The boys and I were waiting at a traffic light to turn onto the street that takes us home when we saw a fire engine driving toward us on that same street. Henry commented that the fire engine must be coming from George’s house because George was probably burning something he shouldn’t be burning.

George fought Cassius Clay in 1962. George lives next door to us on five acres that are now surrounded by multiple subdivisions. George’s property is grandfathered in (or something like that) and he is allowed to do things the rest of us can’t, like keep horses and burn stuff. Except there are still some restrictions on how and what George can burn. Sometimes George forgets the rules and a few weeks ago three firemen stopped by to remind him.

I asked Henry why he thought George might be burning something and Henry replied that George is old school, which is true. George is old school. He is as old school as they come. Henry went on to say that we are old school too.

We are? How is that?

Well, because we live in an old farm house, we live by a ditch, and so does George. We have chickens and a chicken coop and flies. Everywhere.

I am not quite sure what the boys think old school means. They both use it correctly and incorrectly to describe things daily. However, if you have flies, and if they are everywhere, I would go ahead and classify yourself as old school. It would be totally accurate.



Speaking of old school, the boys are rockin' some pretty awesome Vans these days.