When I see them, I often wonder what school crossing guards did in their earlier working life and what kind of stories they could tell. For example, I think, "Is that one an author of some renown? Has that one traveled to places I'd love to go? Do they speak a language I'd love to speak?"
This moment: Today as I walked by two elderly crossing guards talking to each other I overheard one say, "I was there that night at Woody's when KY cut that boy's head."
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The crossing guard at my school was a professional musician. He worked in regional (CT) orchestras and tried to make a go of it as a drummer in a band in Florida. He's a great guy, Sal.
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