Monday, December 21, 2009

Limo Driver


In the movie “The Bucket List” Morgan Freeman and Jack Nickelson are two older men who have a list of things they want to do before they kick the bucket. I too have a list. It is not very exotic and mainly involves things I haven’t driven so far in my life. As you get older I think you have license to satisfy some of these desires. Some time ago a Limousine company set up shop just down on Main four blocks from our house. They have a full complement of Limos from Lincoln town Cars, Hummers. to full buses made up as limousines. I didn’t even know being a Limo driver was on my list but some how it showed up. This is the story of my first two jobs. The misspelled words are a salute to my being able to spell words in such a way that even spell check can’t help me
My First Job as Lemo driver was to pick up a group of Hispanic people.

I was supposed to go though 16 hours of training for my new part time job. I was into the third hour on the second day of watching a video on the rules and protocol of chauffeurs. The trainer is also the manager and dispatcher. We were scheduling a time when he could take me out at night and drive around Scottsdale as that is one of the favorite destinations. He also wanted to acquaint me with nighttime driving in a stretch limo.

While we were engaged in this conversation a call came in from Phoenix from a very upset woman who had pre-paid $350 for three hours of limo service that was supposed to have started 30 minutes ago. Brandon shuffled though his desk till he found the contract that had not been entered into the computer and thus had not been assigned. Sensing the tension of the moment, I excused myself and told him I would call tomorrow. He replied, “How quick can you go home, get your suit on and be back here for this run”?

In the few nano-seconds that I had I am thinking; Lets see, I have never driven a stretch limo, we will be almost an hour late by the time that I get there, the customer is already upset---perfect---- I’ll take it and was back in 15 minutes. Helpers were prepping the limo when I got back and I got about three minutes of instruction on the controls of this stretch mobile. I put it in gear and pulled out of the yard into the narrow street behind the yard. How hard can this be I’m saying. After all I drive a forty-foot school bus every day. There were similarities. It seemed forty foot long but with less visibility both front and rear and a worse turning radius.

The occasion was a “Quinceanera” coming out celebration for a 15-year-old Hispanic girl. I had already been warned there would be no tip for this run as they have usually spent all the money they have been saving for months to put on this party. That proved to be correct but my life is more about experiences right now than it is about money.

Armed with a map of the destination in downtown Phoenix I was soon on the freeway trying to figure out how close the cars were to the rear of me as I was making lane changes. The map took me to one of the more humble parts of Phoenix. These were project houses. All looked alike and were the same color. As I made my way down the narrow roads between the houses my clue that I was at the right place was a group of nice looking young men in fancy tuxedos standing on their dirt lawn. This is all that was left as the rest of the group had move on to an Old Catholic church for the ceremonies. They quickly and courteously gave me directions to the church. The ceremonies were already in progress. When I dropped the boys off. I decided to lock the car and go observe what was happening. In testing the remote lock that had all the directions worn off I hit something while the door was still open which set the car alarm off. I can hear the music from the church so I assume they can hear the car alarm. Panic!! Getting a tip is now out of the question. I’m now just trying to stay out of jail for disturbing one of the most important events in a young fifteen year olds life. As it turned out after an eternity of 30 seconds getting the alarm off, I found the music I was hearing was coming from a loud speaker outside the church.

When you get to an event way late it seems to get over way early. Soon out came the party-goers in their fancy dresses and tuxedos. The mother who had prepaid for the Limo let me know of her unhappiness and reminded me that she had paid of three hours of service. I assured her that she would get her three hours and that I was at her service. Seven young men and one girl got in the back and asked me to just drive them around downtown Phoenix. I still have two hour left on the clock. After about fifteen minutes I stopped and asked them if they would like to go see some great Christmas lights in Mesa. They thought that would be cool so we took the freeway back to Mesa. I drove up in front of the temple and let them out advising them that this was a sacred place so they would need to observe a reverent attitude. The temple lights are very impressive and from their part of Phoenix it is possible they had never seen them before. They were quite impressive too. There were seven young men in tuxedos escorting one young woman in a princess gown around the temple grounds. Finally they had had enough. I felt like I was being instructed to take Cinderella from the ball back to the kitchen as we returned to the project houses.

Upon returning to Mesa what grandfather could resist going by his grandkids house and giving them a ride in the stretch limo before returning it to the yard. Not this one. Errol

Ride # 2 I picked up two couples in a gated community in Chandler and drove the to North Scottsdale for a short birthday gathering. The round trip was 90 miles. This trip was quite uneventful as I had my GPS guiding me and it was mostly freeway both ways. On returning to Chandler one of the men slipped me a couple of bills. Discretion dictates that you don’t examine the tip in the presence the customer. You merely thank them for being able to serve them and be on your way. At my first opportunity I held the bills up to the dim interior light of my stretch Cadillac to find they were both of the $100 type. My tip less teenagers soon became a dim memory and I was forced to reexamine my reasons for doing this job. EB




Sunday, November 22, 2009

Organizing

Date: Sun, 22 Nov 2009 21:20:35 -0700

No one could accuse me of being a neat freak. In my mind I love organization and my only hope of getting there is to have less stuff. My goal is to be a minimalist but it takes too much work. By the side of my bed there has been for many years a binder that started out as a journal. Over the years it has become a place that I stuffed memorable things that I wanted to save.

Tonight I pulled it up on the bed and started going thought it. There were letters from my children, talks, birthday notes,appreciation notes from ward members, lists of all the cars and trucks I had bought over the years,{it is in the 60's} etc. My goal was to throw much of it away. That didn't happen. There was a reason I had stashed the stuff in the binder and I found that even though I hadn't looked at it for years I wanted to keep the evidence that someone thought kindly of me at some time.

One of my favorite birthday cards was from Heidi.[Picture of trees and forest] Dad I'll never forget how you used to take me places---Open card--but I always found my way home. I hope we will always know where home is and be able to find our way there.

This week my plan is to start training as a Lemo driver. There is a Lemo/ bus business up on Main that I stopped in at this week. I only work 30 hrs for the school so I thought I could get a few Lemo gigs on the side during the holidays. The pay is higher plus tips. Just branching out the arms of my new career.

Bad news this week. For the last five years I have been nurturing four aspen trees up in Pine. Rob and family helped me plant them. I was told it would be a challenge as the elk and deer love to eat the bark. We dutifully sprayed them with liquid fence [terrible smelling stuff that repells most animals] for these years but lost two of them last year. The other two were getting healthy in size and we love the look of Aspen. Last week when we went up these two were stripped of all there bark. So much for my Aspen forest. Love Dad

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Random Thoughts



Subject: RE: Random Thoughts
Date: Sun, 25 Oct 2009 09:11:34 -0700

One final thought on "The final resting place" here on earth and then I will give this a "rest".
I thought Terry gave the best summary of reasons to be buried in a certain place. I have lived most of my life in Arizona. Memorial Day in Arizona is almost a non-event in the Ray family. It is already hot and none of the wonderful traditions of going to the graves and getting together with relatives are practiced here. In the thirty years since Elaine's Moms death she has been to the grave, which is less than three miles from our home, three times. Her Mom is very close to her and she has felt her presence often but not in the cemetery so she feels no need to go there. Star Valley too is my "Home" but it is unlikely that my children would ever come there to pay their respects and in Arizona respect paying is a non-event.

I resent the costs of a traditional funeral and burial even though it is minute fraction of the monies that supported one in life. The billions spent putting people in the grave it seems could have a better use on the needs of the living. I remember Mom telling about when her brother Gerald died. The body was laid out in the family living room and they stayed up putting ice on it though the night until the funeral. I suppose the main expense was the casket which grandpa probably made.

One remembrance from the Fairview cemetery on memorial day when I was maybe ten years old. There was a particularly well endowed older woman there that Dad asked me to go up and ask her what she had done for him when he was a baby. I did not ask so he told me. Being the ninth of ten children apparently Grandmother Bagley was not able to nurse him properly so he got supplemented by this neighbor lady. He claimed that was why he was bigger than the rest of his brothers.

Anyway, that leaves me with the Grover hill fly over or they can sprinkle my ashes up on the hill above our Pine home. My children and grandchildren are sure to visit there. Perhaps none of my wishes will be considered and as Loren said "over my dead body" they will do what they want. On with the joys of living. Errol


From: Terry
To: Errol
Subject: RE: Random Thoughts
Date: Sat, 24 Oct 2009 22:35:29 -0600



Dear Family: As I am the eldest I prefer to contsentrate on living! But in the event I am not twinkled with Christy I have arranged to acquire two lots in Afton from Partsy where Jerry , Ryan, Mom, Dad, Uncle Gene, Aunt Ida and Eugene are resting. I could just as easily have chosen Fairview, but I want to be with "my family". I never lived at the Grover Ranch, so I have no connection with it although I understand Errols affinity with it. I have always considered Star Valley "home". Yes I have lived in California, Washington, Oklahoma and Idaho, but Star Valley is "home". It is where I grew up, worked with dad and Jerry, went to school, went on my first date, kissed a girl for the first time, had my first love and went steady my junior year; graduated from High School, left for and returned from my mission. It is where I gave my wife a diamond and announced our engagement. It is also where Mom & Dad gave us a wedding reception and sent us to the cabin for our honeymoon. But I would really like to be "twinkled" Terry

From: Errol
Sent: Saturday, October 24, 2009 1:16 PM

Subject: RE: Random Thoughts

I am waiting for the wisdom of Terry and Christy on this important topic. I think I will add something John and I can both take some pleasure in. I think I will hear Dads call just as well from the Grove hill as anywhere as that is where I heard it the most in the Grover house. I would like John to do a fly over of the Grover hill and drop my ashes from at least 100ft elevation. I think the prop wash would insure a good even spread. One added memory from that hill was that I shot my one ond only deer just on the top. There were two standing across the first draw. Dad said" You take the one on the left and I will take the one on the right". We dropped them both. Errol



From: Jule
To: Errol
Subject: Re: Random Thoughts
Date: Fri, 23 Oct 2009 19:12:16 -0600

My Oh My but this has taken a serious note!
Errol: don't paint any more lockers and get to Wyoming as soon as you
can to get some fresh air!! Take in all the air you can in Idaho as you go.
Breathe slow. breathe deep. As Dolly Levi said in "Hello dolly": Just keep breathing!!!

Like Merissa, I too was happy that you brought up cremation.
That wasn't incarnation that you were thinking of, was it?
I have long expressed that the thoughts of being under the ground are most distressing tome
LIke Aunt Christy, I just gotta have a way to get out!

I have said to John, maybe just wrap me in a shawl and put me in a tree.
But, as to where? The Ranch in Teton Valley has my heart.
I too love Star Valley, very much, but, my life has been lived with my family in
Teton Valley. I love our ranch. I want to be sprinkled in a bed
of natural wildflowers on the hill with the Tetons ever visible.
I would like all of you to join me, as that's whar we are:
a varied and wonderful family of wild flowers with mountains
to climb or fly over or walk through.

Now, on with the joy of life while we are living!
Julie of the South China Sea


On Oct 22, 2009, at 9:44 PM, Errol Bagley wrote:

Dear Family,

You must understand that I spend five hours a day [90 miles] driving school bus. Bus driving only uses 37% of your brain except at intersections [150 per day] when it can go up to 65%. I therefore have time to think of the meaning of life and of death with the other parts of my brain while driving. Today I was thinking about death and particularly where I would like to be buried if I could be buried anywhere and not confined to a cemetery . I would ask each of you to think about your answer to that question before you read mine.......................

I decided that I would like to be buried on the dry farm on top of the hill behind the Grover Ranch house. I used to be opposed to cremation but I have mellowed to that idea and I would not mind if my ashes were spread up on that hill. Grover has many great memories for me. It is where I came into my own in young manhood. I loved the ranch. My High School years were good. It was on that hill that we baled hauled and staked a 1000 bales one day. That was a lot of hay in those days. I was watching the bale counter and immediately told Dad when it hit 1000 as we had never done that before. I thought he might call it a day. He duly noted the fact and kept on baling.

I saw an arcticle about a burial place where no caskets or markers were allowed. The bodies were just wrapped in a blanket and put in the ground. A geo-marker was put in the ground so the location could be identified electronically in the future and the body would speedily return to mother earth.

I am not discounting how much I enjoy going to the cemetery and visiting the place of our loved ones final resting place. It is very special to me. I would be interested in your thoughts on this subject if you care to share them.

Errol

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The Good Life




Dear Family, For those of you in the mist of making a living, raising children, and finding love I salute you. I have had a great life but there is no part of it that I need to go back and live over.

I find I am most satisfied with being older and having a great store of memories that I can access from my hard drive and relive in my mind if I wish and I do regularly.

To live with the pleasure of my wife, children, and grandchildren is reward enough for whatever good I may have done thus far. It goes by very quickly and each stage needs to be savored even in its challenges.

I share this with you in hopes that it will be an encoragement in whatever stage you are in to live it to the fullest. Then, when you get older like me you will have both posterity and good memories. Love Dad

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

The Cat Man and the Inner city

We live just four blocks from the Arizona Temple. It is one of the most visited spots in Arizona.  Unfortunately it is no longer the best part of Mesa, which brings me to the cat man. Some months ago at the end of our street on Horne a man set up shop feeding cats. He arrives before dawn and stays for hours feeding cats from the neighborhood. He appears to check them off on a list he keeps and carefully feeds and holds each cat till he is satisfied that all have been accounted for. The cat man is very thin wears a safari hat, cargo pants, and has plastic bags tied all over his bike. I am told he is well educated but for some reason has dropped out of mainstream society.

 

We also have Dizzy who has haunted Main Street for decades now. He carries a cross and a bible, is usually listening to music and does dances and makes unusual hand gestures as he performs crossing the intersections mostly at Stapley and Main. He is getting older and gaining weigh but still keeps up a fairy vigorous pace. Years ago I saw him dancing at Mesa Drive and Main with what appeared to be a just a large diaper on. I called the police.

 

We also used to have a long legged prostitute that patrolled Horne between Main and Brown. She is missing this year.

 

There is of course Bob of Third Street. Bob has more jokes and the greatest sense of humor of anyone I know.  He works for Ellsworth and serves many of the widows in the area mowing their lawns and taking out their trash.

 

Such is the flavor and texture of the inner city.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Random Thoughts on my Final Resting Place





 

Dear Family, 
 
You must understand that I spend five hours a day [90 miles] driving school bus. Bus driving only uses 37% of your brain except at intersections [150 per day] when it can go up to 65%. I therefore have time to think of the meaning of life and of death with the other parts of my brain while driving. Today I was thinking about death and particularly where I would like to be buried if I could be buried anywhere and not confined to a cemetery . I would ask each of you to think about your answer to that question before you read mine.......................
 
I decided that I would like to be buried on the dry farm on top of the hill behind the Grover Ranch house. I used to be opposed to cremation but I have mellowed to that idea and I would not mind if my ashes were spread up on that hill. Grover has many great memories for me. It is where I came into my own in young manhood. I loved the ranch. My High School years were good. It  was on that hill that we baled hauled and staked a 1000 bales one day. That was a lot of hay in those days. I was watching the bale counter and immediately told Dad when it hit 1000 as we had never done that before. I thought he might call it a day. He duly noted the fact and kept on baling.
 
I saw an arcticle about a burial place where no caskets or markers were allowed. The bodies were just wrapped in a blanket and put in the ground.  A geo-marker was put in the ground so the location could be identified electronically in the future and the body would speedily return to mother earth.
 
I am not discounting how much I enjoy going to the cemetery and visiting the place of our loved ones final resting place. It is very special to me. I would be interested in your thoughts on this subject if you care to share them. Errol


I am waiting for the wisdom of Terry and Christy on this important topic. I think I will add something John and I can both take some pleasure in. I think I will hear Dads call just as well from the Grove hill as anywhere as that is where I heard it the most in the Grover house. I would like John to do a fly over of the Grover hill and drop my ashes from at least 100ft elevation. I think the prop wash would insure a good even spread. One added memory from that hill was that I shot my one ond only deer just on the top. There were two standing across the first draw. Dad said" You take the one on the left and I will take the one on the right". We dropped them both. Errol
 
From Terry
Dear Family:  As I am the eldest I prefer to contsentrate on living!    But in the event I am not twinkled with Christy I have arranged to acquire two lots  in Afton from Partsy where Jerry , Ryan, Mom, Dad, Uncle Gene, Aunt Ida and Eugene are resting.  I could just as easily have chosen Fairview, but I want to be with "my family".  I never lived at the Grover Ranch, so I have no connection with it although I understand Errols affinity with it.   I have always   considered  Star Valley  "home".   Yes I have lived in California, Washington, Oklahoma and Idaho, but Star Valley is  "home".  It is where I grew up, worked with dad and Jerry, went to school, went on my first date, kissed a girl for the first time, had my first love and went steady my junior year; graduated from High School,  left for and returned from my mission.  It is where I gave my wife a diamond and announced our engagement.  It is also where Mom  & Dad gave us a wedding reception and sent us to the cabin for our honeymoon.   But I would really like to be "twinkled"        Terry

From Errol
One final thought on "The final resting place" here on earth and then I will give this a "rest".
I thought Terry gave the best summary of reasons to be buried in a certain place. I have lived most of my life in Arizona. Memorial Day in Arizona is almost a non-event in the Ray family. It is already hot and none of the wonderful traditions of going to the graves and getting together with relatives are practiced here. In the thirty years since Elaine's Moms death she has been to the grave, which is less than three miles from our home, three times. Her Mom is very close to her and she has felt her presence often but not in the cemetery so she feels no need to go there. Star Valley too is my "Home" but it is unlikely that my children would ever come there to pay their respects and in Arizona respect paying is a non-event.
 
I resent the costs of a traditional funeral and burial even though it is minute fraction of the monies that supported one in life. The billions spent putting people in the grave it seems could have a better use on the needs of the living. I remember Mom telling about when her brother Gerald died. The body was laid out in the family living room and they stayed up putting ice on it though the night until the funeral. I suppose the main expense was the casket which grandpa probably made.
 
One remembrance from the Fairview cemetery on memorial day when I was maybe ten years old. There was a particularly well endowed older woman there that Dad asked me to go up and ask her what she had done for him when he was a baby. I did not ask so he told me. Being the ninth of ten children apparently Grandmother Bagley was not able to nurse him properly so he got supplemented by this neighbor lady. He claimed that was why he was bigger than the rest of his brothers.
 
Anyway, that leaves me with the Grover hill fly over or they can sprinkle my ashes up on the hill above our Pine home. My children and grandchildren are sure to visit there. Perhaps none of my wishes will be considered and as Loren said "over my dead body" they will do what they want. On with the joys of living.  Errol

 


800 temple lockers



Some weeks ago I learned that during the two week Oct. temple closer they wanted all of the lockers and stalls painted in the Mesa Arizona Temple dressing rooms. That would be 800 lockers four to a stall. The best advise I got while researching this project was figure a good price double it and pray you do not get it. I did so, but my prayers were not answered. I got it. Elaine headed up the prep and clean up crew. All temple worthy of course. We used miles of tape paper and plastic. The paint was a nasty two part epoxy that had only a 4 hour pot life before it turned to stone. I lost one $200 hose and gun during the project for not cleaning it our properly between sessions. An industrial fan was set up in one of the emergency exits and ran 24 hours a day while we were working to draw the vapors out of the temple. You could smell it all the way across the parking lot. I could only paint for a couple of hours at a time before I had to leave and air out. I'm not sure how many brain cells I lost in the two weeks. They paint these lockers every ten years. I will not be bidding on them next time at any price.  Errol 

Windows 7: Simplify your PC. Learn more. 

Sunday, October 25, 2009

The Stop Arm



Next to commercial air travel riding on a school bus may be the safest form of transportation in the U.S. An average of 20 students die each year in school transportation related traffic accidents. Of those, only 5 die while on the bus. The rest loose their lives, as pedestrians coming to or away from the bus. Compared to the 50,000 teenage driving deaths in the U.S. each year, some of which are students driving to and from school, this is an amazing low number.

This enviable safely record is in no small part due to the many rules related to school bus transportation. Not the least of these is the stop arm and related flashing lights. It is a misdemeanor to pass a stopped school bus with red lights flashing in either direction if there is no raised median between you and the bus. A misdemeanor is when you go before a judge and he decides if you pay a lot of money, a really lot of money, or just go to jail and not on a school bus. People pass my stop arm every day, sometimes five or six at a time.

Mesa was laid out by the Mormon Fathers with wide streets. Some have four traffic lanes and some have six traffic lanes with a center turn lane and bicycle lanes next to the curb. If it weren’t for the power lines and the cars you could comfortably land medium sized aircraft on many of the streets. If my brother John lived near Mesa I’m sure, he would have taken advantage of these many landing opportunities and not be confined to the freeways and fields of Idaho. It is understandable that cars approaching a stopped bus with five traffic lanes between them and the bus feel little need to stop.

There is a form that we can fill out with the cars license #, description of the car, time of day, and give it to the police. The state supposedly sends the driver a stern warning. I go for more instant gratification with stop arm runners. I wait till they get right alongside of the bus and then I apply the air horn. People react in different ways to this bugle mounted on the side of the bus they have just passed. Some quickly bring the vehicle to a stop, several hundred feet ahead of the bus and wait for you to unload the students. Nice effort….. Some tap their brakes, so that you can see their brake lights as they go by as some sort of acknowledgment, that they will for sure, stop at the next bus they come to. Others just honor you with a one-fingered salute.

Three examples of recent stop arm runners;

The Three Car Three Bus Slalom

One morning as I am approaching my Mckellips and Stapley pick up, I lit up the bus with no less than two sets of stop lights, four overhead flashing reds and two flashing reds on the stop arm. This morning two other bused approach me coming the opposite direction as I came to a stop. They of course stop and turn on their flashing overhead amber lights. Not to be deterred by this wattage three cars sped between all three of these forty-footers. I went for my on my air horn, and the buses across the street used their regular horns. I think some stopped cars even joined in with their horns. This had to be like driving though a pumpkin patch at Christmas time with a band playing. I feel sure someone in one of those cars said “What’s the deal with those big yellow trucks and their flashing lights and horns”?


The Mormon Mommy

Now I’m just guessing on this one, but she was driving a Tahoe full of kids. Maybe she was just the neighborhood Den Mother. This is my only stop where students could walk in front of the bus even though they do not. This ‘sister’ approached the bus slowly as we where in her neighborhood and then she drove right under the flashing stop arm while talking on her cell phone. I gave her the benefit of my “busy mothers in Zion pass” and did not use the air horn on her.

The Riding Lawn Mower

Val Vista & McClellan 3:05 P.M./ Four lanes / Busy street / My longest student stop/ Fifteen students get off. I watch for them here, as it is the number one place for stop arm runners on my route. Most of them come from behind, but not this day. This day it came unexpectedly from the front. A man on a riding lawn mower was coming towards me at full speed [5mph] across the street in the bicycle lane. As he got across from me he seemed confused as to what the rules were with riding lawn mowers and stopped buses. Not to take a chance he brought the mower to a full stop. I smiled and waved to him.

Happy driving, Mr. “B”

Monday, September 7, 2009

Rule #3 No Eating or Drinking on the Bus

This is a rule I don’t agree with and one that I have not enforced. My first students get on the bus at 6:45 A.M and ride for almost one hour before getting to school. Some of them come with breakfast items in hand that they did not get time to eat at home. One girl came last week with some Cheerios and milk in a zip lock bag. I have no idea how she consumed it.

For a year and a half at the end of each day I have swept out the bus, which usually includes a few wrappers off of food bars, drink cartons, a few crushed cookies and an occasional apple core or banana peel. I was OK with this until the other day when I found a fresh wade of gum on the floor in front of one of the seats. I don’t do gum.

The next morning I reviewed with my passengers the no food and drink rule #3. I reminded them that I had not been enforcing this rule and I really did not care to. I invited them to look on the floor at seat #24 and if the gum was not there it was probably on the bottom of one of their shoes. I displayed a medium sized clear zip lock bag and told them if the food related items that were found on the floor during the next week filled the zip lock bag then the no food and drink rule would go into force.

They were great. There is a wastebasket right by the driver’s seat where they can easily deposit their trash, leaving them no reason to throw it on the floor. By Wednesday I had two cheerios, two empty zip lock bags, and two gum wrappers in my zip lock bag. Even the gum at seat #24 was gone. On Thursday they had a relapse. My bag was half filled at clean up time.

Friday morning before we got to the school I hung my zip lock bag from the passenger mirror for all to see and reminded them that this was the last day and the bag was half full. Like the story of a tree falling in the forest with no one to hear it--did it really make any noise? I considered no trash on the floor meant no one ate or drank on the bus.

That night as I swept out the bus there were two clear lollipop wrappers on the floor. What a relief. Surely I did not want to have to follow the no food or drink on the bus rule myself.

Mr. B

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Dear Family & Friends
 
What a great summer we have had. More time in Pine than I have ever spent even though I can only take three days at a time before I start feeling guilty. We had a great trip to Portland at the beginning of the summer to take care of Jason and Jills children. I got to work in Colorado in a most beautiful setting. We had our Pine Errol & Elaine Bagley family reunion. Elaine and I were back from the two Idaho/ Utah reunions for less that a day before we left for California for three days at a time share resort and musical theater with our friends the Whitings.
 
We were musing the other day that we can hardly remember when we have had to pay for a hotel in resent years as we have friends and family everywhere we go.
 
I remember the line from Sound of Music often." Somewhere in my youth and childhood---I must have done something good". We think of the line often and with with gratefulness as we inventory our many blessing.
 
I am ready to get back to a routine. I got my good bus route back with one small school added within my pickup area. I still have a contract which means a months worth of paid holidays during the school year. I find myself almost embarrassed that I have driven out of my way this summer just to go by the bus yard and look at the big yellow buses. As we were driving though Idaho this summer I noted each school we passed and how many buses were parked by them. I sometimes wake up in the morning going though the bus safely check and then imagining the music of starting up a big diesel engine. I think I am still OK but you may want to keep our eyes on me. Be prepared for more "bus stories". I'm sure they will be coming.
 
Love,  Errol

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

FW: The Tale of Two Fords




Within 24 hours of turning in a Ford Focus at the SLC airport I rented a Ford Fusion in Mesa for a trip to California. Hence a little critique. The Focus seated four adults comfortably. The trunk was surprisingly large for an economy car. It was a peppy performer around town. Freeway passing was adequate but did not exactly fill you with confidence. Engine noise at freeway speeds was almost nonexistent which was pleasant for a four cylinder. The trip computer lead me to believe I was getting 42/44 mpg SLC to Rexburg. A gas top off on the way back proved to be closer to 38/39 mpg. This was at 70/80 mph so I was pleasantly surprised at that.

The Fusion SEL was not only pleasing to look on it was sporty to drive. This was the first time I had driven a car with a six speed automatic. This tranny seemed to always be in the right place at the right time to keep you on top of your driving game. This Ford delivered 26/27 mpg at 70/80 mph which is good but not at all outstanding for this size of car. The gold standard for full size cars remains the Chevy Impala which has always gotten me [+] [-] 30 mpg. at fwy speeds.

Conclusion; The Focus exceeded my expectations for an economy car but the Fusion was actually fun to drive.

Well there you have it, All the information you didn't ask for but got anyway.  EB

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

FW:

Dear Friends

Having grown up in what I assumed were the most beautiful rocky mountains in the West last week I went to Colorado. I friend of mine talked me into helping him painting a 6000 s.f. lodge. at 10,200 ft elevation between Silverton and Ouray. At this elevation I had to catch my breath climbing between the basement and the main floor of the house. The Aspen groves were so thick that from a distance it looked like you could mow them with a lawn mower. Water was busting out of the mountains and cascading over the rocks at every turn. The road on the "Million Dollar Highway had no guard rail so the snow could be plowed over the edge to a dizzing drop below. Within a half of a mile of the lodge there were a half a dozen abandoned gold and siver mines. Water was reluctant to boil at this altitude for cooking. After the second day we ran out of ice for the coolers so we put the milk in the back of the toilet which was spring fed from above the house.
The electricity came from solar panels with a backup propane generator.

For a long time desert rat this was this was most soothing to the eyes and soul.

Errol




Friday, May 29, 2009

FW: last day warfare


 

From: eebagley@hotmail.com
To: eebagley@hotmail.com
Subject: last day warfare
Date: Fri, 29 May 2009 12:23:41 -0700

                           The Last Day of School

 

Last year as a new driver I was totally unaware and unprepared for what apparently had become a last day bus tradition. After the bus gets moving the students start taking paper out of their binders wading it up into paper balls and have a paper war. I was so confused and surprised at this hail of paper warfare that I just pretty much let it run its course. My first run of elementary students started the fight. As the second run of Junior High students got on they did not even have to manufacture paper balls. The bus was already full of them.

 

This year on the day before the last day I reminded the students of last years paper war and warned them to not even think about it this year. If, however something like that did happen that no one would be let off the bus at the first stop until they, not me, had cleaned it all up.

 

On the last day I arrived at the school for the final trip home with black garbage bags already taped on up on the inside of the bus like black funeral crape.    It worked.    After I delivered the elementary students the bus was even cleaner than normal. This was too easy.

 

Now for the junior high students-------- As I took my seat and looked into the passenger mirror I sensed that munitions were already being manufactured behind the high back green seats. Realizing that this was a war that I was going to lose I thought I might regain some control by at least taking charge of the battle.

 

On some level you have to respect young people who take it upon themselves to defy their elder authority in the name of fun. I had told them I didn't want it to happen and I had also explained the consequences if it did. They apparently were choosing the consequences.

 

Before I started away from the school I reminded them that no one was getting off the bus till it was all cleaned up. I directed them that there was to be no flying objects till we were out of sight of the school and away from any other buses. I didn't want any other driver calling in backup help for a besieged driver.

 

After we passed though the first stop light I gave the command to commence firing.---- It was marvelous.---- A hail of white—front to back—side to side as new munitions were being made and the previously used ones were being refired. This went on for about four miles. Even before I had pulled off the road for the first stop the students had begun their cleanup. They took to it with the same vigor as they had the paper war. In the mist of the clean up one girl said, "This was so worth it."

 

Well it was for me too. Mr. "B"

Friday, May 22, 2009

FW: tales of a bus driver


 

From: eebagley@hotmail.com
To: eebagley@hotmail.com
Subject: tales of a bus driver
Date: Fri, 22 May 2009 08:27:38 -0700

                            Taking My Students to Church

 

Some time ago one of my student passengers revealed to me that there was some foul language going on on the bus and he told me who was involved. Not being up to date on the inventive new ways to use the English language I ask him to tell me what kind of verbiage was involved. The poor boy had to repeat it to me three times before I got it though my head what it meant. Yep, that would constitute inappropriate use of words in mixed company on a bus of young people and this was coming from young people. I thanked him for telling me and duly noted the situation. Not knowing how I was going to properly deal with this I put it in my mind and hoped that it would just go away.

 

A few days later the same boy reported the same conduct from the same boys. I knew that now this would have to be addressed. I spent the next few days planning how I could best correct this problem. I concluded I would get the most mileage out of the situation by not singling out the individual boys as I might miss some but rather by addressing the whole busload. I now planned the time and the place for the" teaching moment".                                                                                          

                                                                                                        As it happens my last pickup is on the road at the north parking lot of the LDS church at Val Vista and McClellan. On the day of the instructions I first notified dispatch on the radio that I would be off route for a" teaching moment" after my last pickup. After the pickup at the north parking lot I drove 200ft. to the south parking lot, pulled into the lot and up as close as I could to the front door of the church. I thought this setting lent itself to the instructions I was about to give. As the bus came to this unscheduled stop, the swoosh of the air park brake is heard, and the driver rises from his seat with the PA in hand, there was an uncharacteristic hush that came over my thirty five passengers.

 

As a former-LDS bishop in front of an LDS church with well over half of my students being LDS there was an instructional speech that I could have given on the subject. I did not give that one. There are ten rules posted at the front of the bus. Cooperate with the bus driver, Stay seated while the bus is moving, no profane language, no smoking on the bus etc. I briefly went over these rules and then pointed out to them that we would focus on the profane language one for a few moments. I told them that some were using language not appropriate for students of their caliber who had qualified to go to The Mesa Academy for Advanced Studies. I told them I knew who was doing it, they knew who was doing it, and the bus camera knew who was doing it and I did not want to hear about it again. After an appropriate and agonizing pause and not wanting this to be remembered as a totally negative moment I added, " I do thank all of you for not smoking on the bus."

 

Off went the air brake. We circled the parking lot and were off to school. So far I have not heard any more about this inappropriate language. I might add.  My students love me.   No really, they do.

 

 --Mr. "B"

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Field Trips from Different Worlds

Last week I had two field trips from elementary schools. The first one was from the South side of Mesa sometimes referred to as the miserable mile. This is an area of low-income families dominated by Hispanics. As these beautiful brown first graders came to board the bus I observed them laughing, holding hands with each other, and clutching their water bottles. I wondered if in all the world God has any more beautiful children than these. I know where they live and I know that perhaps most of their parents are illegal. In their innocent childhood they did not seem to be aware that they lived on the wrong side of town. They were just happy to be going on a field trip in a bus. As I gained speed down the on ramp and merged onto the freeway there was an audible excitement as if they had just begun a trip to Disneyland. We were going just four miles to Mesa Community College for a water safety day.

My second field trip was from one of the best neighborhoods in town. There is a gated community just across the street from the school. As you might guess these kindergarten children were all white. They too held hands and clutched their water bottles. They too were so cute that I wanted to take a couple of them home with me. {This I’m told would be illegal.} One of the parents arrived fashionably late in her black Escalade to deliver her student. As I got up to the speed limit on the freeway I addressed them on the PA and asked them if they would like to go really fast on this bus. They answered excitedly in the affirmative. I replied” Sorry this is as fast as I can go”. Their trip was to the Phoenix Botanical Garden. As we got back to the school I had to dodge a 50 thousand dollar Hummer that one of the parents had boldly parked in the bus loading zone and left unattended. As these privileged children got off the bus most of them, I’m sure prompted by the teachers, came by and thanked Mr. Bus Driver for the ride.

This was a study in contrast of two of the most diverse neighborhood schools in Mesa. No one can know what these children will be doing in twenty-five years from now. I am reminded of a saying I once heard. Two things are needed in this world; For poor men to know how rich men work and for rich men to know how poor men live.

Random thoughts by Errol Bagley Seniority #447

Monday, February 9, 2009

Weekly News From Third Street

Weekly News From Third Street February 8, 09

Since January our valley has had light rail. It is a beautiful train but not very fast. In addition to the train there are some beautiful new double long super buses that feed into the light rail. These buses cost $756,000 apiece. These super buses have the ability to hold a green light they are approaching and they only stop every mile. I took some of the grandchildren on a free ride during the holidays over to the airport. I think it would probably take one hour from Mesa by bus and train to get to the airport. Andrew took the bus and train to work this week.

I had a field trip to the new Tempe Arts Center on the lake this week. This is an amazingly beautiful structure on the river walk and not far from a light rail stop.

Leisel is dating regularly, perhaps even more that Ashley at this time. She may choose to share her experiences.

In Sacrament mtg this Sunday Cynthia Nuland played a piece on the piano. Most of you will remember Cynthia is a mildly downs syndrome girl who is Hiedi's age. She played two hymns with one finger only. While short on full piano ability she put feeling into the one finger hymns. We have two other downs syndrome boys in the ward Nathan Davidson and a Richardson boy. Nathan and Cynthia are approaching 40. I would be interested to know Rob and Hiedi's remembrances of Cynthia and Nathan from your earlier years.

Our second musical number was a hymn sung by a sister who sometimes takes leads on Broadway. She did not need the microphone. Thank heavens she does not sing in the ward choir. The rest of us would have to quit. She did a beautiful job and the contrast between the one fingered piano player and the opera singer was a study in our inclusiveness and acceptance in the church.

Since I have more time right now I signed up to go out with the missionaries if they need someone. If the Elders are teaching a single sister they have to have one other priesthood brother with them now.

We are grateful for our two new grandsons Roxwell and Charlie.

When one of Leisels dates came this week Berlin was sitting at the bar. As he shook hands with the adults she immediately put our her hand to be included. It was one of those you had to be there things to know the cutness of it all.

Dad

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Trains & Grandsons

Occasionally a grandfather hits a home run. Sat. I took Sam, Jacob ,Layne, and Brik to and outdoor train museum in Chandler. Since I have always had a great interest in trains this was not a hard task for me. This museum has some 35 different train engines, cabooses, dinning cars, smoking cars, passenger cars, sleeping cars,and kitchen galleys. Possibly the best part about it there was no supervision and you could get hurt. Unlike today's rubberized playgrounds set up with soft ground cover we were climbing into, on top of, and through real trains. The little boys had to be helped up and down the ladders. The only thing we did not do was get on top and jump from car to car. Maybe next time.


Gramps