My family lived near Lubbock, Texas, from 1963 to 1967. Dad was a sergeant in the Air Force—owning a Gulf service station at the same time. A young officer by the name of, Lieutenant Snyder, played a key role in this unusual, off-base endeavor. I no longer remember the lieutenant’s first name nor does my brother.
Snyder was a silent partner so to speak. The tall, redheaded lieutenant was single, and during holidays, invited by my parents to eat at our small trailer home, located on Reese A.F.B., next to the flight line. He was like a big brother to Jim and me. I still have an 8mm movie of him tossing a ball in the yard to “Brutus & Ringo,” our little Dachshund and Chihuahua dogs. During summer months, Mr. Snyder took us boys swimming at the base pool.
Monday through Friday, after Dad’s military duty ended at 4:30, my father drove to the gas station and remained there until closing at 10:00. Jim and I sometimes stayed up late waiting for him, and then sorted through his well-worn bank bag looking for old coins. On occasion, a customer was desperate enough to use an actual Morgan or Peace style silver dollar for gas. I still recall that rectangular zipper-bag smelling of fuel and oil.
Lieutenant Snyder was Dad’s immediate supervisor, as well as being a close friend. I’ve never been in the service myself, yet I’m fairly certain officers fraternizing with enlisted men goes against military regulations. It’s surprising to me that some Karen didn’t snitch and turn them both in to the base commander. In later years, Mom told me that Lieutenant Snyder’s parents were wealthy, and they helped bankroll Dad’s operation.
About once a month, Mom, Jim, and I loaded in the car on a Saturday, and stopped by Whataburger on our way to the garage. The hamburgers there were so large that my brother and I split one. Dad was always happy to get his burger, fries, and Coke, considering them a real treat. He was basically working 12-hour-days during those three years in Lubbock.
Whataburger’s were a real treat to us as well. Unlike today, when restaurant food replaces meal-fixing, perhaps two or three times a week, we ate out at the most once a month back then, if even that much. With some food establishments around town starting to rob folks by charging extra credit card fees, Joleen and I may be forced to limit our dining out to once a month, much like my folks did in the 1960s. I’ve heard other seniors echo the same.
Mosquitoes were bad during Lubbock summers, with Air Force personnel using a fogging truck to spray insecticide throughout the base. Parents were told beforehand to keep their children indoors, yet sometimes that warning went unheeded. We didn’t find out until later that the pesticide they used was DDT. This chemical was deemed detrimental to birds and wildlife, but my brother and I seemed to escape breathing it without any genetic or physical disorders. Friends might disagree.
Near the Reese flight line was a large field, home to a prairie dog town. We played baseball there and quite often the ball rolled into a burrow. That was always the scary part—reaching in a hole to retrieve it.
One thing that living in Lubbock has in common with Lake Havasu City, is the wind and dust. Red dust covered furniture after a windstorm and it was us boy’s job to wipe it off. Amble mounts of Pledge helped glue the residue to a cleaning rag. Nothing has changed here for me.
After leaving Lubbock, I’m not sure what happened to the good lieutenant. I remember Dad and Mom getting a few Christmas cards from him. Eventually, all correspondence stopped. Undoubtedly, he married and had children of his own, hopefully, rising above the rank of lieutenant before retiring. Our old friend would be in his early 80s at this point.
I often think back to Lubbock, Lieutenant Snyder, DDT, Whataburger, and “what a life” my family experienced living on a now shuttered Air Force base, near a dusty, Texas, town, dodging baseball-sized-hail, lightning storms, and sudden tornadoes quite regularly. Without question, that exact experience for me or anyone else will never be duplicated.
I like to write junk... 