An Elementary Life

Question of the Week:

AN ELEMENTARY LIFE 

by Chrissy Larson

 "I'm home!!!" I hollered from the top of my lungs, slinging my leather book bag on the floor in the mud room. (A mud room is a place designated for sloppy, wet, muddy items such as clothing, mittens or boots. Ours was an area near the back hall doorway.) Each one of us kids had a brown, tooled leather school bag that my dad made years back from scrap cowhide while working at the Armour Leather Company in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. If I concentrate hard enough, I can still recall the oily scent of the chestnut-tanned leather.
        Kicking off my shoes without untying them, I stomped up the stairs looking for my mom. Her voice came back to me from somewhere under a pile of unfolded, crisp, clean laundry. I saw the sheets from off my bed in the pile which meant I was gonna sleep good tonight. Turning back fresh bed linens that hung on the clothesline in my backyard absorbing sweet air was like opening a gift. Tonight the indulgence would be all mine.
        "How was your school day?" my mom routinely quizzed.
        "Fun, but my face hurts."
        "Your face hurts?" she questioned.
        "Yeah, I couldn't stop smiling all day. It was great to be back at school. I had the best day, Mom. Besides seeing everyone again, we played S.P.U.D. at recess, my favorite. Oh, and thanks for the note in my lunch box... I love you too," I returned as I whispered a kiss on her beautiful soft cheek. Now it was my turn to ask a routine question.
        "What's for dinner?" She must have been so sick of being asked that but there was something about knowing the menu ahead of time that made doing homework all the way to suppertime entirely bearable. 
        My mom was and still is a fabulous cook. It really didn't matter what she made (except for liver and Brussels sprouts) because it was ALL good. Mom knew how to make a hearty, healthy meal for a family of seven (my baby sister wasn't born yet) and manage to stay within her meager budget, including dessert.
       After dinner, I had to either wash or dry the dishes, along with my older sister. We passed the time by either sharing events of the day or singing songs together, whichever SHE was in the mood for. I idolized her and my way of showing her love and respect was doing things to her liking, which sometimes meant letting her pick if I would be the washer or the dryer. Usually I dried because that also included putting the dishes away. Since she literally prayed me into existence, I owed her my life.

Father Knows Best - 1954-1960

        When the chores were done and the last bit of homework was checked, we all voted on a television show to watch on our black and white TV. Dad's vote weighed the most so we learned to love shows like Gunsmoke, Perry Mason, Bonanza, and Andy Griffith. Another one of my favorite shows was Father Knows Best. I loved the show but learned to hate the theme song at the end... only because my mother added words to the closing jingle. She and my dad (who whistled the tune along with her) triumphantly sang, "It's time to go to bed," over and over again with incredible delight until we got so sick of it and ran to our rooms. I guess that was the point.
        The walls of the house soon relaxed as my siblings and I each came out of the bathroom with clean, brushed teeth, kissed and hugged our parents, and in Walton's fashion said goodnight. Falling asleep was difficult, lying there trying to listen to the conversations of my older brothers in the room across the hall. The sound of their deep voices would eventually lull me to sleep and a new day would soon begin.
        "Good morning," came the energetic voice from the bottom of the stairs. "Are all of you awake? There's cinnamon toast getting cold down here so hurry up and get ready for school or you'll be late." In the background was the rhythmic sound of marching band music Mom conveniently found on the radio. I always wondered what she got out of John Phillips Sousa so early in the morning. After I grew up, I realized it wasn't that she liked that type of music as much as she liked the way it motivated us. Smart mom!

Kohler Village Elementary School

        Metal lunch boxes and brown paper bags were lined up on the counter-top along with our leather book bags, just like the school buildings that lined School Street in Kohler Village where I lived all of my grade school life. One brother headed to high school, while the other to junior high. My sister and I went to the elementary school where the crossing guard in her navy blue uniform and hat faithfully escorted us across the street each day to meet the many friends and classmates who slowly gathered in front of their respective schools.
        The cool Wisconsin air was brisk enough to shake off the last bit of sleepiness but not yet cold enough to see your breathe. That day was just around the corner. Autumn was definitely in the air as a hint of Fall color slowly visited the leaves on the trees.
        Not only were the leaves changing, so were we. We wanted to grow up so badly; to be like the high school students at the other end of the block; to meet the day when we could cross the "high school line" at the Youth Center; to wear make-up and go to dances. Couldn't time skip by any faster?
        I'm almost grown up now and all I want to do is go back. I miss those days. It was a simpler life with no cares or much to worry about. I guess it's my turn to watch as my own kids wish for the hands of time to pick up their pace, only to grow up with a longing to return to a more elementary life.
       
I've shared some fond memories from my elementary school days.  What are some of yours?