Life’s Lessons are Rarely Learned in a Classroom

The charred cross at Pots Rock wasn’t the only burning cross I was to see….

Our neighborhood had a gazillion kids. 

Okay, I exaggerate for emphasis, but there were a lot of kids.

One year we all decided a good way to celebrate the end of the school year would be by burning our notebooks.

The perfect place to do this was at the end of the block where the brook was.  

There weren’t any houses there yet and just in case the bonfire got out of hand water would be readily available.

The plan was set and we all agreed, on the last day of school, to meet at the end of the block.

We came out of our houses and one by one trudged down the block. 

One became three, became seven, became thirteen until we were a mob of kids.

As we crested the hill we all looked towards the brook and there, to our horror, was a BURNING CROSS!

All I saw next were loose leaf papers flying through the air like giant snowflakes as we threw up our notebooks and went running to our homes.

It would have been really comical if it hadn’t been so disturbing.