For several years I have needed to maintain a monthly calendar so that I don’t get confused and miss a breakfast or lunch with former colleagues or classmates. My calendar also reminds me of evening meetings and sporting events. My wife, Lyn, and I share copies of our calendars and circle the events that both of us will attend. 
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One of the breakfasts involves former employees of Sodrel Truck Lines/Free Enterprise Charter Bus Co. We meet at Sister’s Restaurant on Madison Avenue. A couple of months ago one of the regulars, retired Indianapolis firefighter Leo Canfield, told me about a couple of new things that he was getting involved in and enjoying.

He explained that he was involved in a program through St. Andrews United Methodist Church to provide bakery goods to neighbors around the church on a monthly basis. This reminded me of the programs that Lyn volunteers with at Anna’s House on the Near Northwestside.

Leo explained that he had a good connection and was able to get baked goods from a large bakery in the southern part of the state. He pulls a large trailer down to the store and loads it a couple of days before the distribution date at the church. He also explained that on a different day he picks up a trailer load of bakery goods for a Native American community north of Indianapolis. I was intrigued with this and asked if it would be possible to ride along on one of his deliveries.

Leo asked me if I would like to visit his church on the morning that the food was distributed. He thought it might make a good article for the newspaper. 

A couple of days before I was going to make my visit, I entered the church’s address into my computer and printed out the directions. Leo asked me to be there by 8 a.m. I arrived at 2650 S. Villa Ave. by 7:50 a.m. and pulled in the parking lot. I was the only car in the lot. I drove around the property and didn’t see a soul. 
My phone ran around 8:15 a.m., and it was Leo’s wife, Sharon. She asked if I was about there, and I told her that I was sitting in my car in the south lot. She told me she was standing in the south lot and I wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I didn’t see her around either. I said I was at 2650 S. Villa.

She asked me travel 2 blocks north. She told me that I would see her standing there. Sure enough she was in the south lot of another church at 2560 S. Villa. We looked at each other and shook our heads. What were the odds of there being two churches on Villa? One at 2650 and one at 2560.

I said Leo gave me the wrong address, but he stated that I probably didn’t write the numbers down properly. This banter went on for the rest of the morning. 

I had the opportunity to meet and visit with the Revs. Ron and Marilyn Haun. Also with us was Linda Madagame, who is working with the Hauns in establishing the first United Methodist Native American congregation.

I was impressed with the entire morning – once I arrived at the proper location – and I’m going to forward the information that I was given to the full-time staff at The Southsider Voice.

I’m still going to travel with Leo up north to deliver a trailer load of bread soon, I hope.

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. 

​I have been having fun discussing school bus drivers from the past and present. I was interviewed on WIBC a couple of weeks ago by Terri Stacy, who talked with me about my years driving a school bus and my partner, Stuart, my therapy dog. Terri mentioned that she remembered her bus driver and how much she enjoyed all of those memories.

That kicked in some of my memories. When I was in the first grade I was assigned to Bus No. 14, and my bus stop was at the corner of Madison Avenue and Thompson Road. I was lucky because I could stand inside Heath’s Grocery Store in bad weather.

The first day of school was anything but easy for me. I remember walking to my bus stop and waiting for the bus. It seemed like I had waited a long time. I was told that the bus would be coming from the direction that would allow me to get on it without crossing the road. I watched and watched but never saw a bus.

I finally walked into the store and spoke to the cashier, who had seen me waiting for the bus. She hadn’t seen a bus either. While we were talking we noticed an old blue and white bus come to a stop at the intersection. We thought nothing of that because we were looking for a school bus.

After a long period of time I was encouraged to go home and explain to my mother what had happened. At that time my mother had not obtained a driver’s license. I believe she walked me to school that morning. 

When we arrived at Edgewood Grade School we reported to the office. We were informed that Steve Tilson, my bus driver, was new on the job and should have been driving a brand-new bus. His bus had not been delivered yet, so he was driving an old blue and white one and had been running very late. 

Mr. Tilson drove that old blue bus for several days before he got his new one. My bus stop was one of the last stops on his route in the morning and evening. The buses were often overloaded in those days.

 Edgewood had Grades 1-8 in the building at that time. On Bus No. 14 we had an older student who played a large string bass for the band and orchestra. He needed to stand in the aisle and hold his instrument, which made it difficult for students to get past him.

Mr. Tilson, who lived on McFarland Road across from St. Jude Church, owned a small drugstore on Madison just north of where Harold’s Car Wash was later built. I often think about him when I drive past those locations.

Later, I rode with Norwood Epler, who drove Bus No. 12.  I caught his bus at Madison and Morgan Drive. 
During my days at Southport High School my dad became a bus driver for Perry Township, but I was never assigned to his bus. I quickly understood that this was a good thing since my dad was outside of the school office twice a day. I don’t remember any of the school staff going out to his bus to tell him what a great student I was.

Just as Terri Stacy has good memories of her bus drivers, I do also.

About three or four years after graduating from Southport, I started making school bus memories again. Except this time I was the driver. I enjoy many of those memories.

I have always enjoyed reading newspapers. As a young boy my dad read the comics to my sister and me. There was a continuing story about a gentleman rabbit named Uncle Wiggley Longears. I know I have a book with several Uncle Wiggley stories in it. I have taken it to a couple of schools and read some of the stories to students.

My next connection with newspapers was my first afternoon paper route. I picked up my papers at a small metal building that was owned by the newspaper company. The manager of the building was Pastor Barth.

One of the first things that I read each day was printed in the upper right-hand corner of the front page. It told how many pages were in that day’s edition. That gave us an idea of the load to be carried on our bicycles.
When my father opened his Sunoco service station on Madison Avenue, I became familiar with The Perry Township Weekly and The Spotlight, which were free papers that covered the Southside. They were home-delivered and also available at local businesses every week. We placed ads in those papers when we had special sales going on. I became addicted to these papers and had The Spotlight mailed to me when I lived out of state.

During my time in Southern California I subscribed to a good newspaper based in Orange County. And when I lived in Grand Rapids, Mich., I took a daily newspaper. I looked forward to reading them each day. But the best day was when The Spotlight came in the mail.

When I moved back to the Southside after living in Michigan, I got reconnected with Jerry Cosby, who owned and published The Spotlight. It took me awhile to get used to the only daily paper being a morning one.

In July 2011, I was helping to promote a program that The Southport/Perry Township Historical Society was putting together along with family members who had owned Longacre Pool and Park in the 1950s and ’60s. The ladies who own The Southsider Voice were assisting us in promoting the program.  

One day Kelly Sawyers asked if I would be interested in writing a column. She was amused with the stories I told, and she said I could share some of those tales in print. 

My first article was about the roundball capital of the Southside – Edgewood Grade School – which had at least 11 outside basketball courts. I wrote about some of the guys who played there as kids and young men and went on to be outstanding college and professional players. 

I still enjoy reading daily and weekly newspapers. 
There was an article in The Indianapolis Star on Sunday about a cancer-stricken mother attending her daughter’s state championship soccer game. The mom is sick and was determined to attend the game. Her daughter’s team won their game, and the entire team climbed their way to the suite to celebrate with her. It is difficult to read an article like that while wiping away the tears. 

One of the weekly contributors to The Voice has retired. I am going to miss Mike Redmond’s column. I have enjoyed his work for years. Thanks, Mike.

Thanks to everyone who reads The Voice ... and for that matter, newspapers in general.