Number 17 (Tribute to a friend) As I was on my way home today from work, school bus #117 passed me and opened up my memory bank. When I was a student growing up in Soperton, Georgia, I rode a total of 4 buses to and from school – Bus 2 (Mr. Freddie McLendon, driver), Bus 15 (Dea. John Moore, driver), Bus 17 (Dea. Gaston Mclendon, Sr., driver) and Bus 19 (Mr. Saint Mark Little, driver). While I have fond memories of each of these drivers, today’s lesson focuses on Bus 17 and Deacon Gaston McLendon. Mr. Gaston, as we affectionately called him, drove Bus 17 for as long as I could remember. Generally, I would not have been on his bus but my father owned a store which was on Mr. Gaston’s route. Because I was one of the last ones on the overcrowded bus, Mr. Gaston would let me “hold the door”. We did not have crossing guards “back in the day” nor were buses equipped with a safety arm, so someone would have to stand out in front of the bus and allow students to cross then alert the driver that it was clear for him to proceed. Mr. Gaston and I spent a great deal of time on Bus 17, as I would ride with him in the afternoon on his entire route to take all the students home. He would often talk with me about “getting my lesson”, “doing my best”, “making something out of my life” and “being respectful”. I have fond memories of Mr. Gaston because he took an interest in me during a time when I felt nobody really cared about me. I can still hear him say “Jones, how you doing today?” Or “Jones, what do you think about such and such?” Recently, I had the opportunity to spend a little time with his widow, “Mama Rita”. We laughed like two old friends catching up with each other after not seeing each other for many years. I was encouraged by her sweet spirit, and by her jovial dispensation. I felt like at any moment Mr. Gaston would show up and smile as he always did. I write about Mr. Gaston because he was the one who instilled a sense of worth in me. Even though he had children of his own, he treated me like I was one of his. In fact, anyone who rode his bus, was one of his. He never said a harsh word to me, always cared enough to speak and inquire as to how I was doing. I believe very strongly that God places people in each of our lives that help to mold and shape us into what we become. Mr. Gaston was a huge influence in my life and I am a better man today because of him. He was well known in our community and very well respected. I never took the opportunity to tell Mr. Gaston what a difference he made in my life, even though I know he knew. He saw what I couldn’t see – worth, when I felt worthless. He saw potential, when all others could only see failure. Sounds a lot like God, doesn’t it? He was truly a “Godsend”. He didn’t just “talk” his faith, he “walked” it out -he lived it. I John 3:18 is a testament to Mr. Gaston – “Let us not love (merely) in theory or in speech but in deed and in truth (in practice and in sincerity).” Thank you, Mr. Gaston for your love, care and concern. Take your rest. I am doing well – thanks, in part, to you. Grace, MJ-17
Posted on: Fri, 27 Sep 2013 23:40:44 +0000
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