Sunday afternoon the wife, baby and I took a walk. We left the boy at the neighbors’. We went over the Broadway bridge, up Lyttle Boulevard, down Cedar Street and out past the Lower Broadway School.
My, but it is beautiful on that walk. So many pretty houses and lawns. We certainly enjoyed the walk.
When we turned back on Broadway, as we passed the school, my wife asked me if that was the school where our boy would start next year. I told her it was. “Do the children play on that hard, rocky ground?” she asked. I told her I guessed they did. “What about those big rocks sticking up out of the ground everywhere? Wouldn’t a first grader be in danger playing in a place like that?” I told her it looked like it. “And what are those wooden stairs coming down out of the building?” I told her I imagined it was an emergency exit in case of fire. “Half of the protecting banister is broken off,” she said. “A first grader, especially in an emergency, might fall down those dangerous stairs, mightn’t he?” I told her it looked like it. “Why do they have such awful playgrounds and dangerous stairs, Bob?” she asked. I told her I didn’t know. “Are the schools hard up for money?” I told her I thought the tax rate here was about as high as any place in the state. She just shook her head. You see, we love our little boy and he is going to have to go to school next year. 1945