Well, now it is officially 40 years since the move from Beacon, New York (50 miles south of here) to Tivoli. Clay Hill Road was a dirt road then. For that reason, the school bus would not come down it, so Maria, who was in Kindergarten, was escorted to the end of the road at 9G with our neighbors Tony Staffiero and Michael Barrett, who were a few years older. Within the next two years the road was paved, but the school now thought it too windy for the bus to come down so the kids still had to wait at the corner with no protection in bad weather and no supervision. Two things happened that made both Mrs. Barrett and myself avid letter writers to the school, demanding the bus to travel Clay Hill and pick up the children at their homes as was done on all the other streets in Tivoli. At this time I had Maria and Laura and Jan Barrett had Lisa and Michael and along with Tony, they all waited at the 9G intersection. With such a group boringly waiting for the bus, things were bound to happen. First, we heard about lunches being thrown into the road for the passing cars to run over. Apparently, a banana was missed and one of the kids was almost run over running out to retrieve it for another throw. Then, on a cold, frigid day, Lisa was urged to put her tongue on the Clay Hill Road sign (just like in Christmas Story) only she ripped it off when she found her tongue stuck and the bus arrived. The little trouper got on the bus, but the school nurse called her home to report her swollen and sore tongue. Now we had safety issues as our main letter writing concern. Either the letters worked or some morning commuter called the school about kids throwing bananas at cars, anyway the school decided the bus could make the detour onto Clay Hill Road and it still does today. My grandson Solomon lives next door and every morning I go and wait with his mother and brother Henry to put Solomon on the bus. The kids still look the same as they did 40 years ago, staring vacantly out the windows, sometimes raising a hand to wave or just giving us disgusted looks as the bus pulls away. I could tell them it's my fault the bus has to come down Clay Hill Road, but I don't think they'd care.