Judy, Judy, Judy...by Eva Pasco 
The backdrop of
this true childhood incident I'm about to relate occured
somewhere in-between the late fifties
and 1960. During those wonder years of
innocence, my steady TV diet consisted of the black and white
frenetic antics of Buffalo Bob Smith and his marionettes:
freckle-faced Howdy Doody, whimsical Flub-a-Dub,
ear-wiggling Dilly Dally, bushy-browed Mayor Phineas T.
Bluster, and the pantomiming Clarabell. Then it was off to
the Treasure House with Captain Kangaroo, Mr. Green Jeans, Mr.
Moose, and Bunny Rabbit. Double-entendred, pie-in-the-face,
one man band Soupy Sales was another prized
entertainer.
It
should also be duly noted for the upcoming story: the
price of a first class postage stamp in 1960 was 4 cents;
school bus drivers did not run the gauntlet of background checks
prior to getting hired; no one made a big deal out of
things where it concerned children--perhaps they should have;
people in the boonies opened their door after dark when they heard
a knock...and, most importantly, Judy deserved a citation for
using her head...
Every Monday after
school a segment of us kids in grades 1 through 6
attended religious instructions classes held at another school in
town. Then we boarded the bus for drop offs along the
sparsely-settled, dimly-lit, country bumpkin roads in the
village of Limerock. Not having a care in the
world we sang Christmas carols, laughing all the way. That
is, until the bus coughed, sputtered, and expired on Wilbur
Road--the same road with the dilapidated haunted house we loved to
conjure stories about during sunlit hours, of
course.
Then, you could
hear a pin drop. Without ceremony, our grizzly old bus
driver gruffly announced, "Everybody off the
bus!"
That's right, we
cherubs were left to fend for ourselves in the dark and
cold, a few miles from where we lived. Before I had
a chance to panic, Judy, one of the sixth graders who lived on my
street, took charge. She flaunted her authority
by ordering the older kids to take us younger ones by the
hand and stick together by groups. I was part of Judy's
group as she led the troops to a house with lighted
windows. A kind elderly woman who reminded me of Mrs.
Claus with her white hair coiled in a bun, invited us
inside. In the midst of filling out Christmas
cards, piles of addressed envelopes were stacked on the
kitchen table. Judy used the phone and called her dad to come
pick us up...
In the aftermath
of the event, a newspaper article the size of a postage
stamp summarized the incident and the
bus driver was let go. I remember telling my
class all about this adventure during "Show and Tell."
Other than by grateful word of mouth, Judy was never
ceremoniously recognized for her
levelheadedness. However, when I'm pressed to think
of herooes and heroines who have made an impact in my life, it
is without a doubt, Judy, Judy,
Judy.
Judy went on to
become a school teacher in Lincoln just as I did, the
same town in which the incident occured. We had a chance
to attend the same seminar not long before both of
us retired. During lunch, I made sure everyone at the table
knew of Judy's uncommon valor--the stuff that leaders are made
of. In gratitude, I'm going to mail Judy a copy of
this article.
Eva Pasco's
"Underlying Notes" may be purchased
here:
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.jpg "The 60s - Carl - 1968 - Vietnam")
