I had the best time on my last day in Savannah. I kept crossing the Savannah River on the free ferry and I swear Friday must have been Field Trip Day throughout the county because first I saw high school kids all in matching T-shirts at 11 in the morning, the beautiful girls walking two by two, arms linked because who can get away with in high school but the beautiful girls? Then the less beautiful ones bumping contentedly along in groups of three and four, then the athletes parading like peacocks together and ah yes a couple of male Drama geeks, one giving the other a piggy-back ride.
Then as I boarded that free ferry the Juliette Gordon Lowe here were 21 teensy little kindergartners and their four teachers all lined up on the varnished wooden benches of the old ferry; 21 kindergartners dressed up nice with bright white socks and colorful sturdy sneakers. It was the big finish to their unit on Transportation one of the teachers said. For sure it was the perfect small craft for people this size and with the trip’s 90-second duration, the perfect length too.
As they waited for the rest of us passengers to board they sat wide-eyed and quiet. On the port side, two small boys snuggled in close to one of the teachers and played with her long straight hair, which seemed endlessly fascinating to them as they lifted it and let it drop, lifted it and let it drop. Over here to starboard meanwhile, two little girls nestled against a second teacher, also playing with her equally long straight fall of hair, only twisting it into experimental plaits and studying the effect with wide serious looks. “I think I think my hair is PRETTY WELL SET FOR NOW LADIES!” the teacher finally said and the girls sat up nice and straight and just in time too because just then the engines roared into life.
The captain appeared to say a word to the kids about the craft and was just warming to his subject when a bright-eyed boy raised his hand.
“I’m Isaiah Bayrd. I from away,” he said.
“Is that right!” said the captain.
“Uh huh,” Isaiah said earnestly. “I from Virginia!”
“And you live here now?”
But this was a much tougher question. Isaiah knit his brows and gave it a good thinking-over, then seemed to decide he'd just ... start all over again.
He raised his hand.
“I’m Isaiah Bayrd and I be from away.”
“Wonderful!” shouted the captain.
“'B-A-Y-R-D,” Isaiah said again, as if he'd just awakened inside Isaiah’s body; as if he'd just recently gotten done being somebody’s grandfather or Spiro Agnew or your own best great-auntie or even the family dog to which I say Who knows, maybe he did, maybe he did, maybe he did. And all day long that ferry named after the founder of the kick-ass Girl Scouts of America crossed and crossed and recrossed that shiny river.
