Keepsake

Hello. My name is Mary Beth. I am a registered nurse. When I decided to take part-time work as a school crossing guard I felt that I had taken an interesting job. I was right. I imagined that it would be fun.
I was wrong; my job was no fun...at first.

We live and we learn. Experience will teach us every time. During the first year of working outside,
rain, shine, sleet, and snow, my enthusiastic feelings gradually changed. My job made me feel like I was a fire hydrant in the dogs' pound.

No. Not because of the weather. But it was because of the motorist that I had to direct.
Somebody. Anybody. Please. Help me. Pray tell. How else can my children cross the streets and get to and from school safely?

Protecting my school-bound children is my calling; It is my concern. it's my obligation, my desire, and my responsibility. With this I will continually comply.

As my children arrive at my school crossing I survey all traffic activity. Waving a bright-red sign with big white letters signifying...S.T.O.P...I walk cautiously to the middle of the intersection.

There I stretch out my palm with a stiff arm. Seeing all traffic stopped; I signal my children to cross. I do what I'm trained to do. I air my S.T.O.P. sign. I signal traffic to stop.

People stop: but their complaining starts where they stop. Most of them sit gazing at me through their windshields showing resentment by gloomy silence. Others frown and shake their heads with disapproval.

Some turn up their noses and stare into space to avoid eye contact. Tension seems to ooze from the grumbling sounds of their engines as people wait for me to get my (censored) butt out of their way.

One quirk tossed a crabby smirk and pinched his nostrils. Am I having fun yet?

Talk about road rage. I have long ago learned that some people stop; not because they care for my safeguarding of my children. But because they feel that they have no choice. And that it's my fault that they have to stop, against their will. I've been called every kind of B, but a honey B.

There is but one four letter word that I haven't heard out there. L.O.V.E.

My boss often asks me this same question.
"How are you today, Mary Beth?"

I assert my same answer.
"This is the day that our Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it,
in spite of all negative circumstances."

"You're a plus for this organization, young lady.
We're fortunate to have you with us, Mary Beth."

"This organization is a plus foe me, Sir,
It helps me help our children. They need to know that somebody loves them.
It's important for adults to let them know that it is us who love them. And teach Jesus' love to them."

"You hold our children at high esteem. I admire that in you, lady."
"I do, Sir. Jesus said that the greatest person in His Kingdom is one who becomes like a child."
My boss took a sip of his coffee, offered me a sip, and gave me a donut.

"Truer words are never spoken, Mary. You've captured my heart."
It is Jesus who has captured your heart, Mr. Matthews. I'm just a vessel that he works through."

Each morning when I leave his office to report to my school crossing location he watches me from his window. As I get into my car his hand waves admiration toward me. His smile is too wide for his window.
So he slides it up and pokes his head out.

"Give my regards to our children, Mary."

That's who he calls me when I talk to him about Jesus. As I wave back to him I try, but I never manage to smile my smile as wide as his.

I have to drive pass our school house on my way to my crossing location. Talk about early birds. It's interesting how many of my children are already there. I see most of them scurrying about the yard.
A twelve feet high weaved-wire fence doesn't seem to be capable of containing them there.
Many of them ramble to and fro outside the fence and along the sidewalks.

They all know and like me. Waving hands flutter briskly on air as my car coast by. Girls shriek.
"EeeeeK! Look! It's Miss Mary Beth. Good Mooorning, Miss Mary Beth."

Boys hang on mute. What's up? I ponder. Well...there are thumbs up. There are power sign fist up.
Pants are....oh well...spirits are up. Loud laughter and babbling chatter is up.

My time to arrive is up. I'm closer than near. Mary Beth is here. I slip into my saggy bright-yellow vest.
Bold black capital letters, CROSSING GUARD, are printed across my back. I grab my big red sign off the back seat by it's handle, adjust my navy-blue guardian cap, take a sweet sneak peek in my compact mirror. I'm good to Go!

It's time for me to watch my children watch me watch motorist watch me. This is a description of my job;
courtesy of one of my children.

"They'd better," she said with a chuckle, "Right, Miss Mary Beth?"
"Oh...uh...sure thing I'm sure," I replied.
After pondering her lingo for a while I've managed to unscramble it. "You're right," I assure her.

I belong here. So they might as well get used to me. I'm not wrong here, Yet ...I feel that some people aren't very fond of me. It appears that they don't care about anyone but themselves.

Certainly some of these people are relatives of these children. Then some of them aren't even from our neighborhood. So do they give a rat's tail about us? Think, NO.

They're like...let the kids wait. Not me. I'm in a hurry.
Some people just sit there with empty eyes set in hollow heads. At times they appear to be angry with my children. To spite them they honk their horns to alarm them. But my children wrapped in their frolicsome merriment don't even notice them.

Blackjack is a nickname of a police officer friend of mine. While on patrol he comes by several times to say hello to me. He stops his cruiser in the middle of the intersection when I'm there directing heavy traffic.
With traffic buzzing all about me he gives me a sharp high-pitched beep from his siren and calls out to me.

"Hey! Lady! You got bumpers on your bottom?"
I amble over and poke my nose on his window.

"I don't need bumpers on my bottom. You've got them on your squad cruiser. And I've got you."
"Don't you ever doubt that, Mary Beth. And I'm just a cell phone call away."

With red, white, and blue lights flickering he steps out of his cruiser, starts doing my directing and says.

"After this congestion has cleared up a bit, I'll stop by the deli. Say what you like."
"Coffee, plenty creamer, plenty sweet, and a sugar cookie, as usual."
"Your desire is my treat. How are these knuckle heads treating you today?"

"Can any of them give us a reasonable answer as to why they're so stubborn?
Hey. It's not about them, you, or me. It's all about our commitment to our children. And by the way; speaking of our children, how's Toby?"

"I just dropped my son off at school. Toby is...Toby."
"Ha,ha, lad like his dad, I see. It's good to hear that he's behaving himself. You've trained him well. How's Mrs. Morris?"
"She's bees."
"Good for you. You'll never run out of honey. Thank God Toby got to school safely this morning like the rest of the kids that made it there. No thanks to these absent minded..."

"Knuckle heads." Black jack inserted.
"It seems as if they feel that I stop them because I have the authority to do so. And I'm just showing off.
And I've stopped them by egotistical force. Not by request, on behalf and in favor of our children. They've missed the mark."

There came a commending air about Black jack.
"Well...you just keep requesting, Mary Beth. And don't you ever fret. My department and I have your back. We're on your side."

"You're God sent. For your loyalty and your service I thank Jesus. I've read in the Bible in the book of Romans chapter thirteen and verse one that every person must be subject to the rules of the civil law.There is no authority except by permission of God. The laws that exist do so by God's appointment.
Yes. You are sent by God. I'll forever be gratefully thankful that you obeyed Him and came to help me protect our children.

"Over the years you've inspired me to be like you always tell me you are, Mary Beth. I know that I'm just a vessel that God works through."

I've noticed that when Blackjack is present civil defiance is absent. People are seen erecting themselves in their seats. Others fidget at their seat belts to adjust them. Some glance at me and grin a counterfeit smile. Most of them look dried up and spooked at the presents of Blackjack. But when the cat's away; the mice will play.

One morning a motorist screamed it out,
"Hey, lady. You're here every day with your madness. You're nothing but trouble. You're a pest. Get out of here. Move out of my way. I'm late for work."

I covered my reply. I held it deep down inside of me. I'm at work; I thought. I was on time. And I'm going to do my job in spite of objections. Perhaps he's made a blunder in his planning. That does not create an emergency for him at my children's school crossing. Look. See for yourself. There's a half dozen of them crossing in front of you right now. THEY, are my emergency. I waved my stop sign and made it spin.
This means STOP. You stay where you are, until further notice from, ME. Or you PAY. OKAY, JOSE' ?

People have a way of inching pass me in a creepy way. They toot their horns in a way that sound like a snotty nose snort. Then they storm away. Road rage? Pretty much. Redemption?
There's always light on the flip side of darkness. On the bright side, I've found a solution to the pollution.

Dowdy, is a pet name that I've given to one of my eighth grade friends, He is an ordinary looking junior high school boy. Like my other boys he wears clothes that are indescribable and a few sizes too big for him.

"You look like you're melting, Dowdy," I once said to him with a chuckle.
"It's what's new, Old gold," he called me, "and it's the way we dress." He passes me every school morning.

"Morning Miss Mary Beth," he greets me with a shinning smile.
This morning Dowdy stopped at the corner as he did every morning, waiting for me to do my thing.
I raised my stop sigh, hastened to the middle of the intersection, and stretched out my stop palm.
Traffic Stopped.

Then I motioned for him to cross as usual. Dowdy didn't as much as budge.
"Come now, Dowdy. Hurry," I coaxed. He wouldn't cross. He stood still.

"What are you waiting for?" I asked politely.
"Sign says, stop," he replied with a hee hee chortle.
"Oh, come young man, no time to play." I hoped that sounded like a request.

"Yes, Miss Mary Beth," Dowdy marched to where I stood and stopped right in front of me. He looked up at me with an obedient looking glow in his face. By now there were motor vehicles waiting from all four directions. Horns honked. Engines revved. Head lights flickered. Voices yelled. Dowdy smiled at them with dimpled cheeks and his pearly whites gleaming.

"Let's forgive them," he said. He removed a sign from his book bag and held it up for all to see. It read....

"THANK YOU." He passed the sign to me.

"After I've safely crossed and reached the other side, lower your STOP, sign and wave the THANK YOU, sign right away." he suggested. "It's for all people all the time. This THANK YOU, sign is a KEEPSAKE for you, Miss Mary Beth."

I draped my arm across his shoulders. He wrapped his arm around my waist as I escorted Dowdy to the pedestrian walkway. I lowered my stop sign, and raised Dowdy's THANK YOU, sign.

The traffic flow behind us seemed to float courteously away. Until that day, I never thought that I'd ever hear car horns talk. But I clearly heard horns tooting, "YOU'RE WELCOME."

Dowdy removed the sign from my hand, He raised it, waved it, and made it spin. Then he passed it back to me.

"This KEEPSAKE, has been given especially to you, Miss Mary Beth. Use it with your heart."
He smiled at me. He waved an appreciative hand to the motorist. And then he walked away.

That's exactly what I'm going to do, Dowdy," I promised. And now, I use it every day.
Each day things get better and better. People are friendlier. Traffic slowed down. Horns honk respectfully.

Dowdy nods as he crosses each day. "Morning Miss Mary Beth."
I wave my sign and make it spin. "Good morning, sun beam. I love you too."
I smile at Dowdy with a wink and a twinkle in my eyes.

"It's beginning to look like...all in the family around here." I heard Dowdy say down low.

One day I received several packages from the United Parcel Service. They were stuffed with things that I need to help me do my work.They were gifts that were meant to make me feel comfortable in the rain, shine, sleet, or snow, while I was out there protecting my children.

Also enclosed was a thank you card. It read...
"Thank you Miss Mary Beth on behalf of our community. We all love you too. Thank you for your sign. We're beginning to see them at school crossings every where."

"You're welcome Miss Mary Beth. We know that this isn't a heck of a lot for all you have done and are still doing for us kids. But it's to you from our hearts. It's from us and our school too."

Oh, yeah. And it's from our Moms and our Dads and the rest of the Old Gold in our neighborhood.
Truly yours: Your home town. Pleasantville.

















































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