Then when they saw I was there to stay, they seemed to want to help me get on through. From then on, things got easier. Finally I graduated and went out to face the same world that I had been facing for 55 years, only this time I had the diploma which caused adults to look up to me and kids to look down on me. My first year of teaching was in a 21-teacher school in Farmington, Arkansas. Enough interesting things took place there that year to fill a good size book. In September of 1961 I began teaching 6th grade in an Indian School on the Navaho Indian Reservation near Winslow, Arizona. I taught there at Leupp just six weeks. Then I resigned my position and moved to San Angelo, Texas, because of Ima's health. There I spent my first year teaching Wood Shop at Lee Junior High School. And I taught nine years in Special Education. At age 65 San Angelo Schools retired me. I could have gone on and taught in some other town, but who wants to teach when he can retire and loaf? Not me. So, I retired and loafed. Ima and I bought a travel trailer and did more than our share of traveling the next two-and-a-half years. In fact, we traveled so much that the nation began to run short of gasoline. It doubled in price and we thought we ought to slow down and let some others do some traveling also. Now, all I have to do is sit around and write and let you know what I have been doing these past 72 years. Since I have retired, I have a lot of time to loaf and sit and think. At first it hurt my conscience to loaf; I had to force myself to sit down, and I still find it difficult to think. But I am having a wonderful time since I have learned to look at life from a different angle. When I was young my parents took me to Sunday School and Church. They taught me that it was good to keep the Sabbath, respect the preacher, honor my father and my mother, and be kind to others. I knew I was good because I did all those things. But, as I became older, I began to feel that something was wrong. Life was passing me by. Church had lost its charm. When the preacher preached hellfire and brimstone to sinners, I felt left out. I knew he wasn't preaching to me because I was good, and had been all my life. I put my dollar in the collection plate only to feel that I had been cheated--not getting my money's worth, always listening to sermons preached to bad people. But now I'm happy again. I have changed my entire life style-- what I do, what I think, and what I say. Now I make it a point to insult someone, cheat someone, lie to someone, be mean to someone at least once each week. Now the preacher is back on speaking terms with me. He preaches directly to me every Sunday. I give my dollar to the church and come away with the feeling that I have gotten more than my money's worth. It's a good feeling. EPILOGUE Clarence Johnson -- January 11, 1906 -- November 9, 1994