Opinion

Travis Rudloff, Columnist|Jul 25, 2019

Fourteen years ago, I remember sitting at the top of our long gravel lane that hugs the side of the Royal Road. I was sitting in the passenger seat of Dad's beat up, white 1999 Dodge pickup. I eagerly waited for Terry to pick me up in that big yellow bus with the number '96' stuck to the side. That bus would drive the short eight miles to town and deposit me at the front doors of Clearwater Public School. I would eagerly enter the building, wait in line, and go directly into Miss Grebin's...