One more thing before I close up shop and apologize to Mitch Albom for this headline.
After all the words I’ve devoted to me on this column, this one is about you.
It has to be that way on this final Sunday here.
You were my church leaders, you were an amazing worker at Taco Bell who gave me hope for brain-dead teen employees everywhere, you were an amazing dancing ambassador for a local pizza franchise who made me smile every day.
You seemed to be everywhere during this time here.
You were one of the many co-workers who made me laugh and make this place hard to leave.
You stopped for me as I crossed a busy intersection on a daily basis, even while cars raced around you.
So many of you I’ve met along the way over the past 14 years. These five people embody the best I’ve seen from all of you.
The neighbor: She was our soup angel, the person knocking on our door at just the right time with a container of homemade soup and other leftovers.
I have it on good authority we weren’t her only project. She was constantly serving, putting others in front of herself.
The church leader: The biggest lesson taught by former parks director Dave Clark happened in the car on the way to Portland.
While I drove, he held his cell phone while referring to his planner on his lap.
He delegated, inspired and brainstormed for most of the 60 minutes in car. It was like attending a leadership conference for free.
If it were me, I would have found a movie to watch or a game to play. Embrace the dead time. Send my brain to a timeout.
Not David Clark. Every hour, every minute was not to be wasted, but to be lived to the fullest. It was who he was, his crystal clear vision that people mattered most.
Never was that more clear when the cancer got worse.
I can’t imagine the physical pain he fought on a daily basis, the effort it took just to move or even talk.
Yet he never forgot us. Clark made sure to see us every month, even though he spent a minimum of 30 hours a week giving volunteer service as a bishop.
This might have been his biggest lesson of all. In the end, it’s all about the people.
Thanks, Dave.
The librarian: The cool thing was that Rosie still liked us despite the fact that our overdue fines rivaled the national debt.
She knew each one of us by name, patiently listened to our excuses on why we didn’t bring the book back.
Rosie made us feel important while we were at the library, like we mattered.
The visitor: We may never see him again. But for less than 48 hours, Andrew was part of the family.
Hey, Andrew! Do you wanna see some family pictures? Let’s play a game. Do you want to go to the library with us? Have another piece of pizza.
Were it not for a phone call from Lacey, we would have never met Andrew.
He was passing through Albany until car troubles derailed his journey. An initial conversation led to dinner with the family, followed by an invite to spend the night.
We don’t welcome just any stranger. But this felt right. My internal guidance told me this guy was so harmless, he made Richie Cunningham look like a high school dropout.
For some reason, we connected immediately with Andrew. It was like we had known him forever.
And then he was gone. For a guy with just a cameo apparence in my life, Andrew made a big impact.
The woman in line: The young woman ahead of me clutches some money in her hand and nervously watches the cashier scan each item. She plans to purchase about a dozen small food items and about $25 worth of clothes. She wears a black tank top, dark hair and can’t be older than her early 20s.
It’s not long before the girl realizes she can’t pay for everything and asks for some food to be removed from her bags.
The cashier painfully removes some food items one by one, then at the girl’s behest, gives them back. I watch with interest, with a checkout nightmare blog brewing in my head. The clothes and some food are set aside to be returned to the store.
“I’m so bad at math,” the young woman stammers as the cashier realizes there’s still a difference of $12 to settle. The worker patiently begins searching through some other grocery bags to see if there’s anything else that can be returned to make up the difference.
I turn to a well-dressed lady to my left in line and give her a knowing look. Can’t this girl add? It’s a look that says we’re in this checkout nightmare together.
It was then the well-groomed older woman teaches me a lesson I will never forget. She reaches into her purse and hands some money to the cashier.
“Here, see if this will help,” she says with a smile.
It’s a $20 bill. The young girl’s mouth drops open.
“I’ve been there before,” the other woman says.
“Now that’s really cool,” I spontaneously exclaim out loud with a big smile on my face. The woman adds an additional $10 just to make sure.
By now we find out the younger woman is behind on her rent with her boyfriend. Christmas may not be so merry this year.
The cashier rings up all the original food items and clothes she was planning to purchase from the beginning. The boyfriend returns to the line in time to see everything unfold. He looks embarrassed.
When his girlfriend tries to return $12 in change to her benefactor, the older woman pauses and then gives it back.
“Take your boyfriend out for dinner. Merry Christmas.”
The grateful couple say thank you and eventually walk off together with their bags.
I think of the $800 kicker check burning a hole in my pocket. We have our own struggles but I could have helped. I miss a chance to make a difference.
I turn to the woman putting items on the belt.
“Thank you for teaching me a lesson.” I tell her.
Maybe the biggest one that I’ll remember from these five people I met in the mid-valley.
Former Sunday Editor Mike Henneke has accepted a job in Billings, Mont. You read his blog in its new home here.
