Crossing guards

It was about 6:45 a.m. on a drizzly grey day last week when a crossing guard bravely stepped into the street and held up a stop sign. She looked like an iridescent teepee in her bright yellow slicker with circles of reflective tape wrapped around it. She was not at an intersection when she emerged from the sidewalk, but in the middle of the block, and it was not for a backpack-wearing child, but a bent down laborer either coming from or going to work. Even as I stopped, the first car in the lane coming toward me did not. The driver in the second car halted, and, like me, watched as the man nodded at the guard, walked to the other side and kept going. The guard turned, lowered the sign and stepped out of our way so we could resume our morning commute.

That scene got me thinking about people who have been crossing guards at important and difficult points in my life. People who helped me find safe passage, who held back what traffic they could or helped clear the way. While there are many whose names I no longer remember and many who are long gone, the list certainly starts with my parents and grandmother. My brother and I learned how to tag team intersections as our parents aged. Two piano teachers kept me focused and moving down the road. One English teacher ignited my love of words. When my thirteen year old brain struggled with chemical formulas, a counselor made it possible for me to defer the class for a year when the concepts then fell in place. A college advisor asked me to think about transferring to Harvard since they had started admitting women, which meant a whole bunch of crossing guards had been at work. A therapist, spiritual director, groups of women friends doing art, sharing our dreams or books were mentors as well as guards. There have been friends who stood with me in the intersection, while some whispered or shouted encouragement from the opposite curb, and others came along at the right time to escort me across.

As I acknowledge those above and many more, I also remember how proud I was when I was given a crossing guard sash and badge. I was in fifth or sixth grade and I don't recall if everyone had a turn or how long the assignment was during the school year. I just know it was a badge of authority and responsibility that everyone took seriously. While I still need help at intersections and along the block, I'm also at a time when I hope I am walking in front of, along side of, and behind those whom I can assist. I'm trying to pay this aspect of relationships and connections forward as much as possible. What about you? Who have been your crossing guards and who are you watching out for?

Marilyn