“If you’re offered a seat on a rocket ship, don’t ask what seat. Just get on.”
–Sheryl Sandberg.
When I read this quote, it brought so many memories to mind about a very specific incident in my young life.
These are the same memories that flooded my spirit, a few months back, when I saw a James River Bus making a turn off Glenside Drive, in Richmond, Virginia, to get to Interstate 64. “WOW, they are still in business.” I thought.
It is amazing how the past can become ‘this very moment’ when the impact feels so real right now. Do you know what I mean? Have you ever had this type of experience?
I hope you will feel the love I have for this bus company and why, as you read the short version of my personal thoughts, from a time long ago.
In 1954, I was very excited about going to Richmond, Virginia, from Goochland County, Virginia, to see my Auntie, Mrs. Lillie T. Pleasants. I loved my Auntie; she was my daddy’s sister, and I so loved my daddy. These were two people I knew loved me.
Now, it wasn’t that I had never been to Richmond before; I had been there many times with my family by car. We would go shopping at Lerner’s Shop, Rose’s, and Woolworth. We would go to eat lunch at the Eggleston Hotel. When this not too often ritual happened, it was a big thing for my brother Steve, my nephew Frankie, and me. We often saw neighbors and other friends and relatives. This was a big deal for us ‘Country Folks.’
I am remembering all of this, because I was telling a friend (Dave Prestia) about something that happened to me in 1954 on a trip to Richmond. He said, “Shirley, you need to write about this; this story needs to be told.”
What was different about this trip? I was going to ride the James River Bus to town. I had never, never, ever, been on a public transportation bus before. I was so excited, I was standing on the side of the road waiting for the bus, long, long, long before it was due. I was going to town to spend the week with Auntie. Have I mentioned I had never been away from home overnight before? Now you know the other reason for my excitement.
When my sister Barbara joined me to wait for the bus, it wasn’t long before it rolled up, stopped, and we got on. My sister got on the bus first, because she was paying for both of us. Then I got on! Again, this was my VERY, VERY first time on a real big bus. People had gotten on the bus starting in Scottsville, and others had been picked up all along the way until it got to our stop.
There were lots of people on the bus. Being about 10 years old at the time, my eyes were wide with wonder. So much so I took the first seat I saw that would allow me to look out of that big bus window. That seat was the front seat! It was waiting just for me.
Now think about this. It is 1954, in the Southern State of Virginia, the state where the Mason Dixie Line begins, where Brown vs. The Board of Education was being heard in court. And, here is this 10 year old black child sitting on the front seat of a public bus. What was this world coming to?
No one, the bus driver, the passengers, nor my sister said a word to me. Not one word about moving to the back of that bus. No one! When I see historical accounts of that era, there was always somebody saying something. And, that something wasn’t always nice.
Looking back, I don’t know why no one said anything; however, I know I would be a different person today if I had been asked or made to move. I hate to think about whom I would be now, if that had happened. I thank God for everybody on that bus that day. It reminds me again we never know how we impact a person’s life when we cross paths with them, never.
You see, in the home where I was raised, I was not told that because I was black I had to go to the back of the bus. I was not told I couldn’t eat in certain places or that I had to use specific restrooms. I was not told the color of my skin mattered.
My family didn’t bring those signs to my attention when we were on those Saturday Richmond trips. We might have been following the rules; however, I didn’t even know they existed.
That day, in 1954, no one on that bus told me it mattered either. Today, for that I am grateful, because surely it would have affected me in a way I would never have forgotten.
I don’t know the name of the bus driver that day or the name of the passengers, other than my sister, but today I honor each one for allowing a little girl in 1954 the freedom to ride in peace. They allowed her to be just who she was…. another human being, on the road to Richmond.
Until next time – peace, hope, love, and joy. You matter too, right now, yes, this very moment!
Read more of Shirley’s columns at Women’s Voices Magazine
You know, Shirley, this quiet impact thing often works both ways. Don’t you wonder how many people on that bus was impressed by a polite little 10 year old girl that not only didn’t have a race chip on her shoulder, she didn’t even know there was such a thing. I wonder how many of those adults told the story of the excited little girl that just wanted to sit by the big window and enjoy her adventure?
Ken, I had never thought about it this way. I am so appreciative of you taking time to share your thoughts. This puts such a different light on that trip.How wonderful.
Great story with a lot of deep meaning. It is quite true that we sometimes (often) never know what impact we can and do make on others. I’m sure the people on that bus have no concept of how their silence impacted you and you have no way to tell them now.
Ken, thank you so much for taking time to comment. I sent my column to the bus company and have circulated it various places. That has helped me with the not being able to tell the riders personally. I also work at living so each one of them would, maybe, be pleased. Thank you again,
Shirley T