Meeting
George and Ivan met
seventeen years ago in
Miss Julie’s second grade class
at Pinewood School, one of those
disappeared one-room
schoolhouses – forty kids, eight
grades, and Miss Julie.
Ivan’s family had a
farm, George’s parents
owned Popo’s “So Fresh and So
Clean” car wash. “Only
one for seventy miles,”
Old Popo would boast.
Farmers would bring their trucks, their
Sunday church cars, their
tractors, even, if they were
passing through town, done
with plowing, covered with dust.
The business shouldn’t
have lasted, but somehow it
held on until George
was old enough to learn to
chamois the hoods and
windows, to buff the tires
and polish the rims.
By this time he and Ivan
were the oldest class
at Pinewood, getting ready
to take a bus each
morning to Carruthers High.
One hour and fifteen
minutes each way. “Got to leave
at 6:30 each
morning,” George groans. Ivan just
shrugs. “I’m up before
then, anyway. Cows to milk.”
“Carruthers High School.
Two hundred kids there, Ivan.”
“Don’t need to worry,”
says Ivan. “You’ve got me.” Read More
George and Ivan met
seventeen years ago in
Miss Julie’s second grade class
at Pinewood School, one of those
disappeared one-room
schoolhouses – forty kids, eight
grades, and Miss Julie.
Ivan’s family had a
farm, George’s parents
owned Popo’s “So Fresh and So
Clean” car wash. “Only
one for seventy miles,”
Old Popo would boast.
Farmers would bring their trucks, their
Sunday church cars, their
tractors, even, if they were
passing through town, done
with plowing, covered with dust.
The business shouldn’t
have lasted, but somehow it
held on until George
was old enough to learn to
chamois the hoods and
windows, to buff the tires
and polish the rims.
By this time he and Ivan
were the oldest class
at Pinewood, getting ready
to take a bus each
morning to Carruthers High.
One hour and fifteen
minutes each way. “Got to leave
at 6:30 each
morning,” George groans. Ivan just
shrugs. “I’m up before
then, anyway. Cows to milk.”
“Carruthers High School.
Two hundred kids there, Ivan.”
“Don’t need to worry,”
says Ivan. “You’ve got me.” Read More