The Magic of Old Photos

26907854_10215086439655232_3214867677248107355_n

This photo was taken decades ago, guessing by my grandfather. Can’t recall for sure but it was either the late 1940’s or early 1950’s when my grandfather was approached by a member of the school board for this school to come on board as custodian to put the in bad shape building back in good running order. Grandpa Pete and this man both grew up in this farming community and Elza knew Pete was the perfect man for the job. Pete agreed with the understanding that it was his school to do with as he saw fit, he was boss in that department.

Grandpa worked here, along with all his other doings, until his heart attack that rendered him unable to work. Sometime in the late 1960’s. Over the years whenever someone who went to school during those days find out who my grandfather was…oh, the wonderful stories. I mourn at times over the fact that I never knew him. Someday I will write about him, he did so many things in only 64 years.

The building was built in 1918, in 1962 the school became one with the neighboring town and in 1990 it closed when the larger town built on and moved all grades into one school. This building thankfully is still is use, being the center of our county it’s the home of our emergency services unit. Two generations of our family went to the school.

Now I’m getting off track…while going through my grandmother’s albums the other day I came upon this picture and posted it to my FB wall asking who knew which school this was. When I went to school here in the mid-1980’s (it was the 5th-8th grade building for our two town community school district) it looked much different, the windows had been changed and a large tree in front. Dozens of people spoke up that they’d gone to school there and the wonderful stories from people who went to school with my mom down to those younger than me.

My husband absolutely hates Facebook and I get it…there’s so much BS out there. From time to time I’ll dig through old pictures or school albums and post a random, do you remember and leave it at that and the stories that come rolling and some getting longer and longer with others posting replies under other peoples comments. That is when FB can be so much fun and leave such a smile or sometimes even bring on a good belly laugh.

The biggest thread under the picture comes from a story of a guy a grade above me and his getting in trouble and being paddled. The story hasn’t come out as to what he did to get paddled, most of us only remember the incident…the ones who know aren’t spilling the beans.

Sometimes you just have to look back to the old days and start some good old story telling!

Peace!

Brother

Many moons ago when The Girl was just a little a series of events happened within a short time that from time to time we still get a good laugh about. 

When three years old a friend gave us a blue heeler pup, the runt of the litter, we named him Sam.  KSCN0028_edited-1.jpg

Girlie and Sam were inseparable from the start, they were quite the pair!  As they grew their bond became so strong that no one besides me, The Old Boy and the grandparents could get near her without Sam coming between.  In time we started calling him Brother, it fit.  Living in a small town of about 250 and with my working at the town’s small Mart and with Brother going with us almost everywhere, people knew Sammy at K’s Brother. 

Think it was the summer after K turned 5 that a new family to town bought and started up the small town cafe.  Often K and I would go to the cafe at noon with our friend Miss Velma, eat dinner and socialize.  Almost always we wouldn’t eat all our food, we’d get a box to take the leftovers home for Brother. 

One day Miss Velma was laughing as she said she had a hoot of a story.  The owners of the cafe were rather concerned about K’s brother, we never brought him in to eat with us and they never saw this brother any other time when they would see me and K.  The very kind people thought we had this little boy at home that we didn’t bring out in public and would take our leftovers home to!  Miss Velma told them that they had seen Brother, the blue heeler dog we often had with us when walking around town.  They’d never even thought that the dog could be the Brother we took our food home to! 

About that same time a young family moved to town, not far down the street from where we were living.  The mother came to me one day with a story.  This mom was teaching Vacation Bible School in town and K was with her group.  After the story she told she asked all the kids to raise their hands if they had siblings and K raised her hand.  Mrs. H. asked K about her siblings being she’d seen us many times and had never seen any other children.  K said she had a brother named Sammy, he was her dog! 

The love between a girl and her dog, absolutely priceless!

Peace!

Great Grandma

 

I walk into the antique store and that glorious smell hits me.

I smile and happy tears dare to fall.

Remembrance of a time decades past

with a wish to go back in time for a moment or two.

“Come see Grandma”.

I run and hide behind my mom.

“Stop now and go”.

I’m afraid.

“Steven, get her and bring her to me”.

I hold onto my mom’s legs.

I’ve been here before.

I know her, remember her.

She says she’s my grandma, it doesn’t click.

The grandma is always sitting in her chair.

Her chair is in the kitchen.

I never see her out of that chair.

There is no tv.

There is an interesting set of kitchen table and chairs.

She has hair as white as snow.

Her hair appears short but I’m told in later years it was long, always put back.

There is always a blanket in progress on her lap.

She has long, skinny fingers.

They scare a little girl.

Many years later I see her again.

She isn’t in the house,

but in an old persons home.

She’s sitting in that chair.

A blanket in progress on her lap.

Her long, skinny fingers folded in her lap.

She says very little.

I now understand she’s my mom’s grandma too.

 

I’m in my bedroom.

Mom walks into the hallway and says,

“Grandma has passed away”.

I cry and cry and cry although I didn’t really know her.

We walk into a small church and there she is,

in the front of the church, 

in a box.

I’m afraid but my brother says,

“You have to go see her”.

I hide behind my brother and peak at the grandma with the snow white hair,

her long, skinny fingers are linked together.

I cry and cry and cry.

I walk into the antique stop and that most wondrous old smell hits me,

brings tears to my eyes and a smile to my face.

I think of the wooden and wicker little kid rocking chair

she handed down to me as a little girl.

I think of the beautiful kitchen table that was handed down to her,

from her mother,

that now stands in my own kitchen.

I think of the white haired lady with her long hair pulled back,

sitting in her kitchen.

She tells me she’s my grandma.

I wish I would have been able to know her more.

Peace!