Dad was a West Texas farm boy, a brilliant guy who was one of
those for whom his particular school setting never caught his fancy. Mischief was much more interesting. His apparent undoing in McCauley (population
300, close to the 2,000-person metropolis of Hamlin, close in turn to Abilene) High
School was when Marvin Lockwood Davison and his friend Johnny took advantage of
the principal’s trip to a portable outhouse while they were on the school yard: They turned that delicate facility over on
its side. This sent both boys to Hamlin
High, from which they graduated in 1937.
Dad went to Texas Tech in Lubbock for a semester, then transferred and
eventually graduated in 1941, by which time he had married Betty Jo Geer and had
escaped overseas duty in World War II by gaining appointment as a chief petty
officer who trained servicemen at the naval base in Great Lakes, Illinois.
Betty Jo Geer Davison was by contrast to Dad a stellar student at
McKinney (30 miles north of Dallas, for many years a town of 16,000 that now is
a huge exurb of Big D) High School. She
once remarked,
“Oh, how I cried when I got my first ‘B’---
actually, a ‘B-Plus.’”
To which Dad replied, “Yeah, I cried when I got my first “B,” too.
Such humor was a hallmark of our family. And the greatest radiator of joy was Etta Marguerite
Mayhew Geer, Mom’s mom. Her husband left
her and Betty when Mom was only seven years old. Marguerite (Nanno) worked the floor at a
dress shop while she and Mom took residence in the old family homestead; Nanno soon began attending classes at North
Texas State University (now the University of North Texas), got her degree in
elementary education, and taught for many years in the McKinney school
system. She started out in a middle
class community but eventually--- I
learned only well into my adult years---
asked for transfer to the East Ward, where a heavily Hispanic community
sent many an impoverished child to J. W. Webb Elementary.
Mom and Dad met at North Texas, spent four years at Great Lakes,
returned to Texas, and lived for awhile at Mom’s family homestead in McKinney. Dad worked in a shoe store while applying for
jobs on the strength of his business degree;
he took an offer from Southwestern Bell Telephone Company. Mom and Dad moved to Dallas and were most
often stationed there, albeit with a brief stint in Tyler (Texas) and two years
in San Antonio, until we moved to St. Louis in 1961. I was born Gary Marvin Davison on 7 September
1951; sister Betty Jan Davison was born
on 8 January 1954.
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Mom worked as a secretary for Sun Oil company until I was born. Dad started out very humbly as a service
representative. He rose through the
ranks to Division Manager of the Commercial Department of Southwestern Bell, a middle
ranking but high profile public position that landed him on many local boards. Dad was an avid reader of the Dallas Morning News and the now-defunct Dallas Times Herald, but unlike
ever-reading Betty never to my knowledge read a whole book. He was a people person, a keen wit, and an
astute judge of character. He could
predict that a certain flaw would catch up with a person, derailing personal
and professional life.
Marvin was the best decision-maker I have ever known. He declared that one can make just as good or
bad a decision three weeks hence as now if the evidence is not likely to
change--- so best go ahead and make the
decision, then later make adjustments as necessary. This insight was among Dad’s greatest gifts
to me.
Dad continued to rise through the ranks, topping out at General
Commercial Manager with a stint in Little Rock and then for many years at the
much larger district surrounding and encompassing Houston.
By the time we settled in at Overcup Drive in the Memorial area,
we had risen as a family from lower to middle to upper middle class
status; while featuring some student family
income variance, this status was that which typified the student body at
Memorial High School.
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I went through my adolescent years at grades 9 through 12 with
little angst, ever-increasing confidence, and fierce independence. Drugs were scant but alcohol was in use among
sectors of the student population, notably evident to me by my senior
year. I loved to dance and was dating by
my sophomore year, but social pressure had the opposite of the typical effect
on me. Although actually fairly popular,
I was a huge fan of a David McGavin television show called “The Outsider” and
embraced such an identity; I turned down
any offers of alcohol and resisted any suggestions to do dumb adolescent
stuff. I remained forever a teetotaler,
not so much in aversion to alcohol (although I do bristle when someone gets too
close with the telltale breath) as a matter of social stubbornness.
Those epiphanies at Grade 5 abided.
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