BY JOHN COSCETTE
The Bus Stop
I had purchased a new pair of shoes last weekend and as I was inside the store, trying them on, and I could smell that “new shoe” aroma.
This polished scent transported me back to the days of school. You see, we would always get a new pair of dress shoes for school and even though I loved the smell of new shoes, I never did like going to school. My father, on the other hand, held an opposing view on the matter. “My son loves school so much, that he goes to school throughout the year!”
He would say this because he was upset that I had to go to summer school. My attention span just wasn’t made for studying in a classroom. As a young boy, I would do everything in my power to not go to school… with the exception of this one time.
I’m not so sure why I was in such an arrogant mood that morning but it had to have been something. As I am ready to walk outside to the bus stop, my older sister stops me. “Hey, where are you going?” She asked in a stern voice.
She then handed me a V-neck sweater to wear and I looked at her in defiance and stated “I’m not wearing that crummy sweater.”
Look, I had to wear a uniform as it was and I hated to even wear the tie. What made her think that I would wear a sweater that would purposely show off that grey and maroon plaid tie. “Nope! I’m not wearing it!” I said as I stood my ground. My sister knew that I was a bit of a wild kid, so she called my Uncle Bob over for assistance.
My Uncle Bob was my father’s older brother who had been staying with us at our home in New York. Uncle Bob moved slow because he was a big guy and as a kid, he could be a very frightful person. I saw a shadow fall over me as my uncle approached.
“Put your sweater on.” He grumbled in a low and firm tone. I stood there in the corner and stretched that itchy V-neck sweater over my angry face. Nobody ever talked back to an adult in my house when I was growing up and most definitely, not back to my uncle.
Now, maybe I woke up on the proverbial “wrong side of the bed,” perhaps this ten-year-old didn’t have his coffee yet, or maybe it was just my attitude but whatever it was… it made me do the unthinkable. I stepped outside and turned around to see my older sister with a slight grin on her face. I stopped dead in my tracks, spun around, ripped off that sweater, and threw it at my uncle and sister. They both looked at me in shock and I couldn’t believe what I had just done. I then ran like hell to catch that school bus!
I always could run fast. I was the fastest thing on two legs and sometimes thought that I could out-run a car, if I set my mind to it. I was at the bus stop in a millisecond because that morning I wanted to be on that bus. I looked back at the house and to my amazement saw a cumbersome figure walking towards me followed by my siblings. Uncle Bob was walking to the bus stop carrying the sweater. My Uncle never walked anywhere… “I’m dead” I said to myself.
My uncle was moving fast that morning and I knew if he had gotten his big Italian hands on me, I would have been murdered with that sweater. I decided that it would be best to run up the block where the driver would pick up her first stop. As I began to run, I saw the yellow bus coming down the avenue, so I picked up my pace and arrived before the bus driver closed the door.
I jumped on the bus and sunk low into one of the seats as the bus started to rumble up to the other stop. I am not sure of the rules and regulations of driving a school bus in the 70’s but I’m sure there was a clause in there to prevent angry family members aboard the bus. The bus stopped and I started to see my brothers and sisters come up the steps.
“Please God, please don’t let him come up the steps” I secretly prayed. I was trapped on the bus and there was no place for me to run, as I saw Uncle Bob’s head rising from the steps. As I spied behind one of the tall green seats, I saw the fear of the lady driving the bus. She kind of looked like a cat being confronted by a large dog.
She never said a word as she backed up into her seat and pushed the little fan in her window, out by accident. As my uncle climbed the steps, he stopped and gave my sweater to one of my siblings “Here, have your brother put this on,” and he headed back down the steps.
I remember looking out the window as the bus rolled past him as the driver sped away. It was the only time I wanted to go to school and I think that bus driver never came back to our neighborhood nor did she even come back for her fan.
John Coscette is a native New Yorker now living in the south. He arrived in Prattville with his family around 15 years ago and has taken that time to keep up his skills in Italian cooking, but also learn some of the rich culture of the South, including the food. His stories of growing up, and his take on life in general, are genuine and heart felt. We will be sharing his columns from time to time, and believe you will truly enjoy them.
We welcome reader’s submissions! You can email them to Sarah Stephens at editorsarah@yahoo.com.
