Today I continue my quest in creating and posting one block a day of the fabulous That Town And Country Quilt by the lovely Susan Claire. This is day one hundred and twenty of that project.

This quilt block shows a shortened fence, just two posts on either side of the center building. The center building is tall, two story, with a bright red triangular roof. On the front above the blue door and light yellow buildings is a sign that says, — Click To Enlarge

Here is Granby Elementary.

I actually started school in a different building that later became our town hall. A man named Marvin Heemeyer knocked it down with a bulldozer in 2004, but that’s another story.

I started kindergarten when I was four years old and turned five a couple of months later. I was not bussed, so I went to the afternoon session.

The kids who came from surrounding towns went in the morning. I got into trouble one day when the principal called my mother and told her she had to not leave so early for class because I was causing the bus to have to leave late.

“Why!?” You might wonder.

It was because I insisted on kissing every little boy goodbye before he got on the bus. (It’s okay to roll your eyes now.)

My Grandfather on my mother’s side was the principal of Granby Elementary for 35 years. His name was Oliver Cress. His wife Martha was a 3rd-grade teacher.

They moved to Colorado from Kentucky when their seven children were small. After their first winter here, he made sure all his kids had skis, and all were great skiers. One was an olympian, and several competed on national teams.

Let’s get back to the subject of Granby Elementary.

Every morning when I would get to school, I first got in line right outside the principal’s office to give our lunch money to the lady who kept track of who had paid for lunch.

Every day I would put a nickel, dime, and quarter on a counter that I had to reach a long way up for. $.40 was the price of hot lunch.

My Grandfather was a great guy. One of my husband’s favorite stories about him was when a pair of dogs were mating one spring and got “hung up” on the playground. All of us kids were stock still giggling and watching these dogs.

Suddenly, Mr. Cress came out the front door yelling, “Dadburn it, Dadburn it!” and throwing ball bearings at these dogs.

He was a relatively short, stocky man; every time he’d throw one, his feet would come off the ground. We were giggling harder at Mr. Cress by now.

The poor dogs couldn’t get unhooked fast enough. I think they actually managed to run off together, still coupled.

Those were the good old days.