In the 50s, there were several heroes for children. We had Gene Autry, Hopalong Cassidy and the Lone Ranger and Tonto. But my favorites were Roy Rogers and his wife, Dale Evans, the stars of a TV show that I, like other children around the country, adored. Roy Rogers was, without a doubt in this youngster’s mind, the “King of the Cowboys”, and he was my hero. He was a straight shootin’ man, one who wore a white hat. In the series, Roy rode his horse, Trigger, and Dale rode Buttermilk. Roy’s sidekick, Pat Brady, had a faithful German shepherd name Bullet and a cranky Jeep he called Nellybelle. Roy pursued law and order. Through the magic of TV, the entire cast entered the homes of those who were fortunate enough to have a television. So, with these regular visits children often felt these heroes were members of the family. At the end of the show, Roy sang the theme song, Happy Trails. It left children with a smile and looking forward to the next show, but most importantly, Roy and Dale somehow made us feel we could accomplish anything, if only we tried.

Summer of 1954 was over, and the first day of school had finally arrived. I may have been only 5 years old, and small at that, but I was ready. After all, I’d been to school once with my Aunt Sue, on her last day of 6^th grade. But even better, I was wearing a brand new red plaid dress and I had my brand spanking new Roy Rogers and Dale Evans lunchbox with me. I was definitely prepared for school.

Glenville Elementary School sat atop a very large hill, and there were only two ways to get up there. The way students from the village of Glenville took was to take the steps and sidewalk up to the school. Buses and cars carrying the children who lived outside the village took the road from the other side of the hill that led to the playground.

Instead of taking the big yellow school bus, my mother asked my dad to drive me to school the first day. I’m sure she thought he’d drive up the road to the playground, and then accompany me to my class. After all, I was only 5 years old. But, Mother was wrong. Daddy had another idea. He drove me to the bottom of the hill in the village. There, he set me out and told me to go on up to the school. I felt even smaller when I looked up at what seemed like steps that went on forever on a hill that was a mountain in my mind. I turned around to ask Daddy for help, but he had already driven off. With my Roy Rogers and Dale Evans lunchbox in hand, I took a deep gulp and deeper breath before beginning my journey up that big hill to my first day of First Grade. Somehow, my little short legs climbed all those steep steps and the long, meandering sidewalk.

When I finally reached the school, children of all sizes were everywhere I looked. It seemed logical to my 5 year old mind to ask one of the older children where I should go. So, I approached a tall boy that looked smart. I asked, “Do you know where I go?” He laughed. My feelings were hurt, and a tear or two slipped down my face, but I regained my composure quickly. If Roy Rogers had been close by, I knew he’d tell me to be brave. I looked around again, and noticed several children going into the school who were close to my size. It seemed logical at that point to follow them. I reasoned, maybe, just maybe, they knew the way to my class. So, there I went, trailing along behind them to a classroom where there were more children about my size. Fortunately for me, the school only had one first grade classroom. I’d made it to Mrs. Amanda Rohrbaugh’s room.

Wanda Harrell had arrived for her first day of school. I'd climbed my first mountain, well, it was a hill, but even better than the successful climb, I'd found my way to the classroom. That day 51 years ago was a day of firsts: my first day of school, my first lunchbox and my first adventure in the big wide world, my first happy trail. 

Although Roy Rogers and Dale Evans have passed on, they are alive and well on the front of that very lunchbox I carried to school that first day in 1954. The lunchbox and its matching Thermos are in mint condition, and considered one of my greatest treasures, a reminder of days long gone, of good role models for children, and the promise of happy trails.