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Stories of Growing Up in New Buffalo, Michigan
New Buffalo Memories, an Elementary Education
by Terry Brennan – Class of '62
As youngsters, growing up in Grand Beach in the early fifties, the waning days of August were bittersweet, signaling both the approach of a new school year and the end of another joyful summertime experience. Endless hours of frolicking in the waves of Lake Michigan or pedaling our bicycles from here to there and back, gave way to a realization that things were about to change. We looked forward with great anticipation to beginning a new grade level in school, to being introduced to a new teacher, and to reuniting with old friends, while at the same time sadly bracing ourselves for the imminent departure of our vacation companions. The anticipatory tug in one direction must have equaled out the reluctant pull of the other, however, as the annual transition was always pretty much seamless.
Preparation for a new school year was a multi-part adventure in our family. It began with a trip to Sears or Penney's, in Michigan City, to shop for school clothes. We ultimately supported the vendor with the lowest price for blue jeans, and my Mother bought them at least two sizes larger than necessary ensuring, as it did, that they would last the entire year. It mattered little to her, and only slightly more to us, that to keep them from dragging in the mud, we were forced to cuff them to about mid-shin height in September, but much less than that on toward springtime. A belt that usually measured about eight or ten inches longer than any of our waists, handed down from my older brother, assured that the trousers stayed properly positioned about our middles.
The next stop was Kopack's Variety Store, nestled right behind Gooch's Sinclair, on the corner of Whittaker and U.S. 12. Kopack's was the unofficial school supply store in town and it was there that we were outfitted for the coming year's classroom activity. With six kids in our family, a little money had to go a long way. As a result, and in spite of our pleading otherwise, each of us marched off to school with a somewhat limited list of supplies that included a nickel pad of paper, a couple of number two pencils, and a box of 12 Crayons-total bill, about fifty cents apiece
Other kids, whose parents had more money than mine (or less children), began the school year with boxes of 48 Crayons, enormous stacks of paper, personal pencil sharpeners, and their own large gum erasers. We used the ones on the end of our number two pencils until they wore down to nothing, then borrowed those belonging to our friends. By November or so, it was a real treat to find a pencil lying about, at school or at home, with most of a full eraser still intact.
Last stop before the school year began was Farina's Barber shop, right next door to Kopack's. My Father, or my Grandfather, generally chaperoned on that outing, it being a manly experience and all that. Russ Farina, husband of school nurse Pearl, owned the shop and, surprisingly, treated squirming youngsters with the same equanimity he did the adults. That impressed me, even then. If things were busy, to the best of my recollection an older brother, or perhaps it was his father, helped out. One thing was certain, when five Brennans showed up for their "back to school haircut," they could have used a third set of hands. Perched atop the world for ten or fifteen minutes on an Emil J. Paider chair, Mr. Farina would calmly ask us our age, and what grade we were about to enter, and what were our brother's name, and a long list of other nonsensical questions designed to keep us from squirming at just the wrong time and suffering the ignoble consequences.
Once shorn, clothed, and equipped, we were ready to launch into yet another school year. Questions besieged us before the official start however. Would Coach Stafinsky drive the bus again this year? Would all our old friends return and still "like us?" Which teacher would you have for whatever grade you were about to enter? Such trivial concerns were irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, yet each of them enlivened the conversations that preceded the first day of the school, stoking even further the expectations of our family clutch. It was a wonderful experience, that start of the new school year.
Confusion, rather than order, greeted the elementary school student at good ol' NB, as the big day finally arrived. Sorting out classrooms and teachers and desks occupied our time early on until, eventually, each day became more or less routine. I will always remember the smell upon entering the building on that first day each year, for all my years. The fresh scent of wood polish, floor wax, and window cleaner wafted delightfully throughout the school. Mr. Rosenbaum surely must have spent the entire summer cleaning and polishing and prepping for just that day. By mid-winter, however, when the windows were closed full-time and the air inside the building became stagnant, somewhat less pleasant aromas, beyond ole Art's ability to refresh, permeated the hallways and all the school's classrooms.
But, no matter the season, no matter the scent, the warm and fuzzy prevailed at all times- at least for most of us. Grade school in that beautiful red brick structure is a treasured time in my memory. From the kindergarten classroom with its glass block wall, sand boxes, and magnificently tiled floor, to the forbidden second story where the big kids went to class, it all remains vibrantly alive inside my head. Fixtures in the New Buffalo education system like Marian Glavin, Minnie Elwanger, Iris Nelson, and Donna Slater, selflessly "learned" us and loved us for generations. The teachers, the kids, the ice slides, the ball games, the school plays, the pile-ons, all come alive whenever I hear mention of New Buffalo. How fortunate were we all to have been there in that special place, at that special time, to enjoy that very special "elementary" experience.
Copyright © 2005 Terry Brennan · All rights reserved
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