I drove school buses at three different periods of time, and I have some great memories of those years.

My initial experience was contracting a small fleet to Perry Township Schools when I was in my mid- to late 20s. Much later I operated a bus for Beech Grove Schools. I am still good friends with  some of my former fellow workers and riders. It is so cool to reconnect with former riders and get caught up on their lives. 

Today I’m thinking about Carly Brooke, 15, who just finished her freshman year at Roncalli. I met her several years ago when she sang at one of The Southsider Voice’s cruise-ins.

It has been a pleasure to get to know Carly and her family. Carly won first place in a musical/singing competition at the Marion County Fair in 2010. Can you imagine an 8-year-old singing country music and playing a guitar and winning the competition at the fair three years in a row?

She has also competed at the Indiana State Fair, and she sang the national anthem at a Colts home game in 2015, which received rave reviews and can be seen on Facebook. She has also sang at Pacers and Indians games and the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.

Carly has sang regularly for Teddy’s Burger Joint since she was 11 and as of last year started singing at the Stacked Pickle in Southport and Greenwood.  

Carly’s career has blossomed through the support of her family, and they have traveled to Nashville, Tenn., over the past several years so she can take the stage there. She is especially thankful for all the support she has received from her hometown of Beech Grove. From performing in the Fall Festival to riding in the parade, she has always felt backed by her community, particularly Mayor Dennis Buckley. 

A few months ago I saw on Facebook that they were moving to Nashville on July 28. The notice invited friends to stop by their house last Saturday. My wife, Lyn, had a busy day scheduled, but Stuart, our therapy dog, and I went to her farewell party. 

I watched what was going on with mixed emotions. It was cool to see the family all working to get ready for the big move, but it was sad to see them leaving their family and friends. As I stood in their yard and thought about that, it occurred to me that this probably happens to families each time they make a major move. It happened to me a few times, and I know it’s difficult.

I talked with Carly and her mom, Stacey, about sending me occasional updates on what Carly will be doing in Nashville. 

It always amazes me when I find connections between friends. I saw one of Stacey’s Facebook comments that they were trying to get to Mrs. Curls Ice Cream Shop. Our former neighbors Dave and Carlene Alexander owned Mrs. Curls for several years.

We hope Carly and her family have a safe trip and enjoy this next chapter in their lives. 
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And although Carly is looking forward to what Nashville will bring, she will always remember home.

I get a lot of enjoyment out of Facebook. I like posting and commenting on the fun things that I have been a part of and keeping friends up to date on what is going on with our family.

I enjoy reading comments from my friends and family that are also on Facebook. Once in a while I’ll read a posting where a friend is mad at someone and using Facebook to rant. I also notice political comments and sometimes even some nasty words or comments, but I don’t offer my opinion on those. 

Yesterday I saw something that I posted four years ago. It said, “My father didn’t tell me how to live life; he lived and let me watch him do it.”

I started thinking about him and how he enjoyed life. When I was a young boy he had a country pickup milk route in the Acton and Wanamaker areas and delivered the milk to a dairy in Indianapolis.

I remember riding with him, but I was too small to be of much help. Sometimes he hired a high school boy from the farm community to assist him during the summer. 

Many of the farms had closed gates at their driveways. When dad was working alone he would have to get out of his truck and open the gate. He then drove his truck onto the property and closed the gate before driving to the milk house. There were farm animals on the property and the gate could not be left open.

After unloading the empty cans that he picked up the day before and then loading the full cans onto the truck, he had to go through the gate process again. 

When he had a helper, the boy opened and closed the gates. I remember my father complementing those boys all the time and how fast they were, how strong they were, how quickly they responded to a problem, and lots of other things. It seemed to me that the more he complemented and encouraged them, the faster they ran and harder they worked.

I remember a few years later trying to do my best as I scampered out of the truck to open and close those gates. I recall a cousin riding with us one time and he seemed impressed with our teamwork at each farm as we gained entrance, exchanged empty cans for full ones and exited the property. 

When my father had a helper, he finished his route an hour earlier.

My father sold his route in the mid-1950s to open a Sunoco service station on Madison Avenue in the Edgewood area. I thought it was really cool that a couple of the boys who assisted him on his milk route came to work for him at the station.

As I look back I can see and understand some of my father’s management skills and how he would adjust a skill if it wasn’t providing the results he desired.

I was a junior high student when the station opened. We operated that business for about 10 years before moving to a larger facility in Southport. That building is now known as Long’s Bakery.

One of the main things that I learned from my father was, “Never miss a chance to learn something.”
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Shonk is a 1960 graduate of Southport High School, a ’63 grad of Indiana Central College (now the University of Indianapolis) and a retired bus driver from Beech Grove Schools. 

A year ago my wife, Lyn, along with a group of Southside folks went on a missions trip to Ecuador, where they spent a couple of weeks assisting a family in a poor neighborhood. They helped construct a small house and did lots of other tasks. They were housed in that neighborhood and got to know many of the residents. 

Lots of pictures were taken, and I’ve heard many great stories. They weren’t home long before a return trip was in the works. They departed July 1 and will return on the 15th. I think it’s real neat that they are returning to the same neighborhood. 

The downside of their trip last year was how things went back here at our house. I’m sure lots of you know that a member of our family is a handsome, black and white therapy dog named Stuart. The last few years Stuart has developed a tremendous dislike for thunderstorms and fireworks.

Last year he was upset that Lyn left the house one morning with travel suitcases and wasn’t home in time to go to bed that evening. His unrest seemed to grow each day, and that was multiplied by the sound of fireworks each evening.

There is a neighborhood fireworks display each year on the Fourth of July. I thought up a plan ... Stuart and I got in the car and went for a long ride. I played the radio loudly and once we were up to speed, Stuart settled down for a nice nap. The plan worked very well. By the time we returned home the fireworks were over and everyone was happy. 

We employ this plan when fireworks are going off in our neighborhood. Sometimes we start our trip by getting some of Ritter’s Frozen Custard. I have a self-made CD that I sing along with while on our trips. Stuart just lays in the passenger seat with his paws over his ears.

Since Stuart was unsettled the entire two weeks that Lyn was gone last year, I contacted the airport to see if therapy dogs were allowed to greet returning passengers. I was told that as long as Stuart’s paperwork was with us that he was allowed in the building.

We waited in the baggage claim area for them to arrive. Stuart got excited when he saw Lyn riding down the escalator.

We noticed that Stuart was a little upset when the large suitcases came out a couple of weeks ago. The great thing that I have noticed is that he isn’t as upset about Lyn’s absence as last year. I’m sure he is going to be very excited when we travel to the airport Saturday evening.

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There is a weekly television show called “Pet Pals TV,” which is hosted and produced by Patty Spitler. 

Patty and her guests tell stories about animals and the good things they and their owners do to help others. Stuart and I met with her last week, and there is a good chance that there might be a segment about him and his therapy work in the near future.

We had a busy week ... thunderstorms, fireworks, Mom gone to Ecuador and a television show interview.
Shonk is a 1960 graduate of Southport High School, a ’63 grad of Indiana Central College (now the University of Indianapolis) and a retired bus driver from Beech Grove Schools. 

For a few years after graduating from Southport High School, I worked full time at my dad’s Sunoco station and attended classes at Indiana Central College.  

Sometimes I needed some breakfast before opening the station at 6 a.m., so I got up extra early and drove to Morgan’s Restaurant, which was at the point between Madison Avenue and Brill Road. It was sort of a long drive from our house north of Banta Road, but coffee was only a nickel, including refills.

One morning while driving to the station, something strange happened. At that time Madison was still just two lanes. I was listening to the radio when I heard a loud roaring noise and my car shook violently. The sound lasted only a couple of seconds, and it was a bit scary.

I continued to the station and opened it. I was putting some stuff away in the storage room when I heard the loud noise again. 

I looked out a window to see a front-engine Indianapolis 500 roadster sitting out front. I noticed a driver climbing out of it. It was Joe Langley, a chief mechanic for an Indy 500 race team. His workshop was in a building behind his house on Madison. 

Joe had been testing his car by driving south on Madison while I was going north. I’m sure he was up to speed, and IndyCars do not have headlights. I only heard and felt him passing me.

We visited for a while and had some coffee and donuts from the bakery in the small strip center next to us. Joe then asked to borrow our service truck to drive back to his shop and get the portable starter that he needed to restart his car. 

When he returned he gave me a quick lesson on how to operate the starter, but we couldn’t get the car started. He then put me in the driver’s seat and took over the mechanic’s duties. The car started but would not stay running while I climbed out of the driver’s seat and Joe climbed in.  

After several failed attempts, Joe said I was going to have to drive the car back to his house. He gave me a few instructions and was fairly sure I could get the car home safely and in one piece.
 
Joe climbed into our service truck and told me that he was going to block all traffic at Epler and Madison. I was to wiggle through the stopped cars and drive to his house. 

He drove away and a couple of guys pushed me to get me going. I got through the intersection and drove to his house. The car stalled as I was going up the gravel driveway.

I climbed out of the car and told Joe that I really needed to return to the station. It didn’t occur to me until later that it had been daylight and there had been quite a bit of traffic by the time I was driving the car back to his house.

It was just the two of us driving back to his shop, and he beat me in our 1953 Ford pickup. But in my only time driving a real Indianapolis 500 Speedway roadster, I can boast that I finished second.
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Shonk is a 1960 graduate of Southport High School, a ’63 grad of Indiana Central College (now the University of Indianapolis) and a retired bus driver from Beech Grove Schools.