Traffic Light

Spring of 1970 two days after hearing that my Uncle Timmy had been wounded in Viet Nam, it was to be the biggest day I could remember for our small town, Black Bear. The school was to be let out early, being let out early was always a big deal for a fifth grader, especially on a warm sunny day. The word was that everyone in town was going to be there. The school was to be let out and the local mill would operate on a skeleton crew to allow for the local to attend. The mayor, Lech “The Polock” Duda was to host the ceremony. People of various levels of importance within our community were to speak. Citizens of day’s past and current civil leaders were to chime in about the significance of this day.

Black Bear was getting its first traffic light. There’s no doubt that the rest of civilization would smirk if told of the big trappings being applied to such a small town affair, but from the view of our community a traffic light assured us that we were a part of modern day civilization; we were part of the world. Black Bear was moving into the 20^th century. We were not going to deny progress. Not in Black Bear that’s for sure.

There hadn’t been this much excitement since the town council had voted to blacktop the main street, Cadillac Avenue. Prior to blacktop Cadillac Avenue was oiled every June to keep the dust down from the logging trucks. It was discovered years later that the substance they used to hold down the dust for the main street was cancerous but hell most of the adults of Black Bear drank and smoked anyway and if that didn’t kill them a jealous spouse or an industrial accident would.

At one o’clock the school was released and we were instructed to walk in groups to the town center and meet at the baseball diamond. Mr. Shenk made it clear that all of us were to sit on the south bleacher and not the north bleachers. That was the first time I realized there was a geographical difference between the bleachers. I had thought that one side was visitors and the other side was for the home team. At least the home bleachers were covered even though they were now to be known as the north bleachers. Mr. Shenk had a knack for being so precise and I think a little problem with control.

When the group of us kids arrived at the baseball diamond the home or north bleachers were filling up with adults and the visitors or south bleachers were filling up with students. Phil and I found our place on the top bleacher so we could get a better look at the traffic light that was to be unveiled by the mayor. We both could see what appeared to be the light hanging over the intersection of Mill Road and Cadillac Avenue covered with a green tarp that was connected to a long rope that lead to a stage and dais that had been erected for the mayor.

Mayor Duda was working the crowd of adults, clasping hands, patting backs, kissing old lady’s cheeks and telling the latest Polock jokes. After every joke his laugh would demand attention of others too far away to hear the joke. His laugh solicited more laughs without knowing what had been said. Phil and I looked at each other, rolled our eyes and chuckled at the mayor and the adults that all wanted to be seen with him.

I looked around and saw most of the people I knew except for my mother and father and my grandparents who had stayed home just in case they received a call about Uncle Timmy. I saw my first love that crushed my heart, Kandi; she was sitting prim and proper with her new boyfriend Steve. Steve was an older kid who was doing his second term as a sixth grader. I figured Kandi only went out with him because it made her feel superior to the guys in our class. Plus she had already broken the hearts of all the boys in our class except for Phil’s. Mr. Shenk stood stiff and erect with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed staring at Phil and I, as if he thought he was going to have to drag the two of us off for a good paddling. He always reminded me of a cat that was stalking a small animal, laying in wait, looking for the most opportune time to leap on it’s prey and bite the smaller animals neck until it died.

The mayor approached the podium, shook more hands, the owner of the mill, the owner and operator of the general store and several other old men that owned everything else in Black Bear. As Mayor Duda neared the dais the school band began to play which was followed by the town’s fire alarm. The fire alarm was donated to Black Bear when I was in the first grade. There hadn’t been such a celebration for its inauguration but the alarm still was seen as a vital part of our community. The alarm was sounded ever weekday at noon and at the curfew hour, ten o’clock every evening.

Once the alarm ebbed its whirling gravelling sound the band played the national anthem as both bleachers stood and saluted the American flag flapping proudly behind the cage that separated the home plate from the bleachers. Mayor Duda tapped the microphone and when he received the attention of those in attendance he told us the newest Polock joke. Something about bottle opening instructions being printed on the bottom of the coke bottles in Poland. I never really got the dumb jokes Mayor Duda prided, but it seemed to give him a lot of staying power.

“People of Black Bear thank you for attending this ceremony. Thank you for taking time out of your busy lives to be here today,” the mayor began. “Today it is my pleasure to present to you great folks, the key to modernization for Black Bear, Oregon. Our very own stop light.” He then tugged on the rope that was attached to the green tarp and the tarp fell to the ground revealing the 20^th century. There hanging from two power lines that crossed each other above the intersection was a brand new traffic light. Then someone was given the signal and power was supplied to the light. Red, yellow and then green lights shown, the people of Black Bear laughed and cheered and greeted each other with glee. Elder men and women who had spent most of their lives in Black Bear seemed to be the most excited school kids like Phil and I had far less enthusiasm for such celebration.

Then the crowd fell quiet as the first car approached the light, it was my family’s car. My dad was driving, mom was sitting in the front seat with him and my grandparents sat in the back seat. My interest peaked; my family was going to be the first people to use the light. Dad slowly stopped at the red light as he approached the crosswalk on Cadillac Avenue. The crowd cheered and laughed and the mayor wore a broad smile as well. When the light turned green the crowd continued their excitement, dad eyed me drove through the light and pulled over next to the south bleachers.

My parents didn’t give the impression they were all that impressed with the historical significance they had just experienced. Dad wore the look on his face as if his molar tooth had been acting up again. Mom stared at something in her hand and my grandparents seemed to be crying. Dad got out of the car and approached the bleachers. He looked up to me with tears in his eyes and said, “Frankie you need to go home, son.”

I climbed down the bleachers and walked over to the car, “Dad you were the first to use the light, man that was cool.” I informed him with my new sense of local celebrity.

“Frankie, Uncle Timmy, we were just notified that um,” dad wiped a tear from his cheek and eyes, “Timmy died son.”

I felt like my heart was ripped from me, trying not to let those around us know there was despair I walked to my dad and he knelt down to hug me. “Son we have to go.” Dad led me to the car where mom, Grandma and Grandpa sat in pain.

We drove off toward home through the traffic light being the first and second people to use the traffic light. The crowd cheered again as we drove away. Black Bear had leaped into the 20^th century traffic light or not.