Mr. Long, the President's Physical Fitness Award, Gym, Square Dancing

Indian Village Elementary School
3835 Wenonah Lane
Fort Wayne, Indiana 46809

School Gymnasium
May 23, 2008

Photo by KFH

When I went home in May, I was lucky enough to be treated to a tour of my grade school, Indian Village Elementary.

I don't care what anyone says. Every place has a certain smell and my elementary school is no exception. The moment, I stepped inside those doors, I was immediately flooded with memories.

Yep - one whiff - and there I was.

While I was receiving my tour, the 5th grade was "graduating" in the school's gymnasium which is why you will see the remenants of celebratory items in some of my pictures.

Take for example - this thing.

This is a thing of torture - brought to you by our famous gym teacher, Mr. Long. It was always - and I mean always - the thing we could never avoid - especially if we wanted that President's Physical Fitness Award.

Side note: I really wish I had a picture of Mr. Long. I'm not going to do justice in describing him.

He had jet black hair...whistle, always around his neck. He wore blue-ish polyester-ish pants that always came up pretty high on his waist. He wore a polo-like shirt and white gym shoes. I'm not sure where he is today - retired I hope!

Oh and by the way - every year, I was one of those kids who received a President's Physical Fitness Award. Every kid who scored enough points received a certificate and official recognition in the auditorium (aka the gymnasium, aka the cafeteria).

Girls, you remember those light blue striped jumpers that we had to wear? Gosh - wish I had a picture of that...

And then - I swear - these are the exact, same, floor mats that were used when I went to this school. They smell the same. And for the record, I did not purposely sniff the mats - they just emitted a scent of sweat - 30 + years of sweat.

These look like the mats that Mr. Long would put under the balance beam or the horse. sigh I feel old thinkin' about gym at Indian Village Elementary.

I learned how to play kick ball here, tumble down a row of mats, balance on the "beam", jump over the horse, scooter my way down to one end to pick up the bean bag squares (and back), how to play basketball, what relay races were, and best of all - I learned how to square dance here.

That's right - square dancing.

You all remember? It was one of the first times that we were paired up with someone of the opposite sex. And better yet - we had to hold hands with them! My typical partners were (because I was so tall) - Errol Stech, Rodney Ryder, and also Barry Bender (he was a grade ahead of me).

Growing Up On Cedar Crest Circle - The Kids

Like my map?

This is my childhood neighborhood. I randomly went through and put the names of the families and approximated where they lived. I know I missed some. I asked my buddy Carl ahem to validate things but he must be too busy - off being the neighborhood association President or something ;).

I showed this to my sister. She was pretty amazed that I remembered all of these people. We argued over the spelling of the "Manter's". She thought it was "Manners". I was right. She was wrong. Insert smart aleck remark here: I am so much smarter than my sister - nah nah nah nah nah nah.

Is it obvious yet that I had a great love for the neighborhood that I grew up in? I was only here for seven years of my life yet those seven years were extremely important. It's where I learned a lot about human behavior.

I learned how to play with others.

I learned that taking risks sometimes meant reward and sometimes equaled negative consequences.

I learned how to negotiate, how to stand up for myself, and what it meant to stand behind friends (and my sister too).

I learned that death happens. And more frequently than it should. This includes people, pets, and plants.

I learned that hard work = some positive payoff...whether that was an allowance (25 cents - thank you very much), a good grade, or an extra privilege.

I learned where the boundaries were with friends, their parents, and my own parents. I came to understand what was socially acceptable and what was better left unsaid.

I learned that a good imagination was better than a million barbie dolls (and associated accessories).

I learned that boys were cute, smelly, annoying, and a must-have at certain times of your life.

I learned that sometimes, no matter what you look like, people will always make fun of you.

I learned that adults were just as vulnerable as kids - they were older, a bit wiser, but really didn't have stuff all figured out.

Other stuff too I learned - but for now, that's a good enough list.

So back to the kids of my neighborhood....

It's amazing that thirty-some years later, I can still remember almost all of the families in my neighborhood but ask me what happened five years ago, or even two days ago, and that takes a lot of effort...

Here's who they are - I swear - if any of them are reading this and I have butchered their names or called them 'suzie' when they were really 'tommie', I will feel mortified (so apologies ahead of time - and please correct me).

Manter - David, Tricia, Holly, Lisa

Davis - Debbie, Denita, Shawn

Asher - Steven, Dennis

Boice - Carl Jr., Kathy, Jackie, Kurt, Steve

Beckstedt - Philip, Mark, Joe

Kump - Lorrianne, Cindy

Brouse - Delores

VanPelt - Brad

Stech - Errol, Kenny

Crane - Floyd, Robbie

Grimes - Kevin, Mark, Michelle

Debit - Monica, Michelle

Wooden - Brian, Colleen

Couch - Erika, Aaron

Bobilya - Shonee, Stacy

Rice - Brian, Greg

Vachon - Dave

Swanigan - Rhonda, Rene, Faron

Smith - Janice

Marshall - Tom