Birdhouse Hunting Pt 2: A slight detour in Burgessville

The Yamaha Virago 1100 drove like a champion - during my little birdhouse hunting adventure yesterday - and the corn curling broom in my back kept me sitting up straight and my mind alert.

After snapping pictures of Nick Nickerson’s collection of colourful birdhouses in Salford, I headed east toward Holbrook, then east on highway 59 toward Burgessville (population 750?), my first hometown.


[“The above sign stands on the site of the Burgessville Co-op”: photos by GH]

Though I had at least two solid plans for the day (look for birdhouses, and drop off corn broom at Rick Lees’ house), two more items got pencilled in as soon as I saw someone working behind my first childhood home (“I’ll drop in and introduce myself”) and noticed cars in the driveway of the two-room schoolhouse I attended for part of my Grade 1 year (“I want to see if my desk is still there. Hey, the school is now a museum. Maybe my first math assignment will be on display”).


I parked in the school/museum’s gravel lane and rang the doorbell.

Moments later the door was opened by a young woman. She looked at me somewhat quizzically.

“Hi,” I said. “I used to live in this village. In fact, just 3 or 4 doors down (I pointed over my shoulder). This was my first school, and I was wondering...”

“Would you like to come inside?” she asked. “I’m just getting ready for next week’s summer school program and you’re welcome to look around.”

Wow. I was so happy! Words poured from my mouth as she led me toward my first classroom and explained one or two things she knew about the old school.

“Look,” I spluttered. “The coat hooks are still here. That fountain (in the one center hallway) wasn’t there (in 1955). This room is so small! My row was right here!”


[“Virginia - bell in hand - sits at Miss Dixon’s small, sturdy desk”]

We eventually introduced ourselves to one another and Virginia, from Curries (another wee hamlet north of Burgessville, also on highway 59), showed me a recently-built replica of a full classroom inside my own first classroom, and then the well-preserved classroom that my older sisters had attended just across the hall.


[“I learned I was one assignment short of Gr. 1 graduation. My career is a sham!”]

What a treat.


[“I once leaned through the arched opening and rang the hand bell to signal the end of recess. A big thrill!]

Because I had other items on a growing agenda (“Deliver corn broom to Rick”) I decided to cut my visit short. But I will return.

***

Scary. I remember so much about my first school.

At another time I’ll tell you why my mother had to drag me home from school for lunch.

And how I helped Rhonda Wettlaufer through a hard time.

.