Mel Sorenson & Mickey Marshall

Not too far from the Fox River, two figures stand stalwart, steady at the bustling crossings our students use, their greetings and smiles as vibrant as the vests they wear. Melvin “Mel” Sorenson, 80, and his brother-in-law, Michael “Mickey” Marshall, 77, are retirees but have no desire to slow down. The current chapter in their lives reads of an eagleeyed dedication to a crucial responsibility as crossing guards at Main and Madison Streets, respectively. Plus, they’re funloving guys who couldn’t be enjoying their jobs any more than they are.

Mel, a lifelong Ottawa resident, has proudly protected the crossing on Main for a couple of years, while Mickey joined him before Labor Day this year. They say networking is everything, and when the principal asked Mel if he knew of a capable worker to take over another post, he immediately recommended his brother-in-law. The proposal was simple: a part-time role as a crossing guard on Madison Street, a stone’s throw from Mel’s oneman garrison. Intrigued by the prospect of staying active and engaging with the community, Mickey agreed. “I was just trying to help a guy out,” Mel shares, recalling how he suggested the job to Mickey. “It’ll get you away from the house,” he told his friend.

Mickey, a retired Caterpillar employee and Sears worker, admits he was initially surprised by the younger children’s politeness. “They’re at the crossing saying, ‘Thank you, have a nice day.’ I’m having a ball,” he says, beaming. Mel, who used to drive a Brownberry bread truck until he moved careers from grains to grins, reflects similarly. “I’ve got little kids who want a big hug. It feels great,” he says. Mel likens his interactions with the students to spending time with grandchildren. It’s a brief, sweet, meaningful exchange that might even involve a hug, with one important caveat: “They’re going back home to mom,” he laughs. The stories of these two brothers-in-law are emblematic of a generation that understandably braced for the worst but unexpectedly found the best in today’s youth. “These little ones have surprised me,” Mickey notes, his voice full of pleasant shock and delight.

The pair’s sense of commitment extends beyond their crossing guard duties. Mickey, a feverish bowler for over 66 years, recently had to quit due to a shoulder injury. “I miss the guys, but I don’t miss bowling anymore,” he admits. (Mickey might not miss it, but just for reference, we wouldn’t want to take him on ourselves at the lanes: His best game was 280, and his highest series was 726. That’s about 9 strikes out of 10!) Now, his Saturdays are spent visiting Mel, keeping those family ties strong, and he takes every opportunity to stay true to the memory of his late wife, Mary, who passed from cancer in 2012.

Unlike most retirees, Mel isn’t much of an outdoorsman by his own admission. Unfortunately, due to rising costs, he had to give up hunting and fishing. But he finds joy in the recreational atmosphere of the Main Street crossing, mainly when he receives Christmas gifts and thank you cards from the children. “They thank me for keeping them safe, but that’s what I’m here for,” Mel says, his characteristic dry wit always on point.

The Fox River meanders with a silent yet enduring grace. Mel’s switch from bread to bus stops and Mickey’s transition from a career man to a guardian of the streets illustrate a high degree of adaptability and zest for life that inspires. In the interplay of their daily greetings, a jubilant traffic of hugs and waves, Mel and Mickey live a daily narrative that defies the conventional arc of retirement. In the routine crossings of life, they’ve discovered a new theater for fulfilling their purpose. Once a bread courier, Mel now delivers moments of warmth and laughter. Mickey, in his newfound role, echoes this persistence to accept change, his surprise in the children’s politeness a rebuttal to a cynicism that often clouds our expectations of youth. There are always new roles to take on, new joys to discover, and since we’re in the storytelling business, we can’t resist the reminder - there are always new stories to be written, especially your own.