{"id":6222,"date":"2007-04-10T07:56:41","date_gmt":"2007-04-10T11:56:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=6222"},"modified":"2024-10-27T15:57:16","modified_gmt":"2024-10-27T19:57:16","slug":"memory-lane","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=6222","title":{"rendered":"Grade School Ghosts"},"content":{"rendered":"

I took these photos on Easter morning. It was chilly, windy, bright. I went to my old grade school – which is no longer an active school (sniff) – but the ghosts remain. You can see how Mother Nature is taking over … the weeds in the sandbox, the empty basketball hoops, the rust … but this place is alive<\/i>. I went to school here. I am everywhere<\/i> I look. So is Betsy. And Michele. And Andrew. And Keith. And J. And Greta and Leo and Dee Dee and Kevin and … my siblings … This was where we grew up.<\/p>\n

The door. This isn’t really the front door – that’s over to the right, off-camera. This is a side entrance – the boiler room to the left.<\/p>\n

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\nThis is where the fabled FORT used to be – a huge two-leveled wooden structure – which could be a pirate ship, a fortress, a castle, whatever. Now of course … it’s just bushes and trees. The fort is where I attacked poor Keith, age 9, after chasing him at recess, and kissed him on the cheek<\/a>. A terrifying moment for both of us. We laughed about it last week. He could not get away from me<\/i>. And then of course I had to run away, shrieking. I had gotten what I wanted, but what was I supposed to do with it???<\/i> No idea. Must run away.<\/p>\n

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\nHere’s one of the sandboxes. This one was right next to the fort. We would sit on those triangular wooden sides, our feet in the sand. When we were older, say, 10 or 11 … we didn’t play in the sandbox. But the girls would all convene there – to gossip, plan our attacks on the boys, chatter away. I also remember that Betsy used to know how to make herself faint – she would hyperventilate, then hold her breath, and keel over. This was a huge draw – kids would run from all sides of the playground to “watch Betsy faint”. And she would do it in this sandbox – so that she wouldn’t crack her head open on the cement. Good times, good times.<\/p>\n

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\nThis just struck me as very desolate and poetic.<\/p>\n

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\nI love this.<\/p>\n

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\nAlaska. Off to the side and up around the corner.<\/p>\n

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\nThe Great Rift Valley of … er … Oklahoma?<\/p>\n

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\nA bubblah. This is out the back door and to the right – we used to play ferocious dodgeball in this small brick alcove. The bubblah is kid-height – everything makes one feel like a huge giant.<\/p>\n

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\nTarget practice!<\/p>\n

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\nThis picture is full of ghosts. Ghosts of a bazillion 4-square games, many many years ago.<\/p>\n

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\nThrough the glass darkly. Over to the left was my 6th grade class – where Andrew gave me the Valentine<\/a> – way down at the end of the hall is the “multipurpose room” – where we would have gym on rainy days, lunch every day – and where plays would be put on on occasion. I also remember seeing The Computer who wore tennis sneakers<\/i> there – on some rainy day. Huge screen pulled down … all of us in the darkness … who knows why some things stick in the brain.<\/p>\n

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\nOld messages. Hieroglyphics of a bygone age.<\/p>\n

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\nFlorida. Georgia. Alabama.<\/p>\n

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\nGather ye rosebuds.<\/p>\n

\n\"\"<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I took these photos on Easter morning. It was chilly, windy, bright. I went to my old grade school – which is no longer an active school (sniff) – but the ghosts remain. You can see how Mother Nature is … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[3],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6222"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6222"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6222\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":180407,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6222\/revisions\/180407"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6222"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6222"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6222"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}