Tumbling Treasures

We live in an old home, so I'm accustomed to stuff not being perfect.  There are cracks in the plaster walls, gouges in the oak floors, and BB gun pellet dings on the living room ceiling.  (Teenage sons of the previous owners... NOT OURS). 

We also live in an old community.  Our current library building was actually an old Congregational church, donated to the city for this public purpose in 1912.  The charm of our turn-of-the-century pharmacy includes its worn wood floors, painted tin ceiling, custom cabinetry and medicinal labeled porcelain knobs (not to mention the charm of friendly pharmacists who work there!).  The building that houses our current grade school was built in 1877.  There's some history in those halls.

I'm surrounded by old, worn stuff, and it's not uncomfortable.

But things got a little exciting a few months ago when the back of one of the downtown buildings literally slid off.

Thankfully, no one was injured.  However, the site was quite impressive, and the kids and I would regularly drive by to see what else was hanging out of the exposed end. 

To our joy, the city has finally contracted the details of demolishing this property and work started on it this week. 

From the safety of our big white van, we got to gawk at two brave men (one is shown in this picture) who withstood the windy heights to knock out sections, brick by brick.  When larger chunks tumbled out of the air and crashed to the protected sidewalk below, you could hear the whoops and cheers eminating from my van.  The dust didn't settle, and neither did the Five-and-Under crowd.

The children were excited, but I was also a little sad.  This building is much older than three of me, and now it will be gone forever. 

The arches above the windows, the detailed stone carvings, the cornice at the very top.... all this "character", gone.  And I couldn't help but wonder about the personal history of the people who utilized this building over the years, those who worked in it, those who lived in it, and the generations since who have ridden their bikes in front of it. 

In a few short weeks, the resulting big empty lot will look awkward.  Rosie, Finan, even Andy and Merryn may never remember what the downtown looked like before the gaping hole, but I will. 

And, I realize I've just joined the ranks of those who "Remember when..."

Jumping In

Yooohoo.  Anybody home?

Yes.  We're here... even since the end of July.  But I can't remember last week, let alone last July, so, I'm jumping in where we are.

And that happens to be up to our ears with school.

And a certain 4th grader needing help with her science homework... "single cell orgasms" (Her father, who is also helping to correct her pronunciation, adds "If only it were that easy.").

And a first grader who drew a picture full of people, and who STILL didn't have enough classtime to complete the assignment of  drawing "My Family".  I wonder how many times he had to ask permission to sharpen his pencil.  (He is the 7th Krenz for this wonderful teacher... she could accurately draw the family portrait for us).

And two giddy high schoolers scavaging archaic clothing.  It's Homecoming week, and they needed to dress in the '80s.  Torn, off the shoulder sweatshirt, fingerless leather glove, pearls, white tennies with hot pink laces, shoulder pads, tunic length sweaters, leg warmers, Big Hair...  RELAX; this was not from MY closet!  (They would not have thought this was so funny if it were from my closet).  Thank you, dear youthful Charlotte, for opening yours.

When I was wearing shoulder pads back in the day, I couldn't fathom a future with nine children, all of them ours.  I bopped along between classes listening to my cassette player.  I was as clueless as a single cell orgasm.

Still am.  Sometimes.