I didn’t know Bev well.
In fact, I hardly knew her at all.
She was definitely a presence in my life. We were those two acquaintances meeting in
the store, at a church Fish Fry, at the voting polls, or anywhere I went in our
town. We always had a smile for each
other and exchanged a friendly hello whenever we happened to meet, but we had
never been formally introduced.
I consider myself
to be a sensitive, compassionate person.
If I ever hurt someone, it was quite by accident. Yet, twenty years ago, when Bev was a total
stranger and I was a stay-at-home Dad, I hurt her feelings badly. Bev was involved in many organizations in the
Community, and it was a chilly November Tuesday, Election Day, in 1994. My
three older children were safely at school, so I bundled up the baby, put him
in his car seat, and headed to Borough Hall to vote. I arrived at the parking lot and proceeded to
lift him out of the car seat and walk to the door. A woman with a kind face and an equally kind
voice came over to say ‘Hello.” I smiled
and returned the greeting. She admired
the adorable blonde haired, blue eyed cherub I was carrying and asked to hold
him. She beamed with joy as she cuddled
him. I answered all her questions about
him and she was so sweet to him and to me.
Then she asked me if I wanted her to hold him while I went in to vote.
The first thing that came to my mind was a
story told to me by neighbors warning of suspicious vehicles attempting to lure
children at bus stops in the area. I
knew in my heart that this lady was somebody’s Mom and was just offering a gesture
of sweetness and convenience. Yet I
answered without hesitation, “No thanks, I can manage.”
She said in her soft voice, “I don’t mind.”
“Ma’am, I’ve
never seen you before. I can’t leave my
baby out here with you. I’m sorry”
The look of hurt
and disappointment on Bev’s face was heartbreaking. “I’m a grandmother and my grandchildren live
far away! You can trust me.” Her
eyes were beginning to tear.
“I’m sorry.” I went inside with my son and voted. When I returned to the parking lot, I smiled and
apologized to Bev again, assuring her that it was the world, and not her, that
I didn’t trust. I really hurt her that
day.
Hindsight is
always 20-20. I wish I’d thought of asking
her to come inside with me and hold the baby while I voted, but this young
stubborn Dad wasn’t fast thinking enough to spare that grandmother’s feelings.
I always thought
of apologizing for the incident to Bev, and tell her of my disappointment in
myself for the insult. I don’t know if
she had ever thought of it again, but I know that every time I saw her after
that day, I thought of it. I had seen
Bev at my church’s Lenten Fish Fries.
She was always smiling and treated me as if I was someone she’d known
well, though she never knew my name. When I went to the local fair, she was there
working, and smiled and greeted me. We
always exchanged pleasantries, and never held a real conversation.
Then on New Year’s Eve
in 2012, I went with a friend to a local breakfast eatery. I had been in the store portion of the
business, but had never been there to eat.
The place was filled with our town’s natives. They were exchanging anecdotes of a place and
people they loved. Among the diners was
Bev. She sat close by and joked, laughed,
and reminisced with the gang. She also
took the time to talk to me, a non-native, and we had our first real
conversation. She asked questions and I
answered. I asked questions and she
answered. I don’t know if Bev remembered
the incident of so many years ago, or our many chance meetings, but when it was
time for her to leave with her husband we hugged sincerely and wished each
other a happy new year. That was the
last time I saw her.
This week I have read of Bev’s passing. Her local friends and family have posted
tributes, and it is obvious that this is a woman who has had an irreplaceable
impact on this town and all the folks who knew her, including me. If I talked to her today I most likely would leave our meeting of 20 years before in the past and would say,
Hello, Bev, my name is Joe...Thanks for the smiles and farewell...I’ll truly miss
seeing you around…….
