Fort Knox, Kentucky, Summer of 1972
The summer of 1972 was the most memorable summer of my childhood. I think of it as my coming-of-age summer. Dad had returned from a tour in Vietnam and was stationed at Fort Knox, Kentucky, where we lived in the Prichard Place housing area.
Once again, I was surrounded by other Army dependents, also known as Army brats, and living in military housing, something I was very familiar with during my childhood. It was great feeling “at home” again. Army kids knew what it was like to move often, leave friends behind and start over somewhere new. Because of that, we were usually pretty accepting of the new kids who came into the housing area or showed up at school.
That summer was an age of innocence and self-discovery. It felt like a new world was opening up for me. There were new friendships, new feelings and a new sense of freedom. Much of that freedom wasn’t just about what I was able to do, but what was happening within my own thoughts. I was beginning to discover things for myself and, without realizing it at the time, beginning to discover myself.
Teenagers, and sometimes younger children, would hang around the grassy corner near our apartment building. That was where I met my best friend, Pam, who was visiting her sister for the summer. Her sister and family lived right around the corner from us, in a building perpendicular to ours.
Pam and I quickly became friends and spent a lot of that summer together. We hung around the housing area and sometimes had sleepovers. Her niece and nephews and my two-year-old sister were often around us. Even though Pam was only visiting her sister for the summer, our friendship became an important part of what made that summer so special to me.
My brother, Glenn, was of driving age, which gave us a little more freedom to get around. One night, Glenn took Pam and me to a fair. I remember “Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress” by the Hollies playing on the radio that night.
Before long, we each had a boyfriend. Pam’s boyfriend was Sam, and my boyfriend was Ric, who lived in the building behind ours. He was my first boyfriend and became a big part of my memories of that summer. The four of us often hung around together, sometimes with John, Freddie, Theresa, Irene, Roy and many of the other kids from the housing area.
On the corner lot was an oak tree where we often hung out. Once our morning chores were finished, many of us would spend much of the day there, except for mealtimes, sometimes staying until close to nightfall. We sat under the tree talking, laughing and horsing around, and yes, there was some kissing going on under that oak tree, which became known as the Kissing Tree.
Ric sometimes brought his guitar out to the Kissing Tree. I remember him playing “Love Is All Around” by the Troggs and trying to show me a few chords, without much luck. Over the years, I have learned that the only musical instrument I can play is the stereo—or, in today’s world, telling Alexa to play music.
One special memory is of an evening when I was upstairs in my bedroom listening to my Guess Who album. I heard little rocks hitting my window and looked outside. It was Ric, tossing rocks up at my window to get my attention.
Behind our buildings was a playground where many of the younger children played, although sometimes the teenagers took a turn on the playground too. There really wasn’t much we needed to entertain ourselves. Between the playground, the Kissing Tree and simply having friends around, we always seemed to find something to do.
Our housing area also had a chapel and a small Post Exchange, or PX. We often walked to the PX for candy or snacks. Ric and I sometimes walked hand in hand to the chapel for Sunday Mass, another one of those simple memories that has stayed with me all these years.
Across Highway 31 West from Prichard Place was the United States Bullion Depository, better known as the Gold Vault. One day Ric, Pam and I decided we wanted to get closer to it so we could take a picture. We crossed the highway and headed toward it, but the closer we got, the more scared I became, so we retreated. Ric managed to get a picture of it before turning back, although unfortunately I no longer have it.
Music was a big part of that summer. I loved Chicago, and Pam had the Chicago II album and gave it to me. I remember watching Looking Glass perform “Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl)” on American Bandstand. I had already heard the song on the radio, but I loved seeing the band perform it.
Those songs became connected to people and moments from that summer. “Saturday in the Park” by Chicago, “Brandy,” “Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress” and so many others can still take me back to Fort Knox. Over the years, many of the ringtones I have used on my smartphone have been those songs or others from the 1972 era.
It was also during my time at Prichard Place that I began thinking about what I might want to do when I became an adult. At the time, I could see journalism, photography or social work somewhere in my future. Looking back, I can see that this was another part of why I think of that time as my coming-of-age summer. I was having fun and enjoying being a teenager, but I was also beginning to think about who I might become.
When summer ended and school started, things changed for all of us, but that summer has always stayed with me.
Many years later, Pam and I reconnected, and we have visited in person several times. During our last visit, I was also able to visit with her niece and brother-in-law, who had been our neighbors at Fort Knox. Ric and I also reconnected many years later, giving us the opportunity to remember some of the people and experiences we shared during that special summer.
In 2018, my husband and I visited Fort Knox. The chapel was still there at Prichard Place, but the little PX was gone. The apartment buildings where we had lived had also been demolished and replaced with houses and duplex-style housing. It was different from the Prichard Place I remembered, but it was special to be there again and see some of the places that had been part of my life.
The Kissing Tree is no longer there, but that tree and the summer of 1972 will always be near and dear to me. My memories aren’t just about the things that happened that summer. They are about how that summer made me feel—the friendships, the freedom, the excitement of new discoveries and the beginning of discovering myself. More than fifty years later, those memories can still bring some of that feeling back and make me smile.
