Growing up, I lived about a block from my elementary school, and by 2nd grade, I was walking to and from school on my own each day. To get to Turner Elementary, I had to cross National St., which isn't a particularly busy road, but had enough traffic that the school hired a crossing guard. The crossing guard that year was Mr. Kenneth Beardsley, a retired letter carrier for the US Postal Service. He was a truly remarkable man and very friendly to all the kids, keeping them safe each day. I enjoyed talking to Mr. Beardsley and would hang around during his shift, chatting with him in between letting kids cross the road. At one point, he jokingly told me I was a Jr. Crossing Guard, and that made my world.
While National St. wasn't busy, some people would fly down that road. Around this time, the speed limit was 35mph. One evening, I vented to my Dad about how crazy some people were and told him the police should make people drive more safely. Dad probed that thought and asked me what they meant in practice, and together we concluded that National St. needed a lower speed limit. He then encouraged me to be the change and suggested that I petition the city government to institute a school speed zone. This was in the early 90s, and the speed zones you know and love around schools today were not a thing at all.
Dad helped me make a petition, and I set out to gather signatures. I had many students, teachers, even the principal, and of course, Mr. Kenneth Beardsley as signatories. I ended up taking that petition to the mayor, Mr. Steven Lakics, whom I knew because he was in the same Kiwanis club as my Dad. I did my best to ride along to Kiwanis meetings on Saturday morning at St. Andrew's golf course because it was cool, and I could get pancakes. I told Mr. Lakics what I was up to, and he looked forward to receiving the petition.
Behind my house was an alley, then another row of homes, and my neighbor immediately across the alley was Mr. Gene Wind. Mr. Wind was my alderman, and as I recall, I gave him the petition. Then the wheels of government began to turn. I don't remember the specific sequence of events. Still, Mr. Wind presented the petition at a council meeting, and Mr. Lakics commissioned a study of traffic in and around Turner Elementary School. That study took an eternity for a second grader, and by the time third grade rolled around, I had all but forgotten my brief foray into politics.
The study determined that there should be reduced-speed zones around the school and all other schools in town. Later that year, signs went up, and I'd like to believe everyone around Turner drove a little more safely. Mr. Beardsley thought it was cool, and Mr. Wind was proud, and Dad was Dad, which was all good enough for me. Then one night at a City Council meeting, Mr. Lakics, who joked that it was past my bedtime, though I was up watching it thanks to a tip from Mr. Wind, issued a proclamation that October 15th of that year was Stanley Lemon Day. That was pretty cool.
A friend of mine at the time had a T-shirt made that said, "October 15th is Stanley Lemon Day". Somehow, that shirt survived decades at my mother's house, and my oldest daughter claimed it on a visit. She's worn it on October 15th for the last few years, and it always makes me smile.
My Dad passed away a little over two years ago, but not a day goes by that I don't think about him. October 15th is one of those days I look back and remember a loving father who was always teaching, in the classroom, at home, and probably at St. Andrews golf course on whatever Saturday of the month they met. He taught me a lot, including how to write a petition, gather signatures, effect change in my local government, and teach my own kids. So yeah, one year, October 15th was Stanley Lemon day in my little hometown of West Chicago, but every October 15th since has been I had a Great Dad Day for me. Love you, Dad.