And now a word about Harry

I stood in line at the funeral home waiting to speak to the family who had lost their loved one a few days earlier.
Harry was the janitor at the newspaper I ran. I think he worked there 15 years or so. Until his knees got too bad for him to make it to the second floor of the old house that serves as the newspaper office.
That’s not true. Harry actually climbed those stairs many years after his knees got too bad to be climbing. He came up with ingenious ways of moving things up and down the stairs, and it sometimes took him several breaks to make the trip.
I probably should have advised Harry to give it up sooner. He had retired from his full-time job and was just doing this on the side. But the truth was I liked having Harry around.
As manager of the office as well as the newspaper, I was responsible for a wide variety of tasks. I was most comfortable handling the ones that involved interviews, editing, layout and design. I was much less comfortable being the principal decision maker when things blew up (furnace), died (printers, computers, stamp machines) or when natural disasters struck (flood, blizzards and lightning).
My boss (and his boss) were always there to help me, most certainly. But they were rarely at ground zero. Harry was usually just a phone call away.
His area of expertise was the realm of fix-it. Not technological band-aids, but carpentry, fuses and the like.
I loved decorating the office for the holidays and we usually did it with gusto. Harry was the clean-up crew. We would come back from vacation and all the ornaments, garlands and lights would be neatly put away and life returned to normal.
Harry made shelves, he patched holes, he made sure we had plenty of toilet paper and towels. He usually showed up right before it was time to leave, so he could shoot the breeze a little while – usually with Cathy, Connie or me. He told jokes and stories. He made us laugh. He brought his grandkids with him sometimes. He always talked about his family.
Harry left the newspaper first. I’ve been gone just four years and, in one of those weird coincidences of small towns, I now work with Harry’s daughter – same company, different departments.
Harry was not the kind of guy that someone would write a story about. He would never expect that. Yet, his story is the kind that is told a thousand times every day by people who do the right thing at the right time for the right reasons. People who keep doing the right thing over and over in a non-miraculous way. Reliable, honest, good people.
It’s because of people like Harry that our lives run smoothly and we never have to worry about whose going to take out the trash or set the mouse traps in the attic. He knew what to do and I didn’t have to worry about it after I asked Harry to take care of the problem or project.
I don’t know Harry’s whole story. Only the chapters that intersected with mine. Harry always asked about my parents. He told me about his children and grandchildren. We shared pieces of our lives and he was part of mine for many years.
I remember him once telling me not to be in a rush to get married. “A good man is hard to find,” he told me with a grin.
Not always.
It was not hard to find Harry. He was always there for us.
Just like the good man he was.

Take a hike

Can I just say: Thank goodness the election is over?
Do I hear an amen?
I think it does not matter if you are from a red home or a blue home, you have to be happy not to be assaulted by modern politics.
Can you remember when politicians at least tried to be civil? Commercials at one time were about the candidate who purchased the time. Now the ads are denunciating diatribes about opponents which end with a car salesman quick whisper: I'm Joe Jones and I sponsored this ad. These postscripts sound more like a 12-step confession than boasting.
If I could have voted for someone reasonable besides George Allen and Jim Webb - based solely on their advertisements and the way they hacked at each other in the press - I would have.
How can this train wreck be stopped? Did we create this political climate? Can we undo it?
I like to think of Virginia as a civil commonwealth of mostly genteel Southerners who are not so deep in the "south" as to be considered anything less than politely progressive.
Am I dreaming?
Those two did not behave like gentlemen. And they were not alone.
When I was a child, I remember being instructed that even if my family did not support the man who was President of the United States, we always spoke of him with respect. He's the president, after all. The leader of the free world. Commander in chief. It is possible, I was taught, to disagree with someone without tearing him down. In fact, building yourself up by standing on someone else's forehead is against the basic tenets of most religions.
In today's world, when Election Day is within shouting distance, politicians drop their napkins and start wiping their hands on their opponents' pants.
I miss manners.
I miss well-written dialog that could make you laugh days later when you remembered the exchange. The humor in most TV shows, movies and popular entertainment is based on sarcasm and poking fun at people. I laugh, too, sometimes, but it's cheap laughter that disappears like soda fizz.
I miss going to a grocery store where a bag boy not only bags my groceries and puts them in my cart, but rolls the cart to car and unloads the bags. I don't think I ever experienced this as an adult, but I do remember the boys who took the groceries to our car when I was a kid.
Remember when somebody actually pumped your gas? And would wipe the windshield and check the oil, too? And even the pressure in your tires?
Do I sound like Andy Rooney? Hope not - yet. I think he still has 35 years or so on me. Though I know it is possible to be a young curmudgeon.
But I find myself sounding like some “grown-up” complaining about the young whippersnappers these days.
I long for gracious living.
I wish for letters in my mail box and real popcorn at the movies (not the stuff brought in already popped and sold from a machine that looks like it should be able to pop popcorn.
And each Election Day that passes, I miss voting for politicians who make me proud to be an American.

Someone's knockin' at my door

Tuesday was a busy night on Court Street. We served 85 trick-or-treaters on Halloween night.
Some really cute kids tramped up my sidewalk. Pirates and princesses. Dracula and Dora. Assorted animals and anime.
Some costumes were questionable. One girl had her arm in a sling and a bandage with "blood" affixed to her head. She was walking a perky dachshund who also was sporting a bloody bandage.
"Get it? She was in an accident and her dog was too!" the mother asked me in a shrill tone that indicated she may have been dipping in the candy bag a little too often.
Umm.
Then there was the young woman of about 15 or 16 who seemed to be dressed as a teen-ager carrying a paper bag.
"Trick or treat," she mumbled. I kinda felt like she was robbing me. What was I getting for my carefully packed colored bag filled with special treats?
In the first place, no one says that line right. It is supposed to be "Trick or treat?" The homeowner is supposed to have a choice of either giving them candy or being on the receiving end of some sort of trick.
This girl just wanted the candy. I gave her some.
The rest of the story is that her BOYFRIEND smiled and thanked me as they walked away. He had a BEARD. Not a beard attached with a string, but an official goatee. No costume. Facial hair of the adult male variety.
Who knows? They may have been on a Halloween honeymoon.
Halloween is a weird holiday.
I'm not sure "holiday" is even the right word.
The roots of Halloween actually predate Christianity and are associated with early Celtic rituals celebrating the beginning of winter. Witches and evil spirits were believed to roam the earth on this evening, playing tricks on human beings to mark the season of diminishing sunlight. Bonfires were lit, offerings were made of dainty foods and sweets, and people would disguise themselves as one of the roaming spirits, to avoid demonic persecution.
Halloween was not introduced to the United States until the 19th century and, in my opinion, it is little more than a reason to dress up and/or eat lots of sweet confections.
I saw a story on TV news about a school system that had banned any recognition of Halloween.
Ridiculous.
I know there are some hardline Christians who may be concerned about the "evil" overtones of Halloween. But, I can't imagine how they see this largely confectionery festivity as a threat to anything besides teeth and gums.
Oh, there was the kid who tripped on his cape, fell out of a van packed with children and landed on his head on my front lawn and promptly started bawling until I gave him two bags of candy. Costumes that are too big are a real threat.
I pity today's school kids.
In an effort to sanitize life - make everyone equal and comfortable and non-threatened - everything is reduced. Christmas break is now winter break. Easter break is now spring break. Do cafeterias still serve fish on Friday?
It's probably against the rules to put jolly green Leprechauns on the class bulletin board for St. Patrick's Day. And chubby Cherubs sporting a bow with love-tipped arrows are likely to offend the portly and the unloved, so let's chuck Valentine's Day too. After all, "St. Valentine" implies some kind of religious connection. And we don't want to upset any parent who might freak out over Cupid's lack of clothing.
Mother's Day is likely to upset those without a Mom at home - likewise Father's Day and Grandparent's Day could be injurious as well.
If you come from a different country, you could be offended by Flag Day with all the Stars and Stripes flying - ditto for the Fourth of July, though that falls out of the school-ruled season.
And what about Columbus Day? Was he a good-guy hero who discovered new worlds or a not-so-nice guy who helped grab the Americas from their native inhabitants.
Under every rock-solid reason my generation was given to celebrate - by doing things like drawing four-leaf clovers or turkey hand-tracings - is some kind of wiggling worm trail of political correctness.
We had better watch out.
It is one thing to teach children about diversity and empathy for an ever-shrinking world and it is another to eradicate the cultural traditions of our short heritage.
Pretty soon the American flag will have no red or blue. It will just be white. Surrender.