May They All Come Home

The scalding water poured into the sink, creating clouds of bubbles and lemon-scented steam that fogged Jessica's glasses as she bent over the cookie sheet and scoured at the-what WAS this stuff?- gummy goop that appeared no matter how diligent she was about using parchment paper when she baked.

Because no matter how you prepare things happen that you don't want to happen. Things. Bad things.

_

The baking flurry started as a way to keep her hands busy and away from her phone; it was either that or ironing and Jessica devoutly hoped she wasn't so desperate that ironing was needed. Deciding to triple the cookie recipe was ideal because it meant math and that needed her full attention.

Now, though. Now she was done and facing the issue of what to do with dozens of cookies that she couldn't eat because: sugar. So scrubbing these pans will have to do.

She couldn't go back to the phone. To breaking alerts. To thoughts and prayer. To revised fatalities, transcripts of press briefings, and the thought that a second grade child had called 911 to report a school shooting.

"Second grade", she mutter to herself. "How do you send that child back to school? How do any of those children go back to school? How do their parents bear it? How does any parent bear it?"

Jessica closed her eyes and remembered that hot sunny day over thirty years ago when she had a second grade child.

-

Walking towards the Nazarene church in the July heat, Jessica wondered to herself just why it might be that churches don't have nice shady trees in the front of their building. As she walked from the berm onto the parking lot the reflected heat from a full day in the sun radiated upwards, toasting her feet through her jelly shoes and making her steps more quickly towards the partial-shade of the building.

She leaned back against the brick face of the small church only to stand upright the moment her bare shoulders touched the bricks that had toasted in full sunlight most of the day. Fortunately, the bus from Girl Scout camp was due any moment now.

When she'd driven her Scouts to camp this morning she'd been ready to work in the kitchen until the day camp was over, but for once they had plenty of volunteers. her Scouts wanted to drive back in the bus with their friends, and Jessica thought a morning to catch up on grocery shopping and laundry before her night shift at the mall was an unexpected gift.

With those tasks completed, and after a walk of just a few blocks, waiting with the other parents for their Scouts to get off the chartered bus and then heading home for dinner before Ned got home were the next items on her to-do list. And, look- that's their school bus coming around the corner hand heading towards the intersection now.

The bus, with its 'Charter Service' sign in the small transom window, was indeed approaching the intersection, decreasing its already slow speed as it neared the red light.

Jessica, along with the other parents, took a few steps towards the steps of the church, ready to gather their Scouts as the disembarked from the bus. They weren't in a hurry, because that was one of the slowest-turning lights around. With a five road intersection it took a while to cycle back to green.

"HEY!", yelled Shelley, one of the assistant Scout leaders, "What is he doing?" Jessica shaded her eyes against the sun and watched the bus go through the light. She started to run as it continued across the four lanes of traffic, and she was with some of the fastest parents as it bumped across the sidewalk, small berm, and slid to a stop on the blacktop.

The door slowly swung open and Jessica wasn't sure who was making more noise, the Scouts or the parents. Several elementary-aged Scouts clambered down the steps into the arms of their waiting parents. Jessica took three short steps up into the bus seeking her Brownie and Cadette. Spotting them waiting their turn at the back of the bus, she turned towards the driver.

"What is wrong with you!?! Are you sick? Are you drunk? What were you thinking?!," she hissed loudly. The driver didn't look at her, he remained staring straight ahead through the big windshield.

"I want to see your license! Show me your license", she demanded. Still wordless he handed her the plastic cardholder. Glancing down at the same expressionless face still avoiding hers, she froze. It had expired six months ago. Who had hired this person? How could someone without a valid license drive Scouts to and from day camp?

That evening, after the kids had dinner and the story of the exciting return from camp was told to Dad, Jessica explained she would be driving to camp each day and had room for each to bring a friend along if their parents approved.

Later, during her 'lunchbreak' she started the phone calls. The local Girl Scout office to determine who had hired the driver. That was a quick call. Then the local bus company to see who had approved the hire. That call took longer.

"I need you to understand- that person could have killed my children, all of our children. They had no reason to be driving a bus... Well I don't care that they told you it was valid...No; that makes no sense...Yes; I would have sued you and right now I.... Actually: who is your insurance company? Yes- that's what I asked. Who insures you?"

"Why? Well I think they would be interested in learning that you hire unlicensed drivers, for a start. I imagine at the very least your rates will go up if not then you'll be dropped... What? Oh no, no I don't care. You can lose your contract with the Scouts... yes- and with the school. I want them fired. Yes. Fired. And a phone call from you that they are no longer driving. Yes. Yes, you can call me here or at home. "

"When? Well that's easy- I want a call by 8 AM tomorrow morning before I drive my Scouts to camp. Because if I don't get that call? Then I will drop them off at camp then stand outside the Township building holding signs and a bullhorn until the local news comes and covers this story."

"Dude; I have all day. All day to draw attention to you. So I suggest you make that call tomorrow. These are my children that you were supposed to keep safe. You failed."

_

Jessica was surprised when she opened her eyes to realize that somehow she'd sat down at the kitchen table as she replayed that long ago memory. It had not been a popular decision when her Scouts realized they wouldn't take the bus to camp again. It had also taken some finessing at work to change her schedule to allow for the driving to and pick-up from camp the rest of the week.

But it had been worth it. She couldn't imagine seeing them climb back on that bus. Even though that driver has indeed been let go. That experience stayed with her, and she remembered checking the license of another driver, years later, to make sure that it had been valid. "Fooled me once," she mused.

They had been fortunate. All of the children were ok, even though the scare had lingered. Children. Parents. Neighborhoods. Churches. Schools. Scouts. The expectation should be that we all watch out for and keep the children safe. It seemed like that just wasn't possible these days. Jessica's heart broke for the parents and students that would return to schools tomorrow.

All of the Scouts came home that day. They all should come home. Everyday.

_

Author's note: Jessica convinced herself that things had changed from the time her Scouts were small. She thought that people had changed, and perhaps they had.

But the biggest change is the proliferation of information. News alerts blaring from any and all devices. Main stream media taking over from once-a-day newspapers and broadcast news sources.

This horrific table shows school shootings from 1970 through June 2022.Because one can find these things in neat, dispassionate tables on the internet. Tidy and clinical descriptions of violence towards and by students.

I have no easy answers. I suspect there are no easy answers.

But a good start would be sensible gun laws.