An unflappable child: The time my son, Douglas, got left behind in San Francisco | Opinion
It was 4:00 in the afternoon.
As I glanced at the clock, I thought, “It’s about time for Douglas to call to be picked up at school.” He had spent the day on a field trip to the Exploratorium in San Francisco along with other honor roll students from Elkhorn School in Castroville.
The phone did ring. And it was my nine-year-old fourth grader. But the message was not, “I’m at school. Come and get me.” No. Without hesitation, Douglas said, “Hi Mom, the bus is gone and I’m still in San Francisco.”
Opinion
Gulp. What?
The year being 1977, there were no cell phones. Thank goodness I had had the forethought to teach my boys how to make a collect call from a phone booth. And thank goodness Douglas was precocious and totally unflappable. Seeing himself alone on a crowded street in a city he knew nothing about, his first thought was, “I guess I’d better call Mom.” No panic. No blame. And for goodness’ sake, no tears. Not for Douglas.
His first question? “Mom, I have a dollar left. Can I buy a Chinese yoyo from the woman on the sidewalk?” So very Douglas.
Being sure to keep my voice calm and control my rising panic, I asked, “Are you still at the Exploratorium?”
“No, Mom. We left there and came to this place. I don’t know where I am.”
“Douglas, I need you to look around outside the phone booth and see if you can spot a nice, grandma-like person and ask her where you are.”
“Can’t I just read you the address off the phone?”
Have I mentioned that Douglas was totally unflappable?
“Yes,” I said, “that works.”
Once I had the location, I told him to absolutely remain exactly where he was.
“Don’t move,” I said, “for any reason whatsoever.”
I told him I was going to contact the police and they would come and pick him up. I got the number of the phone he was using so I could call him back to confirm arrangements once I talked to the police.
“Okay, Mom. But can I buy a Chinese yoyo while I’m waiting?”
“Yes, Bumpy (my love name for him), but otherwise don’t move. I’ll call you back as soon as I talk to the police.”
When I was connected to the police station closest to him, I was assured that they would pick Douglas up “as soon as we have an officer available. We have to prioritize our efforts. We’re really busy right now.”
What? What’s more important than my child, lost and alone in your huge city?
When I gave the officer the address of the phone booth, he said, “Oh, that’s Ghirardelli Square.” He went on to say that once they had Douglas in their custody, they would release him only to his parents. He said he would call back as soon as they had him and would give me the precinct address where we could pick him up.
I called my husband. He made arrangements to come home so we could drive to the city.
Then I called the school. Douglas’ third grade teacher, Mrs. MacMurray, chanced to answer the phone. I told her what was happening. There was a smile in her voice when she said, “Of all people who might be caught in a situation like this, Douglas would know how to handle himself. He’ll be just fine. I’ll let the principal know what’s going on.”
When we arrived at the police station, we found ourselves in a small waiting area looking through bullet-proof glass into a room churning with activity — officers at desks, handcuffed prisoners, ringing phones and piles of paper being processed. And there, in the middle of it all, Chinese yoyo flitting in and out, sat Douglas. Officer’s hat on his head, feet kicking back-and-forth, he sat on a big wooden chair, all of his attention on the report his police “partner” was filling out as he interviewed a handcuffed individual seated in front of him.
Spotting us through the large window as we waited our turn, Douglas jumped up from his chair, ran over and opened the one-way door just a crack, stuck his head out and said, “Thanks for coming, but I can’t leave now. We’re booking a suspect.”
He then closed the door and ran back to his chair without a backward glance.
Eventually, of course, they were more than happy to relinquish custody and reunite us with our son.
We later learned the following: Douglas was waiting in a line with all the other kids and chaperones when the teacher spotted their bus down an alleyway.
“Follow me,” he said. Douglas was looking the other way, watching the Chinese yoyo lady. When he turned around, he was alone.
“Where’s Doug?” one of the mothers said as the bus languished in stop-and-go traffic near the Cow Palace on 101.
Mr. Garrett, the teacher in charge, immediately told the bus driver to turn around and go back.
Turn a large yellow bus full of children around on 101 during rush hour? That took some time.
Mr. Garrett instructed the driver to go back to Ghirardelli Square. He then jumped off the bus and ran frantically through the area looking for Douglas.
He never contacted security. He never called the police.
Finally, he called the school and learned that disaster had been averted — by a small boy who was unflappable.
Bunny Stevens lives in Modesto, her hometown, and has served on The Modesto Bee Community Advisory Board. She is the opening courtesy clerk at the Safeway supermarket on McHenry Avenue and an ordained minister in the Universal Life Church. She has also been known to represent the Easter Bunny and Santa’s Elf for children of all ages. Reach her at BunnyinModesto@gmail.com
