The story below is a preview from our January/February 2022 issue. For more stories like it, Subscribe Today. Thank you!
Rushie Wooldridge has been a crossing guard in Bedford for 50 years now and it is a job that has defined her every day.
There was that time when Rushie Wooldridge was hit by a car at her crosswalk. She popped back up, checked her hip to make sure it wasn’t damaged, then went back to directing the school buses out on to the highway and letting the school kids cross the street. That’s what she does, who she is.
At nearly 85, it’s what she has been for the past 50 years in Bedford: A predictable, dependable protector of children, a symbol that all’s right with the world.
Rushie (“My daddy dated a girl named Rushie and named me for her. She was a nice lady.”) grew up in Ironto, moved to Salem, working as a seamstress; then she and her new husband, Homer, moved to Bedford, where he became principal, teacher and coach of several sports at Big Island High School. There, they raised two children of their own and an adopted girl.
The house was never empty. Along with their mixed brood, they had what she says was more than 40 foster children. Others estimate it at closer to 75.
Once in Bedford, Rushie went to work for the city (it has since become a town), driving a school bus. “I lasted one morning,” she laughs. “It was too noisy.” And so, she asked about a crossing guard job and was instantly hired. She was put on North Bridge Street at the Bedford Elementary School, where she remained for the next 45 or so years before being moved to the new Bedford Middle School.
Rushie (she pronounces it “Rooshie”) insisted on being photographed for this story at the elementary crossing. It is home to her. She trooped out to the middle of the street and took over, stopping cars, directing them, nodding to the drivers she knew. Her shift is 7-9 a.m. and 2-4 p.m. every school day, giving her the opportunity to do what she wants to do in the middle of the day, a feature she likes.
The attraction? “I get up every morning and go to work. I have to plan my days. My health is good because of it. I just keep going. I love it.”
She says her own group of children – natural, adopted, foster – “rode the school bus to where I was, then went and sat in a car with Polly Smith [of the Bedford Police Department] before crossing to go to school.” While they were in the car, they learned to crochet. “I taught it some, but one of my girls was left-handed and Polly was left-handed, so she taught her.”
Homer Wooldridge, who died about 10 years ago, “was the wonderfulest man ever put on the face of the earth,” insists Rushie. He coached baseball, basketball and football and “never cussed, never yelled at the kids. If something went wrong, he’d take them off to the side and talk about it. The kids loved him.” And so did she.
Homer “loved me being a crossing guard,” she says. “He said, ‘If that’s what you love, you gotta do it, girl.’”
Retirement is a state she has not given much thought. She doesn’t even know if Bedford has a mandatory retirement age, but “as long as there’s a job to do, I’ll do it. … You have to do what you have to do to survive.”
The story above is a preview from our January/February 2022. For more stories, subscribe today or view our FREE digital edition. Thank you for supporting local journalism!
