Mr. Ashby, the hey-walk-all-over-me-kids bus driver, was driving the bus down Smithfield Road in my old neighborhood one afternoon. I had seen Butch Payne and another boy throwing things out the window, and being only a few seats from the front decided to make my move to Mr. Ashby to report the offense. After turning around to get back to my seat Butch started forward down the aisle calling me a goody-goody and, I am sure, other things which were not quite so innocent. All of a sudden he was grabbed from behind by a much shorter boy who laid him flat on the floor of the aisle and proceeded to punch him a few times in the face.
Now, I don't promote violence, usually, but Butch was gunning for me, and I am not sure that decking a girl was out of the question. So to this day I am grateful to the young man who stood up for me. My brother Robert.
There haven't been many occasions where this has been necessary over the years, but it is nice to know that as a family we don't let people come down the aisle after us. We are there for each other. Isn't that what it's all about?