Lu Campbell
from an email

I am a 1965 graduate of New London High school. I was born and raised in Rusk County. I attend New London for 10 1/2 years. Everyday before I got on the school bus my Mom would make me come and show her what I had on and I always did. But one time when I was in high school at the last minute after I had shown her my attire for the day I decided to change clothes. When I got home that afternoon and she realized that I had changed clothes boy was I in trouble. That is when she finally told me that reason she wanted to know what I had on was because if the school blew up again she might be able to identify me by my clothing. She never tried to scare us about going to school in New London because all four of her children are New London graduates. I am not saying that I did not think about it but I just was not afraid to go there.

As a small child I can remember the adults reminiscing about the horrors of the school explosion. I lost a cousin, my Mom's nephew, in the tragedy whom I never met because I was not born until 1947. About the only time they talked about it was in July before the 4th. When I was a child and up until several years ago we went to the Pleasant Hill Picnic on the Saturday before July 4th. It took place under the huge pines at the Pleasant Hill Missionary Baptist Church. My aunts, uncles and cousins from Orange,Houston, Dallas, etc would come up for this event. We always had to have a "Pleasant Hill Picnic " dress and new white Sunday shoes. After a delicious meal and a good time visiting with long lost cousins, family members, friends and acquaintances we would walk across Hwy 323 to the Pleasant Hill Cemetery. We always brought fresh flower arrangements and cut out any weeds that had grown in the plots the night before so they would be there on Saturday when the people started arriving. When we took the flowers on Friday night other families would be there and sometime it would take hours to get back home, because I came from a family that loved to talk.

As we walked around the cemetery, we would go our the graves to honor our families members and straighten up anything on the site that was out of place. we usually wound up exploring the entire cemetery. My Mom would take us way in the back where one of our relatives, who was a Confederate hero was buried. Then walking back up the hill is when we usually stopped and Mom would tell us about some of the children she knew who had been killed in the explosion. She told us of some families who lost one child and then she would tell us about a family who had lost all of their children. I can remember reading the tombstones and thinking that these children were my age and at that time in my life death was just not what I wanted to think about; especially when it was children. I can remember parents and other family members standing at the foot of the graves and quietly bowing their heads and softly crying. We were always told to be quiet and speak in whispers as not to bother others.

They do not have the Pleasant Hill Picnic anymore, but I go out regularly and walk around as my maternal grandparents, my Mom and Dad and my only son is buried there. Sometimes my family loads up in several cars especially in the Spring and Fall and we go to pay our respects. I have taken my children and taught them how to show respect to all the heroes there; and we are teaching the grandchildren as we walk step by step through the well worn paths. Thinking about these young children now burdens my heart just as it did as a child. But, as an adult I know that they are rose buds in Heaven.

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