Leaving On a Jet Plane

I don't live in the past, but I did enjoy it while I was there. I have great memories of growing up, fond memories of most of the people I've known and places I've been, even if some things didn't turn out quite the way I had hoped. I loved school, and out of fifteen years of formal education, there are two years that stand out above the rest as my favorites.

The first was my Sixth Grade year spent at Skellytown Elementary in, you guessed it, Skellytown, Texas. Skellytown wasn't much of a town then, just like it's not much of a town now. Never more than 1000 people living there at anytime, most of the time far less. And for some reason, 1984 was one of the far less years if the size of my class was any indication. There were only ten of us, and I can name them all and recount memories about them all.

It was a great year for me for several reasons. A new teacher (who was really just returning to our school in a different capacity) was our home room teacher. She was young and hip and wanted us to like her, and we did--most of the time. :) That was also the year that the demands of Athletics and Social Studies outgrew the Coach who usually taught those classes, and the school drafted our favorite English teacher to pick up a World History class...ours.

Most of the ten of us had spent years growing up together in our little school, and I seem to remember we were pretty tight, for the most part. You know how it is...playground politics and all. But we did some really cool stuff that year.

For instance, under the direction of our very cool home room teacher, we started a fan club for a very young and promising child singer named Amber Pennington...who sang the most tear-jerking song about a dog named Little Andy.

We conspired to leave the school secretary notes from "a secret admirer" slathered in old spice deodorant...and after several days of that, we threw an impromptu surprise party for her just because we thought she was cool. That surprise party, by the way, was one of several that we threw for ourselves, usually preempting one class or another...and we had teachers who would almost always go along with it.

We performed as a class in the White Deer High School annual talent show...singing first "Old McDonald Had a Farm", dressed in overalls, and with one of our classmates making animal noises with a guitar; and secondly "When the Saints Go Marching In", complete with trumpet, saxophone, clarinet, tambourine, and everyone dressed up in old-timey church clothes. It was great!

I seem to recall that we also had our first movie party (remember kids, this was in the EARLY days of home video viewing; the Video Cassette Recorder/Player was a relatively recent invention) at someone's house out in the country. We watched Man from Snowy River, which to this day remains one of my favorite movies.

But one thing that has stuck with me for a very long time, and probably always will. Our home room teacher played the guitar and sang, and our English/History teacher also sang, and I'll never forget one classtime when the two of them got together and started singing songs from the 60s and 70s...including one that had the most beautiful and haunting harmonies I've ever heard. They sang "Leaving on a Jet Plane." It would be years before I knew who Peter, Paul & Mary were, but for me, Brenda Dahl and Caren Kensing had the better performance. Wish I had THAT on video!

Now every time I fly, or even leave someone special, I can't help but sing the words I remember so fondly:

All my bags are packed

I'm ready to go

I'm standing here outside your door

I hate to wake you up to say goodbye

But the dawn is breaking

it's early morn

Taxi's waiting, he's blowing his horn

already I'm so lonesome I could cry

So kiss me and smile for me

tell me that you'll wait for me

hold me like you'll never let me go!

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane

don't know when I'll be back again

Oh Babe, I hate to go