Farewell, Joe

More and more often as time passes, I'll pick up the paper and read that someone I know has died. I usually try to recall the last time I saw that person and, depending on how I knew him/her, I'm prone to varying degrees of sadness. Sometimes, however, the death will prompt deep feelings of regret or a true sense of loss.

Joe Wagner died yesterday. Unless you come from Thomaston, Ct or a town very close to it, you probably have know idea who Joe Wagner was. He was an icon in Thomaston and a real gentleman. As an individual, his passing will not generate a lot of repercussions. But as a symbol of a generation quickly being lost, his story is worth hearing.

Joe was born and raised in Germany. He lost his parents at an early age and through circumstances not known to me, graduated from one of the finer culinary schools there. He served his native country in World War II; the images of that war stayed with him forever and, until the day he died, he prayed every day that no one would ever have to go to battle again.

When the war ended, he moved to the United States in search of opportunity. He started a small bakery in his new home town of Thomaston, married an American girl, and raised 4 children.

Joe treasured the opportunities that he found here. It seemed that he knew everyone in Thomaston and everyone knew him. When my children were young, our Sunday ritual was to go to church, then across the street to Joe's place for something to eat. Even after he sold the restaurant, he continued to work for the new owners and was a true goodwill ambassador. He never, ever seemed to have a bad day and seemed intent on raising the spirits of everyone around him, every day. On voting day, you'd get a free donut if you told him you voted. School children were taken on field trips to his bakery and each got a free cupcake to decorate. Even after full retirement when I'd see him, I always left our encounters in awe of his constant happiness, optimism, and zest for life, even with the aches and pains that advancing age brings.

Joe Wagner never got a government handout or assistance. I never heard him complain about the economy, or the younger generation, or any of the usual litany of things gone wrong. He greeted everyone and everything with the same enthusiasm. He was comfortable in his own skin. I doubt that he ever took a yoga class, got a stress massage, drank bottled water, or practiced transcendental meditation. And yet, he had the deep sense of peace that only a truly spiritual man can possess and it came through loud and clear. I have no idea what his political leanings were, but he was truly grateful to live in a country where opportunities are unlimited for people who refuse to limit themselves.

I haven't seen Joe very much over the past couple of years. By all appearances, I'll get up tomorrow and go through the motions of my usual routines. But when someone like Joe leaves us for the next phase of life, I feel a real sense of loss. In a world increasingly inhabited by sleazy politicians, government leeches, ripoff artists, and slackers, people like Joe are a breath of fresh air. They give us all hope for the future and remind us that when all the negativity seems so overwhelming, we each have the ability to change our own little corner of the world, just a little bit, every single day. We just have to be open to the opportunities when they present themselves. To paraphrase Mother Theresa, "We cannot all do great things, but we can all do small things with great love."

Thank you, Joe for all you did with such great love. See you on the other side.

Here I Am

I've been told by some people over the years that I'm a decent writer. Often they were trying to get money out of me, or under the effects of some sort of substance, or family members trying to shut me up; occasionally it was a combination of all three.

I've also been told that I'm opinionated, and I wholeheartedly agree with that. Time has tempered my tendency to push these opinions on others, but it hasn't dampened my fervor.

I often witness, in person or through the media, examples of stupidity, awesomeness, arrogance, humility, and the best and worst of humanity. Often I have something to say about it and wish I had an editorial column of my own.

This is the next best thing, for me AND for you. You see, I can vent here and keep my blood pressure at a somewhat reasonable level. You have two advantages: you don't have to pay for a newspaper, and you get to react to my ramblings without ever having to face me. You can laugh, cry, roll your eyes, chortle, or say something like, "I can't believe the clarity and validity of this dude's opinions." (OK, that last one was just a little wishful thinking on my part.)

I don't know how often I'll visit here. It depends how deeply something moves me and how motivated I am to further wear down the tips of the 3 fingers with which I type. Check in every now and then. And by all means, post some comments. Hey, just because I'm always right, it doesn't mean you're not entitled to ridicule me.

Enjoy.