Extreme re-purposing – turning a funeral home into a preschool

A notice appeared in the newspaper saying the old funeral home had been sold and would become a preschool.  That building’s been there for decades.  It’s handsome, the way those places always used to be.  It was vacant for a long time but the grounds around it were always manicured.

 

Our town has experienced a population boom-let in the under-5-year-old category and every preschool has a long waiting list, so though it seemed odd at first, making use of this well-situated property does make sense.  Still it’s quite a stretch to imagine this place changing so far from one point in the circle of life to the extreme other.

 

The construction permit was taped to the heavy door, then the orange cones and heavy equipment arrived. The parking lot concrete left in trucks but the building remained intact.  Those leaded windows could stand replacing and how they’d reconfigure remained a mystery.  It still looked more funeral home than preschool.

 

I returned from an overnight trip and all of a sudden bright blue playground equipment had appeared, rising up from the very spot where people used to enter in a hearse at the end of life.

 

A giant blue jungle gym, blue slides and swings changed everything.  With these in place, the real promise of the project is already realized. For the next however-long this incarnation lasts, it’s gone from a place for sadness to a smile-inducing destination.  From stately to noisy is the perfect re-purposing.

 

Ó Anita Garner 2009

 

 

Toddlers rewrite everything.

By Anita Garner

While I drive, the little girl in my life sings me some songs.  In the middle of lyrics about, say, the wheels on the bus going round and round, she tosses in a line or two from adult songs she’s heard.  Songs about heartache or other grown-up feelings.  It’s always a surprise to hear which phrases resonate with her.  A typical re-write goes like this:

“The wheels on the bus go ’round and ’round.

And my heart misses you forever and I want you to come back right now.”

When she’s not singing, she tells me stories.  She draws in a big breath, indicating something dramatic is about to occur, and begins,

“Awe duh sodden.”

It takes a couple of seconds to figure out the words, but her emphasis helps.

Ohhh.  “All of a sudden…”

What follows are a whole bunch of sentences, spilling out in a rush, about three pigs or Belle from Beauty & The Beast, or Cinderella or Spiderman.  She starts off fairly true to the version she’s heard, then changes direction and lays down a new plot point.  Something like,

“And Cinderella stayed in the little house and the wuff couldn’t blow it down.”

Just as she’s hooked me with this twist, she announces,

“The end.”

I teach her songs from my own musical library.  She likes a song to fit into a category.  If you don’t clarify, she’ll ask what kind of song is this?  On the way to school, I say,

“Let’s sing a morning song.”

She’s fine with that.

I start with a tune from Annie Get Your Gun (not too subtly trying to teach  some Broadway tunes)

“Got no diamonds, got no pearls.

Still I think I’m a lucky girl.

I’ve got the sun in the morning and the moon at night

And with the sun in the morning and the moon in the evening, I’m all right.”

She can only take this much before the urge to re-write hits her.  She says she will now sing that song for me. Away she goes,  with an approximation of the melody and a new version of the lyrics,

“I don’t have any jewels.  I’m not happy.”

Terse.   To the point.

Irving Berlin it’s not, but it’s not bad either.  With the pre-schooler rewriting, a Broadway show would be over in about 15 minutes.

Ó Anita Garner 2009