Theme week seven

Every school day for 12 years he opened the bus door for me. He was old on my first day of school and didn’t seem to age at all over those 12 years. His face was wrinkled and always looked dirty. His beard was unkempt, with streaks of tobacco juice through it. “Morning kids”, was the greeting, I got when I was five, and “Morning kids” was the greeting I got at 18. Old Zeke, he was consistent.

Old Zeke dressed the same every day, green work pants, blue flannel shirt, and red suspenders. Day after day, that same outfit met me when I got on the bus. If he didn’t have a cigarette in his mouth, it was full of chewing tobacco. It wasn’t until I was about 12, I would guess, I realized that his outfit never changed, no matter the weather, no matter the season. That same outfit is also when I started to think of Zeke as a person. In my twelve year old mind it was inconceivable that someone would wear the same clothes every day, and I was really obsessed by it.

I sat in the front of the bus (the geek seat) for the next week, trying to get the courage up to talk to him. Finally I asked him why he drove the bus, and got a clipped “it’s a job” for the answer. He had become somewhat of a fixation for me (probably they’d call me a stalker today), but there had to be an intriguing story, I was sure of it. After a few more days in the geek seat, he talked a little bit more. His voice was raspy and phlegm filled, from years of smoking, I suspect. He talked about the weather, he talked about the roads, but never the stuff I wanted to hear. What the hell would make a guy wear the same clothes every day?

Finally after a couple months of chit chat, I asked him what he did before he drove the bus. For the next five minutes, I got a lesson in WWII history, better than anything I could have read in a text book. Zeke told me about landing in Normandy, and being thankful he’d made it home. He and I talked every morning after that, first about the war, then about returning home. Zeke told me he’d had a girl before he went “over there”, but when he got back, she’s found someone new. His parents had both passed away while he was gone, and Zeke had come home to find he had no one. In his blasé way, he described having his life torn out from under him, like most talk about buying socks. By my senior year, I knew more about WWII and it’s after effects on soldiers than any textbook could have ever taught me.

I never found out why Zeke wore the same outfit every day and after a while I forgot that had been my goal. I had made friends with a truly unique man. They friendship I developed with him is one of the most memorable friendships of my school years. I have forgotten the names and faces of those my own age, but I have never forgotten Zeke.