Replies

The School Bus Driver Story Editor:
By Patty Mooney Joyce Schowalter
California, USA

It's been many years since I have had to stand on the end of Pusheck
Road in Bellwood, a suburb of Chicago, waiting for the school bus, and
yet I remember one special day as though it were yesterday.

It was the Spring of 1963, and I was attending second grade at St.
Simeon's Elementary School. Every morning my mom would pack up a bagged
lunch for me, usually a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with an apple
for dessert.

On this particular day when I reached the corner, I set my lunch down
on the sidewalk in order to shift my school books to a more comfortable
position in my arms (these were pre-backpack times!) By the time the
school bus lurched to a halt before me, I had forgotten all about my
lunch and stepped aboard, leaving my brown bag behind.

By the time I realized my lunch was missing, we were already pulling
in to the school parking lot. I started to cry. The bus driver, whose
name I have since forgotten, asked me, "What's wrong?"

I spilled my story about having left my lunch back at the bus stop.
He patted me on the shoulder and said, "Don't you worry about a thing."
I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, and looked at him doubtfully.
After all, what could he do? The school bell started to jangle and I
hurried on to class.

I was involved in coloring in an outline of Lincoln's head -- bright
green -- when the school secretary arrived at the door of our classroom.
She handed the teacher something in a small brown paper sack.

After the secretary departed, the teacher walked over to me carrying
the sack. With a note of surprise, she said, "This is for you from the
bus driver!" It was not the same bag my mother had sent me off to school
with. It was just about time for lunch, and I could not wait to look
inside.

To this day, I still remember the wonders that lay inside that
special package: a deviled ham salad sandwich, an orange, and two
chocolate chip cookies. At the time, I didn't put two and two together,
but later I realized the driver had given me his own lunch. He had seen
the angst of a little girl in a plaid uniform, and reacted to save her.
He had selflessly shared his affection for deviled ham! For 40 years I
have been grateful for his kindness.