Douglas Kenyon

 From September 1950 (kindergarten) until December 1956 (first half of the sixth grade) I attended the Fitzhugh Park School located at East Tenth and Bridge Streets in Oswego, NY.  For the first year, my 12 year-old brother Paul walked me home from school.  

Afterwards, I (at 6 years of age) walked by myself the six blocks to East Fourth Street.  Then, after crossing East Bridge Street, I would meander through the East Side Park to our house at the corner of East Third and Oneida Streets.

I would walk back and forth twice a day as I joined the rest of my family (parents and two brothers) for lunch at home and then returned to school for the afternoon session.

Once, my mother asked me if I looked both ways before I crossed the busy East Bridge Street.  After thinking about it, I responded, "I don't remember crossing East Bridge Street."  But, I had to have crossed it.

Sometimes I started walking home from school with my friend Douglas Kenyon.  There are two things I remember about him.  One was that his body produced an excessive amount of saliva.  Why?  I don't know.

The other was one time when we arrived at Douglas' house a few blocks from school.  His father, the Reverend Kenyon, took the two of us in his car and drove me the rest of the way home.  I remember sitting by the passenger side door with Douglas in the middle next to his father.

All was quiet until we arrived in front of my house.  Then Reverend Kenyon launched into about a ten minute sermon about how I, a Jewish boy, had to accept Jesus Christ as my savior or I would be damned to hell for eternity, no matter how good a person I was.  

He didn't frighten me as much as I feared my mother's reaction to being late for lunch.  I was too polite to leave the car before Reverend Kenyon finished.  

My brother Paul came out to the car and asked what was the delay.  I told him I would be in soon.  Reverend Kenyon paid him no mind.

Finally, Reverend Kenyon finished and I left the car.  I didn't mention to my family what had just happened.

I lost touch with Douglas soon after as his father was assigned to a church in another town.  But, I never forgot the time we were all together in that car parked in front of 30 East Oneida Street.