There's always a joke that kids will celebrate when school burns. That's not the reality. The school where my mother taught most of her career has been destroyed by arson. Age has wiped away most of her memory, but I can't help feeling a little sad that hallways where her footsteps echoed for many years are gone.
I never attended there, but we lived within walking distance when I was a kid. We used to stroll there in the late afternoons. I once found a discarded Hardy Boys novel on the campus and I think I still have it.
I went to a lot of functions with her also. She took me to a play called The Guy From Venus that was put on by the drama department in the '60s. Later I would see the guy who played the alien drive past our house on his way to classes every morning, and it was like seeing a celebrity.
Most of her time was spent in a free-standing home economics building, but faculty meetings and other matters took her to the main building frequently.
One more marker that time marches on.