SEE YOU TOMORROW
Was the way our school bus driver dismissed each child from the rickety WWII relic which transported the "country" children to the "city" school high on a hill overlooking "town."
His long, gnarled fingers operated the lever that opened the creaky doors so that each child could alight safely on the black soil of home. He wore a cap that was turned at a jaunty angle, and whistled while he drove. We kids admired and respected him.
When one particularly outrageous girl made bold as to sass him, we shunned her womanlish bummy for weeks. It was only her willingness to share some of her Sugar Babies that made us reluctantly allow her renewed fellowship. Even then, she had to mind her p's and q's.
He knew us, knew our fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, grandparents, and sixth cousins! He also knew our strengths and weaknesses, and would praise and encourage our efforts to learn. He was a good man who made the best and most of what life handed him.
Rest in peace, Mr. Edgar Lee Williams.
I'll see you tomorrow, God willing.
Syl