You know we used to practice softball in the back of the Old School. We also played football with friends. We also snuck out a time or too to with a boyfriend to hold a sweaty palm or receive a kiss. We rollerbladed up and down the sidewalk at the Old School. We rode our bikes down the hill, flying into Pettus Street. We sat in front of the amazing columns that flank the entrance and climbed the rusted, metal steps of the fire escape that flank the building to look out onto Walnut Street.

We hit countless tennis balls against the back wall and ended up with poison ivy retrieving them. The Old School was our solace and friend. She welcomed us. We walked from our house to see plays our friends were in (some that left us too soon but were so incredibly talented). The parking lot during productions is still full- in front of the school and in its backyard. Our town is talented.

I did a Social Studies project one time about the Old School. Her history fascinated me and still does.

You see, my mama and daddy bought our house with pride. It was the first home they had ever owned. He walked by our very house every day when he was a kid from Strawberry Street to go to school. I do not think he would have ever dreamed of owning it one day or any house for that matter; they did not have much growing up.

We didn’t know there were other neighborhoods with people with more means. If we did, I don’t think we would have cared. We had friends that lived in our neighborhood that we would play and play until the streetlight sent us home.

Mama and Daddy worked tirelessly making this house a home-removing the undergrowth that for years had been unattended where the fence now stands, tearing down the carriage house, planting trees, and painting. A lot of love has been poured into this house and property- a lot of love and time.

Daddy, he built that fence with his very hands, when I was in 6^th grade and then recently after a storm blew it down. You may see this fence and think of it as replaceable, but I see my momma and daddy painstakingly working and decorating it with Christmas wreaths in preparation for COTR. Daddy has Macular Degeneration and has had since has was 15. So, you see building that fence was not an easy task.

Every COTR morning, parade riders are in the Old School yard, floats are lined up on Pettus Street. There’s a since of excitement in the air. The Old School plays host and offers her yard for parking for families to gather to watch the best damn Christmas parade in the state or country even. As kids we would walk over to see friends or go to the float we were assigned. Our dog Indy was our escort.

I haven’t lived at home since I was 18 but every time I visit, memories flood back. Indy, my favorite dog, is buried in the backyard. He was the best. He’d hang out with us at the Old School.

There’s a lot lately that’s been going on surrounding the Old School. The old beauty is in question. I silently sit and watch-not sure to what to say. I mourn at the thought of the loss of her green space. I’m torn as I want people to have a place to live. I pray for careful consideration of her; she has been with this community for some time. Don’t take her for granted. Don’t take my neighborhood for granted.

You see, this is my neighborhood too and it could be yours.

A view of the yard before the undergrowth was removed.