A Bus Ride

An AOF story about difference.
By Matt Brown

I grew up in an all-white suburb of Boston, we vacationed in all-white places in all-white states. My exposure to people who did not look like me was nil. I think I was in tenth grade when my mother started as a volunteer driver for a program called METCO. I can't remember what the acronym is for and I probably never knew, but it was a program in the early 70s intended to give "inner city kids" access to the wealthier, better equipped suburban schools. This program was a precursor to bussing, which officially started a few years later, resulted in many a disaster, and is now remembered in infamy. 

As I mentioned, my mother was one of the volunteers who provided transportation for the program, and we had a VW bus. In the afternoons, after school let out, I would often accompany my mother on her route, returning kids to their homes. Because of our car we could take a small crowd; it was loud and fun, with lots of chatter, and I listened. I was introduced to people who didn't look like me living in neighborhoods I had not been to and knew nothing about. I sat up and took notice, I could feel a visceral reaction I had not anticipated, a jolt to my senses. I did not know anything of the struggles or challenges or daily stressors these kids and their families dealt with but in a naive way, I began to understand there was an alternative to the way my family lived, or maybe it was more that I had suddenly become acutely aware of my circumstances, my community, and my privilege.
 
Matt, now happily retired, lives with his wife, Lia Rivamonte, in St Paul and has been a member of Unity Church for 25 years.