Oak School #3. From tiny acorns to mighty oaks.
This is the sign that sits in front of my elementary school. Just to the left and below the bay window that was my kindergarten room. Inside was the window seat that I sat on and watched my mom walk away the first day of school. Back in the day we did not go to pre-k. This building housed my very first moments in school.
I can still remember the way the stairs were worn in the middle of each step. The way the cafeteria smelled – a cross between tater tots and canned string beans. The nurses office where I took my first eye exam and discovered I needed glasses; the oval baby blue kind (very Brady Bunch, indeed). The amazing Austin Powers style mole on my teacher’s nose. (seriously, we even had a song for it).
The school alma mater was never so deep as to mention acorns to oaks — that sign was added only recently. Yet I do still remember every word. One of the more creative lines:
When I walk to school each day, I stop and look and then I say, “Oak School Three, is the best. It’s really better than all the rest.”
I know what you are thinking, who was the genius that wrote those lyrics?
Why the corny walk down memory lane? Because two of my mightiest oaks of childhood were visiting this weekend from out of town and there is nothing more fun than doing the tour of the formative years with people you shared them with. These particular ‘oaks’ were my brother and his best friend since 2nd grade. These guys were the coolest. Four grades above me, I was lucky if they let me watch TV with them.
This weekend we all spent time together. Going to the beach, walking the boardwalk, hanging at my parents house. If not for my adult nephews to keep us in check I am sure we could have easily reverted back to being the kids in the house. Come to think of it the conversation at brunch was as adolescent as it gets.
Just when you think you are all grown up…
your not.
Thanks guys!
Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog. For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.
i could cry but i don't have time 