JAMESTOWN, New York - Parachute jumping (which morphed into sky diving somewhere since the late 1960s) wasn't a real popular activity among the members of the Class of '66, except for one fellow, Bob Fulcher, whose dad, Richard Page, was a serious jumper.
One of his buddies was named Taige Grant (though the spelling on Taige might be incorrect) and Taige, a wild man by all accounts and by observation, was married to the lovely blonde lady in the center of this photo: Miss Grant.
We (Bob, Bud Hooper and I) would occasionally catch a glimpse of Miss Grant at the airstrip, where Taige would be going up in a small plane to bail out of. Once he jumped and fell and fell and fell, finally triggering his emergency chute so close to the ground that he left big footprints when he hit the earth - hard. It was the first time I had ever seen a bunch of adults actually terrified. It terrified me to see them so frightened.
Miss Grant was part of the Home Economics faculty, an odd corner of our high school lives, because it was years before any sane Southwestern male would voluntarily take a Home Ec course - despite the obvious fascinations of being close to Miss Grant. No, Home Ec was an island, like shop classes, while we studied some lofty college prep courses. As I wrenched on my diesel today, I think taking shop might have been a very good idea.
Perhaps it also might have been better had every male in the Class of '66 been required to learning how to cook, clean and (gasp!) sew - at least a little.
And we could have learned from Miss Grant without having to impress her by diving out of an airplane 5,000 feet above a runway.
'Oh Miss Grant! Miss Grant? Could you check my souffle? It seems to have fallen.'
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