Getting a Lift Home

by
Rick Brown

Prologue:

Like most 17-year olds hailing from the Cleveland area in the mid 1960s, I had acquired a keen sense of loyalty to the area, its celebrities, sports teams, friends … and yes … at times even family. Clevelanders were a defensive bunch back then, enduring endless jokes about “The Mistake on the Lake”. The sometimes-blind loyalty remains prevalent to this day. (Think Browns’ fans.) My hometown, Olmsted Falls, and its schools at the time … excelled more in the arts and academics than athletics. Still … I was true to my school … even voted “Most School Spirited” my senior year. This is a little story with a big heart … about why loyalty meant so much back then.

And again today.

It was a dreary mid autumn night. I was at an “away game” rooting for the Bulldogs. At halftime the cause was already lost. My friends and schoolmates on the team were getting pummeled. The guys I had ridden with to the game were anxious to leave for a scene more exciting. And even at the ripe old age of 17 I knew there wasn’t one. So I told them I’d be more than happy to grab a seat on the big yellow school bus taking loyal fans back to our high school. There I could wait with my 2 brothers … also at the game … for our dad to pick us up.

Once the final gun mercifully ended a depressing blowout, I got in the line snaking into the big, belching yellow bus’s accordion doors. People were chatting serenely out of respect for a team that lost yet another game while deserving better.

As I climbed the steps into this monster of mass transit, I realized there were very few seats remaining. So I grabbed one about three rows back on the aisle. I was amongst people I didn’t really know but realized it was only a 15 or 20 minute drive back. I sat staring out the side window watching the opposing team’s celebration when I heard a soft, friendly voice.

“May I sit on your lap?”

It was Nancy … a dark-haired beauty with a smile that lit up the bus. I barely knew her really. I was aware she was very nice … and popular … for all the right reasons. But before I could offer to stand … give her my seat … be a gentleman … she gingerly sat down.

“Thanks Rick!”

I muttered something like, “Uh … duh … wah.”

My social skills apparently had not boarded the bus with me.

She simply smiled.

Then suddenly this goofy, scrawny boy sitting directly in front of Nancy and I whipped around and stared at us.

“Don’t forget to talk about the first thing that POPS UP!!”

He chortled cynically at his own locker room joke as he turned away.

I thought “What a little weasel.”

Nancy rolled her eyes and smiled reassuringly at me.

We chit chatted a bit about school and losing football games and nothing in particular. Even the silence was comfortable. And after we arrived at our destination she thanked me and filed off the bus ahead of me.

I can’t honestly say we became friends after that. We ran in different circles. And we’d greet each other in the hallways. But I held that fond memory close … until now … until writing it down. And I will always savor the 15 minutes of genuine grace … and trust … that transpired that autumn night on a big yellow school bus. It’s a rarity in this life.

If it happens in high school … it’s a cherished gem.

Epilogue:

Finally … after more than 40 years of convincing myself I was an “outsider” in Olmsted Falls’ Class of 1970 … I attended a reunion. I needed to reclaim my loyalty. It felt good to come home. It felt even better to re-establish relationships … to become genuine friends after all the years.

And one of the very best of those friends … is Nancy.