- April 18, 2024
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Walter Reamer is a brave crossing guard, and not just because he stands in the middle of the road on a regular basis. At 66 years old, the soon-to-be grandfather tried a new hobby on the last day of school: skateboarding.
“It was one of those little wiggly things,” he said. “I couldn’t do it like those kids do. I had to hold on to something and wiggle around. The kids got a kick out of it.”
And to Reamer, if the kids get a kick out of it, it’s worth it.
A retired pump station mechanic for the city of Palm Coast, Reamer has been working part-time as a crossing guard for three years, but Thursday, June 7, was his last day. He is now retired yet again.
“I’m going to be sad that I’m leaving,” he said. But, his wife, Daphne, is also retiring, so the two will enjoy some traveling soon.
I met with Reamer on a warm morning, June 6, to ask what it was like to be the man behind the stop sign. He said he tries to relate with the kids.
“In the afternoon, I have these kids who play and roll around in the ditch,” he said. “I say, ‘Gosh, I need to get out and play with them.’” He also watches cartoons in the afternoon.
Most cars that pass him in the mornings and afternoons are cooperative. Many people honk and wave. But every now and then …
“I’ve had a couple incidents where cars don’t really want to stop,” he said. “I feel like throwing my stop paddle at them.”
On the opposite end of the crosswalk on Belle Terre Parkway stood Reamer’s crossing guard partner, Patricia Hopkins. I crossed the street to talk to her, as well.
Hopkins has been a guard with the Flagler County Sheriff’s Office for seven years. She still remembers the words of a former Flagler superintendent, Bill DelBrugge, who said crossing guards play an important part in the social development of children.
“I compliment the girls when they wear pretty dresses,” she said. “I like to know that I said kind words to them to start their day.”
Then a young girl joined us. Reamer held up his stop sign and smiled at her as she crossed. “What do you have in the jug?” he asked her. She was carrying a jar filled with rubber bands — presumably an end-of-year gift for a teacher.
Reamer joined Hopkins and me on the east sidewalk, and they exchanged stories. School had already started, so their shift was over, and it was time for me to go to my office, too. But before I could step onto the crosswalk to return to my car, Reamer leaped out in front of me with his sign. He said, “I’ll get you across.”
Thanks for making life a little bit better for the school kids, Walter. I’m sure you’ll be a great grandfather, whether or not you ever become an expert on a wiggly skateboard.
