MILLING AROUND

I have a meeting next week.  I'm a little uncertain what the subject of the meeting is going to be, so to prep myself for all possible topics, I take a trip to the local teacher store.

I'm not overly fond of the teacher store.  I find it full of random workbooks and lots of hands-on manipulatives; basically, an elementary teacher's dream (or nightmare).  I used to go there mainly to get bulletin board paper and posters for the walls.

Today, though, I am on a reconnaissance mission to discover information to bring with me to the meeting.  I pore through the somewhat outdated texts and try to take in as much sensory information as my brain will absorb without imploding.  In the end, I walk away with a new plan book for the upcoming year.

There is one thing about the teacher store, that never fails to grab my attention, and that is its building.  It used to be in a giant old mill building, off an unmarked hallway, in the bowels of a brick labyrinth.  Now it is located a few miles north, away from the mighty Merrimack River, in a completely different mill building.

I love the old mill buildings.  I am as fascinated as I am horrified that many of the old brick mills around the Merrimack Valley are being turned into apartments.  Part of me wants to live in the old Boott Cotton Mill; part of me recalls the story of the mill girl who fell in an open stairwell, plummeting several stories to her death.  I'd be wary of spectral visitors.    I used to work in an old mill with a basement floor that sat in the mucky and watery banks of the Shawsheen River.  Going downstairs to use the bathroom also meant scaring the river rats off the landing so I could tinkle quickly and get back to work (or riding the giant wooden and steel pallets down the hardwood ramps).

The old mills are incredible architectural masterpieces, though.  This new building has preserved the floorboards, the slat-wood stairs, and the brickwork of the interior walls.  The architect also made sure to preserve several pieces of machinery and, in the process, pieces of history.

I may not have all the information I need for my upcoming meeting, but I feel empowered by my mill store mission.  Even if the present makes me anxious and the future boggles my mind, the past will bring itself with me to act as a buffer for anything I'm tossed.  I'll steal past examples, use references to past practice, and use my own past track record to survive.

Meeting is next Monday.  I'll let you know how it goes.