page 37:"Soon we were passing through towns whose baseball teams I had booed, whose cheerleaders I might recognize, whose Presbyterian youth fellowships had attended our synod conferences. I even welcomed the swinging signposts at the tiny stations we whipped past, because they bore names I recognized: Mechanichsville, Belle Plaine, Tama, State Center. As our train meandered through the center of larger towns, I saw people on the streets who looked like people in Ames, doing their shopping, driving their cars, or standing at corners. Most of them didn't notice us, and I was aware how removed they were from the excitement I felt. Of course, they couldn't know I was going home. I was glad to see the store signs, Sears, Super Valu, Our Own Hardware; I liked the new developments with their tract ramblers dotting the edges of town; I wanted to wave at an old brick school that looked just like Louise Crawford Elementary, back in Ames."
This simple paragraph is an example after the heart of both me and my favorite teacher of all time, John Forssman. He taught us to use concrete language, and a Nickle word rather than a dollar word. Concrete, specific language, indeed.
My kids spent their elementary years at Crawford Elementary. It has long closed, and been turned into apartments for seniors. The beat goes on.