RON MALY HAS BEEN WATCHING THE PARADE GO BY FOR A LONG TIME. THIS IS ONE OF HIS WEBSITES.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

The Day I Wore My Cowboy Suit To Pre-School


By RON MALY

I'd like to write about public transportation for a few minutes.

I go way back with streetcars, buses, ships and airplanes, and I've had a number of adventures on all four of those types of travel.
Photo of a streetcar from the 1930s courtesy of Google

It all began when I was 4 years of age, and my mother enrolled me in pre-school classes in Cedar Rapids.

When I was 4, I thought I knew everything.

We had a car when I was 4. My dad bought a new 1937 two-door Chevy, and I rode in it a lot.

The Chevy turned out to be the only new car my dad was able to buy, and I was always happy he could swing the deal.

My brother wasn't born until 1940, so I was still the only star of the show in 1937, when I was 2, and in 1939, when I was 4.

Because my dad needed the '37 Chevy to drive to work at the big city fire station in downtown Cedar Rapids, my mother and I took the streetcar that stopped in front of our home on 18th Avenue Southwest so I could get to my pre-school classes.

I don't think I went to those classes every day of the week. 

Maybe just on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

On Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays and Sundays, I stayed home.

Or at least I was supposed to stay home.

But on one particular Tuesday or Thursday, I recall getting pretty darn adventuresome.

I was wearing what my mother and I called my "cowboy suit"--an outfit with fur [no doubt fake fur] on the legs, and maybe even the shirt and vest.

I probably also had a holster and a toy 6-shooter on my waist.

It was never intended that I should wear the cowboy suit to pre-school.

But one day I did.

Like I said earlier, on one particular Tuesday or Thursday, I got far too adventuresome.

With my cowboy suit on one morning, I was outdoors by myself.

I saw the streetcar coming down the hill.

So I proceeded to do what I thought I was supposed to do.

I got on the streetcar.

I must have had the money required for the trip or the driver would never have let me get on.

Actually, I don't know now why the driver even let a 4-year-old kid get on the streetcar at all, whether the kid had money or not.

Anyway, I knew where to get off the streetcar when it arrived downtown, and I knew the building where my pre-school classes were held.

When I arrived at the school, the teacher was immediately alarmed.

She said something like, "Ronnie, you're not supposed to be here today, and you're not supposed to be wearing your cowboy suit to school. I'm going to call your mother."

The teacher contacted my mother on the phone, saying something like, "Mrs. Maly, I'd like to put you at ease. Ronnie came to school today, wearing his cowboy suit, and he's not supposed to be here."

Arrangements were made to take me home, and my mother made it clear to me that if I ever took the streetcar downtown alone, whether I was wearing my cowboy suit or not, something bad was going to happen to me.

In recent years, I've talked about that episode a number of times with my family, but this is the first time I've ever written about it.

You know what?  I also intended to write about the bus trip I took yesterday in this column.

After all, my subject is supposed to be public transportation.

But I've already written enough this morning.

I'll save the bus story for another day.

Down the road, I'll maybe write about some of the airplane and boat trips I've taken, too.

Right now, though, it's time to pour another cup of coffee. 

I'll see you later.