You Can't Go Home Again

I was feeling a bit off last week. No doubt it was related to my hormones. So, for whatever reason, I went to visit my old school. A bit of history: I went to a private Christian school. Our church had begun as one of those 1-room deals, with a basement hall and that's it. Later, an addition was built to include a new chapel. The entire addition was built around a (very small, turns out - thought it was bigger) courtyard with a maple tree. Anyway, not long after I graduated, the school moved to a larger facility and the church moved to a newly constructed building. Our old building was sold to a retirement home. The school has since detached itself from the church and been renamed. I peeked at its home page just now and it didn't even have our school Bible verse anywhere on it. "And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature and favour with God and man." The crest was nowhere in evidence. I wonder if they still have the desk I drilled a hole in with my compass in Grade 7. Even the new church has been renamed.

Anyway, I went to the retirement home and they let me look around. It's a nice place, but it didn't stir any memories. The only thing that's the same is the shape of the chapel (now the dining hall) and the courtyard with the maple tree. No gym, no pastor's office, no baptistry, no door to the platform where the pulpit was, no SK room/meeting room where the ladies used to hold showers. It's all gone. The tree we used as a fort was still there, though. Way at the back of the parking lot/playground.

So the nurses there told me that my old SK teacher was at another facility. She was the pastor's wife. I drove past there today. Then I drove back to see if I could say hi. She was in a deep sleep, though, and the one nurse explained that even if they could wake her, it might be difficult to get her to understand who I was. I am going to dig up an old SK class picture and send a copy in a Christmas card. Maybe one of the daughters will see it when they visit. The older one taught JK and organised the musical every year. I think Mrs. S was close to retirement when I was 5, so I shouldn't be surprised that she's in her 90's now.

Surprisingly, all of this left me feeling pretty good. I should thank all the nurses who looked so interested to hear that the one home had been a school, not just a church and the others who wanted to hear about Mrs. S as a teacher. I guess they have a lot of practice dealing with people who want to reminisce. :-)