Dylan Stafford

“That’s a great kindergarten, but it’s across town. We could never handle the commute,” I said, resigned.

“I’ll do it,” Victoria said.

“Do what?”

“I’ll drive Jackson to kindergarten. I’m retired. I could do it.”

The worst part of my life is my commute, and Victoria, our neighbor, had just volunteered to drive our son across Los Angeles, twice a day, to take him to and from kindergarten.

Marisa and I were sitting with Victoria on a Saturday evening after she babysat Jackson, talking about kindergarten at our church, St. Monica’s in Santa Monica. For me to get Jackson to St. Monica’s, and then get to work, would be over an hour commute every morning and every afternoon, five-days-a-week. Too much!

“I’ll do it,” Victoria had said.

This was back in 2012 and I was gob smacked. Really? She would even consider this?

Well you have to know more about Victoria. Tough as nails. Born in England after World War II. A mother to a grown daughter. Owner of two French bulldogs. Opinionated, rarely wrong, and never in doubt, be it politics, plants, or puppies, Victoria is a formidable women. If she says, “I’ll do it,” you can count on that.

In 2017, we watched Victoria as she patiently nursed her husband Bill at the end of his life. Victoria’s strength and grace were quietly on display every time we saw her with Bill on their slow walks around the park.

Ultimately, we did not choose the far-away kindergarten in Santa Monica. We chose the closer city school. But Victoria still stepped up and voluntarily drove Jackson. Then, she added our neighbor’s daughter Kensie, and later our son Christian, then finally Kensie’s younger brothers Oliver and Benny.

It is now 2025, thirteen years and five children later. Victoria expanded her Saturday-night promise from one child to five, helping our two families get our kids to and from elementary school.

Neither of our families could survive without “Ms. V.”

Today, this morning, we are here with you for brunch on your birthday. We want to say Happy Birthday and we want to also say thank you. Thank you for all the carpools, but much more than that, thank you for all the love.

We call your 2003 Honda Accord “the silver school bus” and inside those four doors, our five children are blessed with your wisdom, your care, your humor, your perspective, your sass. You brought to life our children’s imaginations, you gave history lessons, and when they came home from school, often times they would be more excited to talk about what they learned from you, than their lessons at school. You are an example of a full, strong, generous adult. We are blessed by the blessing that you have been to both of our families.

Thank you.

You didn’t have to drive for one year. Instead, you drove for thirteen. Jackson, Kensie, Christian, and still Benny and Oliver. Lots of overlapping combinations of kids. Lots of lessons from “Ms. V.”

A wonderful, additional driving adult?

Yes, that is one description for you.

A bonus grandmother?

That fits too, perfectly. And what is better than a bonus grandmother? Any child should be so lucky.

How about an unexpected angel?

That’s the best I can do.

You drove, taught, inspired and shared grandmotherly love with all our five children. Your presence, love, and perspective is a gift to both our families and all our children.

You are an unexpected angel, and a gift to all of us.

It takes a village to raise a child. You are an unexpected angel Victoria. Both our villages are better because of you. Thank you and happy birthday. We love you.