Back in the 80s in Ivy, back before Murray Elementary got
its shiny rebirth as Virginia L. Murray, we used to sweat out the school year well
into June’s heat and humidity. The teachers would wheel in a massive television
on a cart, pull down the blinds, and in the absence of air conditioning we’d
fold paper fans out of construction paper while we shifted our weight to
unstick our thighs from the plastic seats.
For
my siblings and me, however, a sweet, cool relief awaited us as soon as that
final bell rang. That’s when we were released to the custody of our bus driver,
Harold Barbour, who stood waiting for us beside bus number 123.
No,
the bus didn’t have air conditioning, either. Those June days meant Harold
would drive down Morgantown Road to the Ivy Store where he would park the bus
and go in while we poked our heads out the slide-down windows, panting. Harold
would return from the store with his trademark ear-to-ear grin and an armload
of popsicles.
These
were no-frills popsicles: a plain white wrapper, one solid flavor, no jokes on
the stick or cartoon characters to do their marketing. Sometimes they were
stuck to the inside wrapper and you’d have to pull the stick out of the
half-melted slush and spoon out your treat. Root beer was my favorite, blue—you
know, the flavor “blue”—a close second.
Harold paid for the popsicles out of his own public-school bus driver
salary. He got only “thank yous” in return. At least, I hope he did. The taste
of those popsicles, the mere receipt of such a perfect refreshment on a sweltering
day is never far from my memory, even 30 years later.
That
was far from the end of Harold’s generosity. At Christmas time there were
footlong candy canes for each rider on his bus. On the last day of school you
would get a soda—a whole can just for you!—and you would even get to place your
order the previous day. I always chose Dr. Pepper; my brother favored Mt. Dew.
Harold treated all of us like his own kids. We were safe with him and happy
during the thirty to forty minutes he took care of us down the winding roads of
Ivy’s neighborhoods.
When
I was in fifth grade, my last year with Harold at the helm, I had an emergency
appendectomy that landed me in the hospital, and off the bus. Who was my only
visitor outside of my family? Of course it was Harold. He sat with us, made me
laugh, and told me to hurry up and get better so I could get back on the bus.
My
life has taken me far from the twisting roads of Ivy to the bustling streets of
Chicago. Even here, the news reached me of the devastating and fatal floods
that swept through my hometown a few weeks ago. And then I learned that
Harold’s house was among those damaged by the storm.
Luckily,
my memories aren’t the only ones of Harold’s kindness. His family’s gofundme is
bringing more than 40 years of lucky children out to thank their bus driver and
friend again for the unending acts of kindness that he extended to us when we
were small. We want to see him rebuild. We don’t want that smile erased.
Because
we didn’t know back then the harsh realities we would someday face. We didn’t
know about the unfairness and the struggles of hospital stays and natural
disasters. We just knew someone, a very special someone, took us to and from
our school every day, and sometimes he gave us a popsicle. And we never, ever
forgot about him.
You can read more about the flood and the damage to Harold's home by clicking here: http://www.nbc29.com/story/38391565/flood-waters-destroy-family-home-in-ivy-area
If you feel inspired to donate money, even the price of a popsicle, click here: https://www.gofundme.com/help-the-barbours-rebuild
