TGIF

When I was in Grade School, I had a bus driver Named Frank. Frank was an older gentleman with dark hair and spoke with a New York accent coupled with a slight speech impediment. He had a medium build was about 5' 10". When you got onto the bus it sometimes smelled like cigarettes. (I think he had to calm himself before dealing with the rowdy disrespectful bunch that we were.) Some kids were worse than others. Nearly every one was rude and wild and disrespectful to Frank. I don't think every one came at that naturally, I think that it was the end of the day and we were all able to relax. Our bus was the oldest bus in the school district and if you sat on the back seat, you would be launched nearly to the roof at every bump. There was one sharp turn in particular on the way home that was always entertaining. Frank usually hit the turn hard enough that we all thought the bus would tip over. Some days, all of the kids would get on one side of the bus before the turn, and as Frank hit the turn we would simultaneously push all of our weight to the other side of the bus to try and make it tip over. One day I swear we got that thing on two wheels. The bus ride was always an adventure. Every Friday Frank would get on the intercom and say TGIF with his low funny voice. We always got a kick out of it not just because he talked funny but because we knew that he really meant it. We knew that he was sincerely glad it was Friday. Of all the games and the craziness I noticed that my older brother was never in on the fun. He always showed Frank Respect. I don't ever remember my brother getting crazy on the bus, and I don't remember a time that my brother didn't stop and tell Frank thanks for the ride. As small as it was I think that my brother being the way he was, meant something to Frank. I remember one Christmas my brother brought Frank a bag of Oranges. It wasn't much, but by the look on Frank's face and the tear in his eyes it meant something to him. It wasn't the oranges, it was the thought. I remember watching that and feeling a little sadness, and a lot of guilt for being the boy that I had been to Frank.
I'm sitting here, it's close to the end of the day and work week. I have had ups (Cindy getting a deer) and downs (fighting with contractors, that's another long story.) And I can truly sit back and say TGIF and mean it just as much as Frank did.
I crossed people this week that made me really mean TGIF when I said it, and I have crossed people who, with just the little things have made a difference to me weather they knew it or not.
The little things are easy, that's why we call them the little things.

I think that sometimes we forget that the little things are everything to someone who has nothing.