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VMM missionaries are followers of Jesus, engaged fully in sharing the
Good News of the Gospel - Spirit and Lifestyle
Friday morning, there was no Edmonton Journal at my door. Friday's is
a heavy issue with lots of inserts and with the week's TV Guide.
Usually it is delivered around 4 am. Just before 8:30, I heard papers
thrown at the door of three of the units on my floor and then my
door. The carrier was just opening the door to the staircase ... "Had
I heard about the traffic accident just after 3 am?" Yes, I had;
the road was still closed to traffic. Our Journal carrier, Art, was
killed. Only the next day did I read that Art was broadsided by a
vehicle that failed to make the curve of the traffic circle. Art died
at the scene. Police arrested the driver of the other vehicle -
charges pending against the driver in his 40s, and alcohol and speed
being investigated as factors in the crash.
I never officially met Art. Only once over the six or seven years
we've had him as our delivery person, I found him sorting the papers
in front of the elevators on the main floor one morning I had to
leave very early for the airport and asked him for my paper. He wrote
in a big script the apartment number on each paper. When I came back
from holidays, the first paper always carried the message: Welcome
Back! Art. Before Christmas, he left a card and I was always
reassured he had found his money because he wrote in the same large
print his thank you on that morning's paper. I had noted his courtesy
in slipping the newspaper quietly under the door and not slamming the
door to the stairs. The only sound was the slight rustle of paper on
the floor.
It seems that such courtesy was part of Art's life. Saturday's
Edmonton Journal, mentioned that Art took only one day off after
being assaulted on the job about a year ago, that the 64-year-old was
a mild-mannered man who took his work seriously and loved his dog. He
was a very kind-hearted gentleman, said his employer. Art also worked
at Save-On-Foods, had received his 20-year service award and was
respected by colleagues and customers , some of whom would only go
through Art's till. And, he enjoyed his backyard and garden.
Sunday morning, as I waited for the train I noted the station's
caretaker carefully checking the cleaning he'd done. His standards
seemed as high as my mother's! And I thought of Art; of Ilona,the
caretaker in my building; of all the caretakers in the schools where
I taught.
Our life is too short not to do our share; not to appreciate and
acknowledge all those who make our lives possible; not to be kind-
hearted, mild-mannered, courteous; not to take time to smell the
roses, if not grow them. Thank you, Art.
Cecily
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