Growing up in a small town is one of the most wonderful experiences possible. As we start out on the road of life, the place where our journey begins always holds a special place. When I think about the Canton of my childhood and youth it is such a different Canton from the one we enjoy today.

Everything was within walking distance - the drugstore, the grocery store, the library, the church, the post office, the newspaper, my father's workplace. Main Street housed the dime store, clothing shops and places to buy hardware, even car dealerships, gas stations and the fire department.

Of course the school was right in town too. By the time I came along, the new high school had opened out from town, but Canton Elementary was housed in the old buildings clustered on Academy Street. There were no middle schools in Cherokee County back then and the elementary schools went through the eighth grade.

Eighth-grade graduation was a big deal, a coming of age, a crossing over. We grew up quicker in some ways back then, with more responsibility, but slower in others with our innocence more intact.

The anticipation of graduating from the eighth grade was intense. The girls wore white dresses and the boys sported jackets and ties. We got to wear high heels, and for some of us, stockings for the first time.

The beautiful old auditorium that is now so wonderfully restored was less glamorous in those days, but no less impressive. There was no air conditioning and the seats were uncomfortable.

On those nights of graduation it would be packed with all sorts of people from all walks of life. Many men who rarely wore a suit and tie would be brushed and shined to see their child embark upon the next phase of life. Housewives would be dressed in their Sunday best. Brothers and sisters would be spit and polished.

The graduation ceremony would be held at night. The windows along the sides of the auditorium were thrown open to allow the breeze to cool the air. Many women brought their fans with them. I had a dress of white dotted Swiss material with a dropped waist. I was so proud of it. White high heeled pumps made me feel taller than usual.

My friends and I giggled and gossiped as we lined up. This was the end of our time as children. Next year we would be at Cherokee High School, thrown in with students from elementary schools from every corner of the county. We would be meeting new boys, making new friends and pursuing new interests. Those easy halcyon days of our childhood were slipping away.

Of course, we were excited. We did not realize that life would never be the same, that something intangible would be gone. As I walked down that aisle that night in that darkened auditorium, with my parents, my brother and sister and even my grandmother in attendance I really didn't know how lucky I was.

Lucky to have grown up and lived in the same small town all my life. Lucky to have great friends that would be my friends for the rest of my life. Lucky to have good teachers who cared so much about me and what I made of myself. And lucky to have opportunities opening to me in the future.

I am glad I started my journey in Canton, and glad I still live here. Even if some things have changed, some of the really important ones are the same. That eighth-grade graduation opened new doors, but looking back I also cherish where I started.

Rebecca Johnston is former editor of The Cherokee Tribune.