It’s 4:00 in the afternoon and I’m standing in a long line of people waiting for a ride. It’s noisy and chaotic. I’m just excited to be heading home. My driver’s name is Shirley and she’s picking me up in a green Ford truck.
Everyone around me is finding their ride and heading out, but I’m still waiting. Before long, I’m the only one.
Shirley is nowhere to be found. I realize in that moment that I’m all alone and on my own.
And I’m not in the rideshare lot at an airport. I’m seven years old, waiting for Shirley to pick me up by the flagpole of Guin Foss Elementary School.
Getting to and from school is an ordeal even though we live a quarter of a mile from Guin Foss. Both of my parents work and rely on my grandma to provide before and after school care.
Under normal circumstances, my parents would let me walk to school but since my little brother is just three, my mom drops us off at grandma’s every morning and I get a ride from there. It’s about two miles from the school. The challenge is that grandma can’t drive. She did it once and lost control of the car, crashing right out the backside of her garage. Now she refuses to get behind the wheel.
At first my parents arrange for a taxi to pick me up. It’s a little embarrassing being dropped off and picked up at school in a cab, plus it’s expensive, so my parents eventually find Shirley.
Shirley is likely in her 30s and is a bit of a dingbat. She has a couple of kids of her own and the routine is for her to pick me up at grandma’s in the morning, drop me off at school, and then return to pick me up by the flagpole each afternoon to bring me back to grandma’s house.
Except on this day.
Realizing that nobody is picking me up and no one is around to help, I weigh my options.
I could just walk to my house, crawl in through the dog door and wait for my parents, but they would have no way of knowing I was there. Everyone is expecting me at grandma’s house. Especially grandma, who is a worrywart beyond compare.
I decide my best course of action is to simply walk to grandma’s house. My singular goal is to reach grandma.
Strangely, I’m not afraid. Not in the least. I’m actually excited. This will be an adventure. I just need to do it carefully.
The two-mile journey will take me along two major roads and I’d have to cross busy highways three times. As I walk down Vanderlip Avenue, past Cameron Lane, the street I live on, I’m nervously anticipating the first big crossing. Across Newport Avenue. Four lanes of fast-moving traffic.
There is a crossing guard, but I avoid him. I’m too embarrassed and worried he will stop me and ask why I’m out there by myself. I walk down further, wait for the traffic to lighten, then make a mad dash across the street.
Me with my little brother Marshall, right about the time of this story.
I conquered the first obstacle.
I continue to walk down Newport anticipating the next crossing. I’d have to navigate an even busier Irvine Blvd. I walk past the Kyoto Nursery, a cool place with Koi fishponds that will eventually be razed and replaced by the Tustin Lanes bowling alley. Soon I pass the lot that will house Mercury Savings, the place I’ll have my first bank account and later first ATM. That’s where I cross.
The shopping center across the street has a Ralph’s grocery store, a Save-On Drug Store, and Linbrook Hardware, which my mom embarrassedly dragged me out of a month or so earlier by my ear when I loudly observed “Hey mom, look at that fat man over there.”
There is a crosswalk here, so I take advantage of it and continue my journey.
I’m not tired. In fact, I’m enjoying this. I have only two fears. Crossing the last busy street at Red Hill Avenue and, strangely enough, having Shirley find me now. I want to do this myself!
I get to Red Hill Avenue and again take advantage of a crosswalk. Now it’s a straight shot to grandma’s house. Maybe a half mile or so. I’m almost there! I pass a stand of Eucalyptus trees, noting their thin, peeling bark and the distinct smell of the leaves.
And then, coming the opposite direction, I see Shirley’s truck. She slows down as she sees me, then speeds up to make a U-turn. She drives up apologizing profusely. I disappointedly get in the truck, and she has me at grandma’s in about two minutes.
I get out of the truck and Shirley walks up to tell grandma what happened.
Grandma gives Shirley an ass-chewing of biblical proportions. “How could you forget my grandson?” she asks over and over.
When she leaves, I assure grandma I’m fine. I tell my mom it was a fun adventure. That’s how I saw it.
That’s how I still see it today. It was the first time I was put to the test, and I passed with flying colors.
I was rewarded the next day when Shirley took me for ice cream at the Tasty-Freeze after school, but honestly, the real reward was the confidence my adventure gave me. Confidence that enabled me to face down plenty of ambiguous situations growing up.
Confidence that I relied on when I left home, facing the uncertainty of being stationed overseas.
Confidence to navigate flying for the first time, to Australia, without any Australian money or credit cards.
Confidence to know what to do when the Milwaukee airport closed down due to flooding rain, and I had to share a cab with four strangers to find lodging for the night.
Confidence to hitch a ride from the Altoona airport to town when the rental car place was inexplicably closed.
Confidence to navigate the airports in Shanghai and Rzeszow, Poland where few people spoke English.
Confidence to change flight arrangements on a dime when flights are canceled or delayed.
And finally, the confidence to not panic at the first sight of trouble. To handle it by focusing on the main outcome (I just need to get to grandma’s house) just like I did way back in 1972.
I’m glad I had this experience when I was young. I’m glad I learned from this experience. It has benefitted me immensely over the years.
What was your big adult moment you had as a child?
Are you still benefitting from it today?