Bus Stop – On The Street Where You Live…

Perhaps you recall, perhaps not, a time when responsible parents didn’t worry about marauding hordes of terrorists, sex traffickers, priests, boy scout leaders, etc. plucking their children from a cul-de-sac water balloon fight with the neighbor’s kids and shipping them off to sweat shops in Indonesia. I grew up in these simpler times, we felt safe back then.  The recollection of those days is a small blessing in and of itself. It’s an obvious assessment that the world is less safe today and parents more cautious with their children’s safety (although I wonder if Bobby Crum’s parents opted to not report his disappearance in favor of a quieter and less toy strewn home? Hmm, maybe Bobby didn’t move by himself to Disneyworld at age 6 as his parents suggested???)

Regardless, the point is, parents felt safe allowing their children, unattended by adults, to roam free about the neighborhood in their pursuit of an idyllic childhood. Even though I had, in the parlance of those yesteryears, a ‘worrywart” of a father, this sense of security was pervasive and no one, it seemed, gave a child’s safety a second thought.

In that spirit, some interesting childhood tales were created. Here is one such story – The School Bus Incident.

As a new student of Sherman Oaks elementary, first grade, I was to take the bus at the corner of my street, Woodcrest Drive and whatever the name of the cross street was. To ensure I knew how the process worked, my mother stood with me the first two times to make sure I knew the corner, the bus number, the bus driver and most importantly, the time the bus was to arrive. I assured my mom after these trial runs that I got it and was ready to fly from the nest, solo!

On my first bus riding independent sojourn, I walked by myself to the appointed spot that I had rehearsed with mom several times. I was proud that I was the first to make it to the stop before any other kids, I took that as a sign of maturity and responsibility that those late arrivers simply didn’t possess. I stood there in anticipation and pride. This was it – the big time!

After a short while, I watched leaves float by in the gutter. I watched cars coming and going. I even re-tied my shoes several times. Most importantly, I became more proudful realizing my punctuality brought me to the bus stop much earlier than I even realized at first. I was a very responsible young boy indeed. I would become known as the most responsible bus riding student there ever was. From this moment forward, the attribute of patience was born within me and still exists to this day.

What I didn’t entertain or even understand at that point of life was that young kids are “cut and dried” with their understanding of situations. They don’t make allowances for shall we say, circumstantial variability. Once they learn a routine, to them it is ironclad and immutable. The bus was coming. I just didn’t know exactly when – but certainly within my lifetime.

At some point, my mom needed to do some shopping at the Westward Ho Grocery store. She got into her red Chevrolet Corvair at the top of the street and started her way down. The empty bus stop she was to pass along the way would be a reminder that her precious son made it to school on his own, how satisfying to be the mother of one so responsible.

As she passed by, I was thrilled! I waved excitedly to prove my strength of character and diligence in waiting for that bus. I thought, ‘See mom, you had nothing to worry about. I’m still here with the discipline of a soldier. Come hell or high water, I am patiently standing here, ready for that bus to show at any moment. Any moment. Come on bus. Any moment.’

Mom performed an amazing pit maneuver that day. I didn’t know she had it in her to do a ‘donut’ in the street and burn rubber like an Andretti or Gurney. Her face had a combined  look of horror mixed with a healthy dose of disbelief. Turns out, my dedication to stay the course, like a mini 3rd U.S. Infantry Regiment soldier guarding the tomb of the Unknown, went slightly askew. I had, in fact, stood at the bus stop so long, the school day was more than half over. I had missed the bus to begin with and my intense pride quickly turned to embarrassment.

Mom hugged me through tears of affection and laughter and then explained to me the concept of sizing up a situation and If it doesn’t pass the smell test, to trust in my instincts. I think mom let me play hooky the rest of that day probably to save me from lengthy explanations regarding my tardiness. Thanks mom!

Today I consider myself very intuitive and analytical. But I’ll be damned if I will ever wait for a school bus again.