rest is history. Mark went on to became a great salesman, moving from shoes to TVs and stereos, and then from microcomputers to enterprise software. We worked at six companies together during our careers. Now he sells mortgages in Atlanta. Quite successfully. I remind him that he owes it all to me and those high fashion pumps.
I'm so glad to still have a close friend today who goes almost all the way back to the beginning of my life. He knows me like few others do—the good, the bad, and the ugly. And the trust runs deep.
Book of Myself - Early Years - Family: If, growing up, I had any trouble with Dad, it was in this area:
My father had an infuriating way of disappearing into his own private place, where he couldn't hear a word I said, even when I stood right beside him. He was usually studying for a sermon or a lecture at his desk in my parents' bedroom. As a proud third grader, I rushed right up to his elbow after dinner to report on my news of the day. It always went the same way:
"Daddy?" No answer. "Daddy?"
"Mmm."
"I got an "Excellent" on my reading test today." No answer.
"Daddy."
"Mmm."
"Can you hear me?
"What is it, son?
"I was telling you about my good grade today."
"That's nice."
"Thanks Daddy, I'm going to bed now." No answer.
He didn't notice when I turned to leave. I always glanced back just in case. He never looked up. I backed out of the room both sad and peeved.
After a while I learned to catch him when he came in the apartment door or was in the bathroom shaving. His ears opened up during those moments and we talked, father and son. But I never tried to speak with him again when he sat at his desk with his important papers and underlines. That was his other world, where sons did not exist.
"Daddy?" No answer. "Daddy?"
"Mmm."
"I got an "Excellent" on my reading test today." No answer.
"Daddy."
"Mmm."
"Can you hear me?
"What is it, son?
"I was telling you about my good grade today."
"That's nice."
"Thanks Daddy, I'm going to bed now." No answer.
He didn't notice when I turned to leave. I always glanced back just in case. He never looked up. I backed out of the room both sad and peeved.
After a while I learned to catch him when he came in the apartment door or was in the bathroom shaving. His ears opened up during those moments and we talked, father and son. But I never tried to speak with him again when he sat at his desk with his important papers and underlines. That was his other world, where sons did not exist.
Book of Myself - Early Years - The World: Some of my favorite Hollywood actors and actresses were… I liked these qualities about them:
As I kid, I knew my favorite actors by their screen names. In most cases, I didn’t even know their real names. I grew up in a tough neighborhood and dreamed of getting out. When I watched TV, I transported myself to places with laughs, adventure, magic and super powers.
Granny of The Beverly Hillbillies, played by Irene Ryan. I liked her because she didn’t need to be like everybody else. No pretensions – just honest down home goodness. She knew who she was and let everybody know it. She was small but had a big personality, just like my Texan grandmother.
I liked Bob Denver first as the beatnik Maynard G. Krebs in The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis and then as Gilligan. He seemed so full of wonder and innocence. Not a mean bone in his body. The Howells and Ginger never corrupted him.
Superman, the TV show version with George Reeves, was my favorite show as a kid. I always wanted to fly and leap skyscrapers in a single bound. I loved how Superman always saved Lois Lane and cub reporter Jimmy Olsen. When I heard the actor had died, it made me realize that there were real life people behind my screen heroes.
Samantha of Bewitched was mesmerizing – Elizabeth Montgomery played the role with such grace and strength. I dreamed of having her magical twitch. She was too good for Darrin; he was lucky guy. Many years later, even the Academy Award winner Nicole Kidman, whom I also adore, could not hold a candle to Montgomery in playing Sam.
Deputy Barney Fife of The Andy Griffith Show, played by Don Knotts. He was a dope who got into lots of trouble because he was always in his own imaginary world, but he made me laugh. And I longed to live in a little town like Mayberry. I also liked him when he played a man who turned into a cartoon fish in The Incredible Mr. Limpet.
I had a crush on Barbara Eden of I Dream of Jeannie. I was a pre-teen in love. I just couldn’t take my eyes off her Arabian costume. I figured Captain Tony Nelson (Larry Hagman) must have been the luckiest man in the whole world. I loved it when she folded her arms and nodded her head to work her spells.
Col. Wilhelm Klink of Hogan’s Heroes, was my favorite guy to hate, but in a good way. The actor, Werner Kemperer, played Kink with such over-the-top schmaltziness that I enjoyed seeing him get bested by Hogan at the end of every episode. But strangely, sometimes I felt sorry for Klink, since he could never win, even the smallest battles.
Captain Kirk of Star Trek, the original 60s TV series – I never missed this show. I didn’t even know it was William Shatner, but I loved how Kirk always figured out a way to get out of trouble by the end of the show, and that he held his own against Mr. Spock, even though Spock had special Vulcan powers. Chalk another one up for the human race.
Granny of The Beverly Hillbillies, played by Irene Ryan. I liked her because she didn’t need to be like everybody else. No pretensions – just honest down home goodness. She knew who she was and let everybody know it. She was small but had a big personality, just like my Texan grandmother.
I liked Bob Denver first as the beatnik Maynard G. Krebs in The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis and then as Gilligan. He seemed so full of wonder and innocence. Not a mean bone in his body. The Howells and Ginger never corrupted him.
Superman, the TV show version with George Reeves, was my favorite show as a kid. I always wanted to fly and leap skyscrapers in a single bound. I loved how Superman always saved Lois Lane and cub reporter Jimmy Olsen. When I heard the actor had died, it made me realize that there were real life people behind my screen heroes.
Samantha of Bewitched was mesmerizing – Elizabeth Montgomery played the role with such grace and strength. I dreamed of having her magical twitch. She was too good for Darrin; he was lucky guy. Many years later, even the Academy Award winner Nicole Kidman, whom I also adore, could not hold a candle to Montgomery in playing Sam.
Deputy Barney Fife of The Andy Griffith Show, played by Don Knotts. He was a dope who got into lots of trouble because he was always in his own imaginary world, but he made me laugh. And I longed to live in a little town like Mayberry. I also liked him when he played a man who turned into a cartoon fish in The Incredible Mr. Limpet.
I had a crush on Barbara Eden of I Dream of Jeannie. I was a pre-teen in love. I just couldn’t take my eyes off her Arabian costume. I figured Captain Tony Nelson (Larry Hagman) must have been the luckiest man in the whole world. I loved it when she folded her arms and nodded her head to work her spells.
Col. Wilhelm Klink of Hogan’s Heroes, was my favorite guy to hate, but in a good way. The actor, Werner Kemperer, played Kink with such over-the-top schmaltziness that I enjoyed seeing him get bested by Hogan at the end of every episode. But strangely, sometimes I felt sorry for Klink, since he could never win, even the smallest battles.
Captain Kirk of Star Trek, the original 60s TV series – I never missed this show. I didn’t even know it was William Shatner, but I loved how Kirk always figured out a way to get out of trouble by the end of the show, and that he held his own against Mr. Spock, even though Spock had special Vulcan powers. Chalk another one up for the human race.
Book of Myself - Early Years - Family - One of Mom's traits I admired was:
Outgoing - Mom was, and still is, a natural born extrovert. As a shy kid growing up, I was always amazed watching my mother work a room of strangers. Within minutes she would be laughing with new acquaintances and making them feel at ease. Maybe it was her southern charm, she grew up in Texas, but socializing seemed to come so easy to her. As a young adult I asked her to teach me how she did it. She responded that she didn’t know how to teach it, that it just came to her. Nevertheless, I watched an copied. I learned as much as I could from her, and as an adult I can now “turn on” my extrovert switch when I need to, but I can never match the grace and confidence she radiates when meeting new people.
Expert shopper - Mom had a sixth sense for it. My Dad was a Methodist minister with a small stipend. With six mouths to feed, money was tight. Nevertheless, Mom always found a way to get us kids new clothes and supplies before school started, and always had enough left over for our Christmas wish list. I was an active kid and went though pants and shoes like a meat grinder. She loved to take us to the Sears headquarters store on the West Side of Chicago. When we arrived home with stuffed shopping bags, Dad got mad and told her we couldn’t afford all the things she bought us. But I always remember having fresh clothes and sneakers every September. Thanks Mom.
Expert shopper - Mom had a sixth sense for it. My Dad was a Methodist minister with a small stipend. With six mouths to feed, money was tight. Nevertheless, Mom always found a way to get us kids new clothes and supplies before school started, and always had enough left over for our Christmas wish list. I was an active kid and went though pants and shoes like a meat grinder. She loved to take us to the Sears headquarters store on the West Side of Chicago. When we arrived home with stuffed shopping bags, Dad got mad and told her we couldn’t afford all the things she bought us. But I always remember having fresh clothes and sneakers every September. Thanks Mom.
Friday, April 14, 2006
THE BOOK OF MYSELF
I am writing my own content into an evolving electronic version of THE BOOK OF MYSELF - A DO-IT-YOURSELF AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN 201 QUESTIONS, on Gather.com as a Gather Group and offering some content on my Amazon.com blog as well. This Hyperion (Disney imprint) family storytelling journal book has sold 250,000 copies since 1997. The book is in three major sections: Early Years, Middle Years, and Later Years. Each section has questions about Family, Friends, Education, Work/Responsibilities, and the World.
Starting today, I will also be providing content on this Google blog. There are 201 questions and I will try to provide a new question and answer each week.
For other views:
The Book of Myself Gather Group: http://www.gather.com/viewGroup.jsp?grpId=3659174697238625
You can share your own answers to my questions on this Gather Group as well.
The Book of Myself Amazon blog: http://www.amazon.com/gp/pdp/profile/A12AOHR0E16Y25/ref=cm_blog_dp_pdp/103-0972117-4502212
Our Marshall Books website: www.marshallbooks.net
Let me know what you think,
David Marshall
Moraga, California
Starting today, I will also be providing content on this Google blog. There are 201 questions and I will try to provide a new question and answer each week.
For other views:
The Book of Myself Gather Group: http://www.gather.com/viewGroup.jsp?grpId=3659174697238625
You can share your own answers to my questions on this Gather Group as well.
The Book of Myself Amazon blog: http://www.amazon.com/gp/pdp/profile/A12AOHR0E16Y25/ref=cm_blog_dp_pdp/103-0972117-4502212
Our Marshall Books website: www.marshallbooks.net
Let me know what you think,
David Marshall
Moraga, California
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