Historical humor by Tom Hoerr. “School bussing” as moving buildings is a comic premise, not a description of the desegregation plan.
As I get older, I find summers fitting in to that broad category of events that never quite live up to my expectations.
Come to think of it, much of life — for me, anyway — consists of disappointments and of things that fall short of their potential.
The Senior Prom remains my classic letdown, followed closely by the McGovern Presidential Campaign, having my own apartment, and the football Cardinal seasons of 1976, 1977, 1978, and 1979. Somehow, my expectations projected a far different picture of reality than that which really occurred. Certainly there have been a few times when fate didn’t deal from the bottom of the deck and reality surpassed expectations (the chocolate chips are great at “Cookies, Cookies, and More,”), but those occasions are few and far between.
It should be no surprise, then, as I sit on my porch and reflect on summer 1980, to see that it, too, fell short.
The first clue (although I didn’t recognize it at the time) presented itself last spring when the headlines read, “School Bussing to Begin in Fall.” Talk about a dumb idea! Bussing schools? Can you believe we’re paying money to tear down buildings, put the bricks on busses, transport them, and rebuild the schools elsewhere? Can you imagine how many busloads of brick and mortar it will take to move a large school? And what about the plumbing and wiring? They’ll have to remove all the bus’ seats to fit in the school! Why don’t they bus kids instead of having school bussing? Things quickly got worse. I forgot about school bussing by focusing my attention on the baseball Cardinals and becoming an avid fan of manager Ken Boyer. Based on last year’s season-ending surge, the Cards were going to be THE team this year. Well, they were just that . . . THE team to first find a new manager and the league’s lastplace position.
When last seen, exmanager Boyer was headed for the Springfield minors, having booked passage on the Titanic.
The political campaign was next on my list of disappointments. I generally look forward to every fourth year with a great deal of interest. I enjoy watching the political process as wiley candidates seek to gain advantage on a myriad of issues.
But this year: Carter, Reagan, Bond, Teasdale? Wily candidates? Somehow that’s a little like going to the prizefights and finding out that the contestants have been changed from Ali and Frazier to Wally Cox and Gilda Radner. (Actually, any of these four might make a better candidate than those running!) The next disappointment was a bit more personal in nature. I subscribe to the theory that dogs and cars reflect their owner’s characteristics, and it’s true in my case. My car is a bit too big, full of rust spots, addicted to large amounts of liquid and very inefficient. Nonetheless, like its owner, it’s paid for and relatively dependable. You can imagine my dismay when on several mornings Bertha refused to start. (I don’t call the car Bertha, I just think it sounds good to suggest that I do.) Anyway, I must have left some Chavez strike literature or perhaps a pamphlet for a new K-Car in the back seat, because Bertha was definitely on strike. And while she didn’t carry a picket, she wouldn’t budge from the line. After several trips to Weber’s Auto Service, Bertha finally began to approximate her old form of starting after one or two recalcitrant groans. (I see Ray Weber more than my mother-in-law, but that’s ok because he’s a better cook.) In the meantime, however, Bertha got a new thermostat, battery cable, dent from being towed, battery, and something else (the name escapes me, but it cost $18.70 including labor). Finally, how could I talk about disappointments without mentioning the wonderful St. Louis weather?
The only folks who weren’t disappointed in the weather were the air conditioner salesmen, the guys who bag packaged ice, and people who own shares in Union Electric. I’ll talk more about the weather later.
For now it suffices to repeat the line that it was so hot that a robin was seen using potholders to pull worms from the ground. I have learned my lesson, though.
While some disappointments are inevitable (I suspect everyone’s Senior Prom is a bummer), it seems to me that the key to avoiding disappointment is being realistic and not getting your hopes up about things that aren’t certain.
A little prudence can avoid unrealistic hopes and shattered dreams.
This essay isn’t quite done, but I must stop anyway. It’s time to listen to the Cardinal football game.
This will definitely be their year. I’m predicting the playoffs in 1980 and probably a Super Bowl berth. Go Big Red, I’m counting on you!
Originally published in The Paper, September 1980.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times1980_09.pdf, printed page(s) 7; PDF page(s) 7.
