Living History

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Living History

Glimpses of biography and autobiography

Editor's Note: "Living History" (dual meaning intended) is the column title for biography/autobiography pieces.

Tex and the Bicycle is the first.

Battles and catastrophes, kings, presidents and dictators are featured in the history books, but history is more than disasters and 'big' names. Some of the most interesting history will never make it into the textbooks. Diaries, autobiographies and biographies give us more of the intriguing details omitted from the history books. They also provide invaluable backgound for fiction writers.

Hidden away in our own, our families', our neighbors' memories are many treasures of 20th Century history. This month we present Tex and the Bicycle by Pamela Mary Baker, a special glimpse of Living History.

Tex and the Bicycle

Author Pamela Mary Baker was born in England 1938. She has lived in the USA since 1957 and now resides in Robles Junction Arizona. Pamela has a son and three grandchildren Sarah, Holly, and Ian.

Preface

In preparation for the Invasion of Europe, the Allied Forces started a troop build up throughout the British Isles during the spring of 1944. My mother worked in a small restaurant which, being close to the main transportation depots and the cinema, was a favorite coffee spot for many of these Servicemen. Separated from friends and families and aware of the fighting to come, many of these men "adopted" English families. This is a story of one of these Blessed Souls.

Tex and the Bicycle
By
Pamela M. Baker

I met Tex in the spring of Nineteen-Forty-Four. He sat at the table next to me in the restaurant where my mum worked. He was a tall lanky fellow with bright blue smiling eyes. I stared at him. I'd never seen an American solder up close before.

"Hi, what is your name?" he asked.

"Pamela Mary," I whispered, shy and not used to adults addressing me directly.

"That's a real pretty name. I'm Tex." He held out his hand. I reached out, but instead of shaking my hand he lifted it to his mouth and kissed it.

"It's an honor to meet you, Miss Pamela Mary." I wanted to die of embarrassment, but Tex had a kind and gentle manner and, despite the difference in our age, (Tex was eighteen and I almost six), I was in love.

Whenever Tex got a pass, he rode to town on a rusty girl's bicycle. My birthday came a few weeks later, and I begged my mother to let him come to our house for tea.

Finally, tired of my pleading, she said, "There's no extra food Mary. We have nothing to feed him."

"Mum said you can't come for my birthday 'cause we don't have enough to feed you," I told Tex. I remember the look on his face as he realized we did not have the things he took for granted. He was quiet for a long time.

"What do you want for your birthday, Little Sister?" That's what he'd started to call me.

"I want to learn how to ride a two-wheeled bike, and I want you to come to tea," I answered.

"I'll be there, Little Sister, I promise. You tell your mom not to worry. Tex will take care of everything."

I got out of school on my birthday to find Tex standing outside the fence with his bicycle. True to his promise, he was going to teach me how to ride a two-wheeler. First, though, we had to find a flat spot. He sat me up on the handlebars while he peddled the bike. He had lowered the seat and his knees almost came to his chin as we wobbled back and forth. I gripped the handlebars tightly as we made the turn and went whizzing down Mill Road hill. Tex laughed and I squealed with delight.

When we got to the bottom of the hill, Tex rolled the bike to a stop.

"OK, Little Sister, now it's your turn." He lifted me onto the saddle. "You steer and I'll hold you up."

The front wheel of the bike would not stay straight, and even with the saddle lowered, my feet barely reached the pedals.

"Don't let go!" I said, afraid I'd fall off. We almost crashed when I turned around to see if he was still holding on.

"Don't turn around, just watch where you're going."

He ran along beside the bike, which was easier to steer as it went faster. It wasn't until he yelled, "Put the brakes on, Little Sister," that I realized I was riding alone. I squeezed the brakes as hard and promptly fell off.

"Are you all right, Sis?" Tex called as he ran over to me.

"Oh yes, Tex. Did you see I rode it all by myself?"

He picked up the bike and helped me get back on. We turned toward my house.

"You can't come in." I told him.

"It's OK," he said." Everything's taken care of."

We went inside. I could not believe my eyes. My cousins were there and the best tablecloth was on the table. The good china tea service, which I had never seen out of the cupboard before, had been washed and set out. Even the best knives and forks, usually hidden away in a box, were laid out. There were pull crackers with paper hats and prizes inside, but what I could not believe was the food. There were Spam® and sardine sandwiches, real eggs, hard-boiled, glasses of milk made from powder, enough for us all. After we ate our sandwiches, Tex went into the kitchen. He returned a few moments later with the most beautiful cake I had ever seen. It had pink icing and seven green candles on it.

"One for each year and one to grow on," Tex said.

I never knew how he talked the cook on the base into baking that cake. It wasn't something I thought about back then. All I knew was it was the best birthday I'd ever had.

Tex did not get to town much after that, but one afternoon he came riding along the street. His bike was all polished and shining, and all the rust spots were gone.

"Hey, Little Sister," he said as he picked me up and hugged me. "How would you like to have my bike?"

A two- wheeled bike was something I had only dreamed of. I spent the next hour riding it back and forth in front of the restaurant. When I went in for a drink, everyone was crying, including Tex.

"You can have your bike back," I told him when I saw how sad he was.

"No, Little Sister, it's yours."

When mum and I left for home, Tex picked me up and gave me a big bear hug and said, "Goodbye, Sis", instead of his usual, "So long, see you later."

During that first week of June, it rained so much I could hardly get out to ride my new bike. Suddenly most of the American soldiers disappeared. Tex went with them to a beach they called Omaha. He never came back.