Rotten Tomato Soup

Monday morning. It was cool out. Autumn is near. It was so clear when I was a child. School's opening welcomed in the cool fall days. We walked to school with our books enclosed in a satchel we carried on our backs. It was olive green with loops we put our arms through. Old army surplus?
We walked alone or in groups. The cool air frosted our breath and we would pretend we were grownups smoking cigarettes. Some of us carried the candy cigarettes to make the illusion more real. A pack of Lucky Sticks, or whatever, that were always quickly chewed up and swallowed. We wanted to be grown up but we wanted the candy more.
The golf course was between me and RTS--Riverland Terrace School. It was the grammar school in our neighborhood. A two story brick building symmetrically laid out.
The front door was a double door entrance. The outward frame painted white and the inner frame painted a sickly pale green. Army surplus paint? Entering through this portal one stepped onto a wooden floor well worn over the years. It had to have been pine flooring that had not seen wax nor stain since first laid. Well worn by the traffic of childrens' feet.
We never went in through that door because the Principal's offce was immediately to the left. There were stories about the kids who passed through those doors. The trouble makers who received a righteous paddling with the special board which hung on the wall. I never saw it but it was described as a flat board with a handle at one end. The business end contained several holes drilled through it. These holes were to increase the punishment. Blisters were the result. Very uncomfortable I was told. I never knew anyone who developed sitting problems from blisters. A lot of my friends closed that door behind them after entering. They often had tears in their eyes upon leaving but seemed to be able to sit fairly comfortably afterwards. I think that board was the first urban legend I ever heard.
We kids always entered by the side doors recessed beneath a sheltering alcove. There were steps impressed into the wall which jutted out at each end of the front face. On the opposite side of those steps was a short wall we used to sit on while waiting for the bell for us to enter class. It was our congregating area to chat and play. The wall of the building had two rows of bricks that jutted out about two inches beyond the wall facing. These extended bricks were positioned at just the right distance for us to grip with our hands and at the same time position our splayed feet atop the bottom row. We gripped the row at about eye level and shifted our feet backward or forward to scale the wall horizontally. It was our adventure to see who could "walk" along the face of the school building until our fingers could no longer grip and our feet would finally slide off. We were mountain climbers in our imagination. Climbing around the corners of the building was the greatest challenge. We were kids with a lot of energy.
Some of us entered the classrooms by the fire escape. A long lean iron stairway which seemed to have no support clamped into the wall like it was. There were 3 thin iron slats to each step which should have had 5 slats because each was separated by open space. We were told not to look down. We always looked down immediately and, in doing so, rushed to the wall side to cling to brick spaces as we inched upward. It was a long stairway. It was a climb of fear for a child made dizzy by height. That was not my favorite entrance, needless to say.
There was a baseball diamond ten steps to the right of the school enclosed in the school ground. Telephone poles formed a " C" around home plate. Fencing wire was attached to the poles to stop any missed pitch. There was a short brick wall directly behind this extra high fence. It was just tall enough for kids to sit so their feet touched the ground. We'd run along the top of this wall playing chase and tag while the bigger boys would be hitting pop flies to their friends in the outfield. The more adventurous smaller kids would climb the wire attached to the telephone poles until the teacher monitor would stop them calling for them to get themselves down from there now.
There were sidewalks and pavement all around for those who received skates for Christmas. Skates were very sought after for Christmas. Most of us only recieved one large present for this biggest of holidays. We'd talk about what we wanted from the time school started until the night before the big day. If we were lucky enough to receive them we'd meet at the school in the afternoon and skate until the sole of our shoe tore away from the upper portion. There we'd stand with our skate dangling away from our foot tightly attached to the sole by means of clamps. Such a tear meant a spanking and no skates for a long time. It also meant a new pair of shoes had to be bought with money my parents did not have. The punishment was short lived and buying shoes was an adventure.
Usually a pair of shoes lasted a year or more unless this foot had a growth spurt which would require early shopping. The stores were all the same. Huge plate windows in the front which never allowed enough light in to see properly. Overhead lights consisted of bulbs hanging with about 50 watts glowing down. The salesman would take our shoes off. Looking at the dangling sole and shaking his head, he'd place the socked foot onto his measuring device and slide the little metal pieces along the line placing it snuggly agains the side and toe. Once he had the size he'd retrieve the shoe and place it on the foot. Then he'd have me jump out of my chair and climb onto the x-ray machine. Place your foot under here he'd say and I'd slide my foot into the small cave below. Now, look in here, he'd say and I'd look into the view scope at my eye level and, lo and behold, there were the bones in my foot in fluorescent green enclosed in the outline of a new shoe. There you go, he'd say, you can see this is a good fit with room to grow. I never listened being too fascinated with the bones I was wiggling under x-ray. That was a fad that soon faded. Something about cancer I think.
Of course it is that foot that now gives me trouble when I stand for a long time. Think I have a case?
This morning's air reminded me of these things. Last weeks' tragedy made me long for simpler times. Time marches ever forward, never backward. Thank you for memories