I was unhappy when I saw this bus driver again. He's the first one to make me get on the lift backwards, citing some equirement that dozens of others had not ever mentioned. He's the one that, on another trip to somewhere i had not requested, would not take me where I was supposed to go until HQ said he could. This made me late for my doctor's appointment which made me nervous and concerned...
He's 38, unmarried and nearly handsome wearing polarized sunglasses that make it impossible to see his eyes. He sounds like a New York City guy, sort of and I found up he grew up on the island. He looks Latin.
I spoke to him anyway, mainly because i wanted to rid my mind of "remember boys Tonka toys are made just for you/There modern trailer trucks and modern something too/ they're all built like a tonka truck/ a truck that boys like so much/ for boys who like real lifelike toys that they can operate too/remember boys tonka toys are made just for you!
This because the driver i thought he would be, an older guy from the Bronx, had exhorted me to remember something else. He had shared going to France for his niece wedding and being from the Bronx during our first ride together. Evoking France and family made me think of my mother and Paris and how I love and miss Paris. I appreciated both and his political point of view-- his critique and apprehension of Rochester politricks.
On our last drive together we strolled down memory lane. He is 60 something 66? and so he remember Howdy Doody ( i didn't watch or like that scary puppet) and the Mickey Mouse Club but was not watching Rin Tin Tin ( and his pal Rusty) Sky King (out of the blue of the western sky comes Sky King)and Here I come to save the day, that means that Mighty Mouse is on the way! Mickey was not the only mouse.
I sang the Schaeffer song and the Rheingold Song to him as I had to the young upstate reservist who had asked me for a song...
My Bronx friend and i wound up the reminiscence with Nathan's and i thought and then he plucked from my mind ORANGE JULIUS as he lowered me in the wheelchair to the ground.
I almost cried with joy! I adored Orange Julius and my mother would cap off trips to the Village with a stop at the Orange Julius shop on 8th street off of 6th Avenue, Avenue of the Americas
This guy said there wasn't anyone from the Bronx that he knew among the drivers and how did I know-- from his accent? No, i said, he has a warm lovely gruff voice. He told me. Sunglassed driver seemed surprised.
Any way this guy remembered Annette growing bigger than her ears-- in reruns and things i couldn't imagine someone his age would remember-- GREEN STAMPS! and getting a toy with the green stamps his mother saved and suddenly he is from uptown, from Spanish Harlem, remembering the loooong walk for blocks and blocks with his mother and brother and he has intact memories from as young as 3.5 and suddenly he is less aparatchik.
And we have bonded a bit and he smiles at his long intact memories. I urge him to write them down for posterity, for the children he is yet to have.