Sammy and Me - A Tribute

 

My high school boyfriend, Sammy Johnson, died on June 10.  This morning, I wrote down some memories.  Good memories. 

Sammy and Me

With my eyes closed, I try to remember the summer of 1965.  I was 14 years old and worked at my mom’s beauty shop during the summer.  She would let me leave early each day as things began to slow down some and I would walk to my favorite summer hangout spot – the Recreation Department on Fair Road.  There we would sit on the tables and talk and see what kind of adventures we might have together.  Sammy Johnson lived close by at the time and would ride up on his motorcycle.  And of course, I asked for a ride.  I climbed on the back, put my hands around his waist and off we rode.  And we kept on riding.  I liked it and I liked Sammy.  Sammy had no driver’s license at the time – but the cops seemed to let folks by if they looked old enough – or if they knew who your parents were.  My dad thought that I really liked motorcycles so bought me a little Honda of my own.  I, too, rode without a license following Sammy and his little gang all over town.  We would ride up to the top of Joe Hodges Hill – then turn around and speed down.  It’s a wonder that any of us lived through that summer, but we did.  What Daddy came to realize, though, was that it wasn’t just motorcycles that I liked – I liked being with Sammy.  We started school that fall and I was thrilled to cheer for him from the stands every Friday night.  When the offense was on the field, we would yell, “Run, Johnny run” – cheering on my neighbor, Johnny Cobb.  And when the defense came on the field, we yelled, “Kill Sammy Kill!”  Yes, we did.  And Sammy would knock those players down so hard, many had to have help getting back up.  The football players were given these little silver footballs on necklaces and Sammy gave me his.  That was better than a ring or bracelet.  It was something that was hard earned and had meaning behind it.  And I wore it proudly.  We didn’t just play hard that year though.  We studied hard as well.  We took drivers training together from Mr. Carr at Georgia Southern.  And more importantly, we were study partners for biology.  Sammy didn’t do well at all the first six weeks, so I invited him to start studying with me.  We would go down in the playroom at my house in Woodrow Avenue to study.  That room was converted to a playroom with a pool table after my mom moved her beauty shop downstairs.  We studied just about every night.  And since it was a playroom – well, we played a little as well.  That study partnership made a difference with both of us.  Sammy gives me credit for teaching him how to study and I give that situation credit for preparing me to be a good teacher. 

On the weekends, though, we rode those motorcycles.  I really preferred riding with him to riding on my own.  We would ride fast  -- especially when we went out to his family’s farm.  And then he would stop on some hidden roads and we would make out on the motorcycle.  It was a good place to do that because there’s only so much you can do on a motorcycle.  It never went any further. 

Being Sammy’s girl was thrilling.  It gave me the confidence to quit pledging the JTJ’s (a high school sorority that didn’t match who I was meant to be.)  But eventually, I began to realize that my association with Sammy was limiting my possibilities for other friendships.  Boys wouldn’t even talk to me in the hall.  If I’d come along they’d say, “Get away from me, you’re Sammy’s girl.”  I liked Sammy – a lot.  But I was not the type of girl to “BELONG” to anyone.  So, one night I gave him back his necklace.  Sometimes I regretted it, but we really were not going to make it.  We remained friends though, and both enjoyed cheering the Georgia Southern Eagles on to victory for many years.  He will always have a special place in my heart.  Ride, Sammy, Ride!