RICKY ADAMS

Super Bowl Sunday.            

It’s Miller time.

Hopefully, you didn’t over-indulge during the last week and since the “BIG Day” has come and gone again, maybe we can settle in for some late-winter activities like we used to celebrate in the City School lunchroom in the 1950’s.

The fine ladies who fed us lunch always baked pans of cherry cobbler when we honored George Washington’s birthday on Feb. 22, an event we anticipated for weeks.

On those days, if we had vegetable soup, Nabisco saltine four-packs, pimento cheese sandwiches, Paschal’s Dairy sweet milk and cobbler, we quietly hollered “Hidey ho!”

Lunchroom manager, Mrs. Myrtle Miller, like her nephew, Mike, was an early House of Adams’ hero.

Mike Miller, four grades older than your scribe, always chose this skinny kid with the big head to play in neighborhood baseball and football games, contested on grounds of the former Peanut Stadium or on the then-vacant lot across Ouida Street from “Miss Jean” Farris’s house.

When news of Mike’s death last month reached here, endless childhood memories, all pleasant now, bounded back, and years melted away like so much lunchroom butter.

Events creating those memories came several years before Super Bowl I was played in Los Angeles, Jan. 15, 1967, a 35-10 Green Bay Packers win over Kansas City’s Chiefs.

Another Sunday afternoon, in our other sport, we neighborhood studs were in the top of the first inning when lightning struck a transformer atop a pole at the corner of Dothan Highway and Ouida Street, sending a collosal fireball blazing right for us on a powerline seemingly much too close to the ground during the heartbeat it took us to scatter to our respective homes.

Can’t recall the exact Sunday lightning liked unto have got us, except to say it was the first day of the rest of our lives that’ve included a bunch of days designated Feb. 10, a “BIG Day” before we came along, for example, in 1940, when Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood,” became his first No. 1 hit.

Throughout the 1960s, Enterprise High School’s Wildcat Marching Band, directed by the late Bob McMillan, played that crowd-pleasing tune; most of us learned it in eighth grade at Enterprise Junior High, but didn’t dare join those juniors and seniors who played it informally warming up in the band room before home football games.

On Feb. 10, 1942, Glenn’s “Chattanooga Choo-Choo,” after topping one million sales, became the first-ever Gold Record.

Two familiar musical artists were born on Feb. 10: Don Wilson, a Ventures’ guitarist, in 1937, and singer Roberta Flack in 1939.

 Roberta sang on all her records, but Don played on few of his group’s many songs; that was true for all the Ventures … and for the Beach Boys as well.

Check out the documentary, “The Wrecking Crew,” for confirmation.

Hmmm.

Where were we?

Oh, unlike Super Bowl I, there were more than Three Stooges in Atlanta for Super Bowl LIII’s halftime gala, but Sunday wasn’t the “BIG Day” mentioned in today’s third sentence.

Nope, the real “BIG Day” was Wednesday, Feb. 6, Babe Ruth’s 124th birthday, celebrated, as always, with a hotdog feast in the HoA; this year we snarfed down authentic Fenway Franks.

Chokin’ down three w/mustard and onions, was no problem.

Wish Mike could’ve been here.

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