Farewell Deke N. Blue

A shout out to my brothers and sisters 
at rail. I'm sorry to have never written
your stories. My love for you however
is as true as that for my fellow
bus operators.

Deke's Note: See below.

I have tried many times to end this odyssey, with no success. It should have happened long ago. But some habits, even good ones as you know, are difficult to overcome. This time, I have to do it. 

Once upon a time, I began writing about a new and exciting career. Across the street from where I now sit. My sons were teens, I was nearly a decade younger and still full of testosterone-charged vitality.

As I gaze out this Alice's House window, the early morning sunshine illuminates the house we all shared much joy together as my family and I matured. The property has taken on new life with my now-neighbor's vision. It looks different, but comforting in its memories. In this house, my dear friend Alice Crader once lived. I would often venture over as she sat on the porch just outside this window, just to chat with our neighborhood matriarch. 

Alice loved to read, and was very supportive of my writing. Because I love roses, I often deadheaded her blooms with my ever-present pruning shears. We talked of anything and everything as we watched my sons and their friends playing basketball on yonder hoop. Little did I know, Alice's House would become my Forever Home. We are only the seconds here... Alice designed and had this home built to her specifications. We love it so very much.

Across the street, FromTheDriverSide was born as I sat at the keyboard wondering "what the hell should I write next?" Writing is my soul’s mirror. Thoughts reflected me, and became words via fingertips. I wrote strange nothings or short stories, always searching for a muse. Then one night as a rookie bus operator, I thought it would be cool to write a journal of sorts about my life as a bus operator. Along the way, I documented several feelings related to those who make the wheels roll.

Early on, Al Margulies (RANTINGS OF A FORMER TRIMET BUS OPERATOR) asked "who is this guy?". He marveled over my comment that people were dangerously-close to being squashed "flatter than a sand dollar on diet pills". Later, he chuckled at my comment that some people were "too lazy to masturbate". He has constantly plugged this blog on his own, and once interviewed me live online about my book as I excused myself on a date with my Beloved. Thanks, Al... your support has always been more than a word digger could have imagined.

Next came another new friend and brother Tom Horton. He helped edit my book, encouraging me every step. When OPB's Think Out Loud interviewed me, he sat in the "Green Room" with Beloved and listened as I stumbled through the grilling I received. Tom has been conspicuously absent from my life the past few years, and I miss him. But he has dealt with many personal obstacles and I love him enough to leave him be. Even so, thank you Tom for being one of my earliest and most constant supporters.

Having been read across this magnificent globe has been my most rewarding accomplishment. We who do the work of transit often have similar feelings no matter where our buses roll. To have my words viscerally felt by hundreds of kindred souls is my treasured honor. I have always written what it feels as THIS operator; to know that it resonates with my fellows makes it difficult to stop.

Along the way, I have made some incredible friendships with many I hope to someday meet in person. Fellow writers Robert at bustropical.org in Florida, Author Billy Alsheimer in Rhode Island, Bruce Whalley in Melbourne Australia, Tommy Tompkins (TommyTransit.com) have inspired me along the way, and impressed me with their individually-creative insights on transit. Although we operate across separate continents, there are parallels which bind us together in this strange world of transit. The parallels and perils of our profession draw us closer than than the miles which separate us. I dream of a Meeting of Artistic Transit Minds someday, where each of us (and others not necessarily or immediately known to this group) come together. If Billy has his own dream realized, I hope to help.

Most of all, I thank my Beloved. She has endured being referred to as "Mrs. Blue", which she detests. She has supported me through my many episodes of self-doubt with steadfast devotion to my craft, edited my ill-advised phrases, soothed my mistakes over which I feared the worst, helped edit the book and celebrated each triumph these past eight years. Beloved is my First Reader, my most revered and trusted critic, and the first editor of any word that might be misconstrued. Mostly, she is the dampening of my excesses, the balance to my excesses. Beloved brings peace when life seems all turned turvy. Thank you, my sweetest dearest love. Hopefully this endeavor grows into something much greater.

To write my experiences as a bus operator has rewarded me in more ways than I can describe. Mostly, I hope I have done honor to a profession that is often ignored unless something tragic occurs. My tales have been in dedication to the thousands who grasp the wheel no matter what confronts us. We are often assailed by the riding public and those who oversee our every moment in service, but we persevere.

Deke's Note: This was meant to be the "last" one, but I found the voice once again to hopefully do justice to eight years of writing. You want to read it, go ahead. It's just above this one.