My husband is a bus driver.  A driver of school children and camp children and others.  Today is his last day of driving precious children to and from Beth Tfiloh summer camp.  For eight weeks he’s done this.  And the children love him. He tunes the radio to their favorite station.  He lets their beloved doggies come up the steps to greet him. He tells the kids if they behave he’ll let them talk on the intercom before they get off the bus and let them pretend to be air traffic controllers. One of the camp leaders said he wished every bus driver was like Ray.  He said the children get off the bus happy and are happy to get back on at the end of the day.  And the gift cards to Target and Dunkin’ Donuts have flooded in.  But even sweeter are the thank you’s from the parents.  Thank you for keeping my children safe.  Thank you for waiting for him while he was in the bathroom this morning.  Thank you for playing the radio.  Thank you for making them happy on the hour-and-a-half ride. Thank you for taking care of my precious child.
He has grandchildren. He knows.