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Topic: Unsung Hero (12/07/06)
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TITLE: On the Path of Righteousness | Previous Challenge Entry
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12/11/06 -
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On any given weekday, Andy, a thirty-something, can be seen rising before dawn. Hastily he completes his morning ablutions. He dons his carefully creased uniform, and he grabs snacks to supplement the day’s meals of fast food. Then he begins the hour-long trek south to work.
Day after day—in rain or shine, in snow, sleet, or hail—he delivers. Parcel by parcel he shows “what brown can do for you.” He traverses communities, known and unknown, repeatedly jumping from his truck to tote letters, books, computer systems, whatever the public orders. Always he flashes a sparkling smile, a gift of Mother Nature and a reflection of a sunny disposition.
The wiry young man’s physique belies his strength. No formal physical fitness program or trips to the gym could match the benefits of his daily regimen. Flexibility, strength, and a cardiovascular workout he acquires the old-fashioned way.
Back home around eight or eight-thirty, Andy has time to kiss and tuck in his two precious girls, and it’s off to the tub to soak away the aches and pains. Supper, usually, will be reheated leftovers if an earlier pizza didn’t suffice.
Two generations earlier this young man’s grandfather-in-law began the day in similar fashion. The uniform for him, though, was a black suit and a crisp white shirt punctuated by a dark tie. Each day after a hasty breakfast and a greeting of “Good morning, Sunshine” for his two girls, he filled his lunch pail, kissed his wife goodbye, and set off toward his business. His route south: the newly completed Route 1 leading to the remarkable Mystic Bridge.
On some days—armed with a contagious smile—he visited customers, taking their orders. On most days he immediately switched uniforms. Sturdy work clothes were needed to sort and bale the wiping cloths and haul them onto delivery trucks.
“Daddy, can I feel your muscles?” A laborer’s physique, hidden beneath the formal attire, intrigued his girls. “Look, Daddy. See mine.” Only tiny bumps of biceps poked their dress sleeves, but they were a common bond with the man who knew everything and could do anything.
Promptly at six o’clock he appeared back home, freshly groomed, ready to sit down with his family for the evening meal. “I’d better get dinner started,” the mother often said, “or I’ll get fired.” As if even a negative remark would have fallen from his lips. After dinner, the newspaper and—once the 10-inch television had become a kitchen fixture—Sid Caesar, Milton Berle, or Jackie Gleason filled the evening hours. For him the weekly bath was still days away.
After the blaze destroyed his business, this father continued his morning ritual; and through the generosity of respectful competitors, he completed orders in a corner of their establishments. Soon the business was gone. Undaunted, he continued to work years past normal retirement age. For the novice night security guard another uniform became de rigueur.
On the sixth day of the week this father observed the Sabbath; Andy, on the other hand, sees another workday ahead of him. He landscapes for most of the year and assists a photographer once the winter sets in. A different day of rest gives him time to savor the fruits of his labor.
Down through the centuries, untold numbers of righteous men have walked in the footsteps of the father of the Holy Family. They have labored to provide for and protect their families. And their journey has been one of dedication and sacrifice. During this joyous season of the year, as we celebrate Christ’s birth, we give thanks to Joseph—his father—and to our own fathers. Thank you, Joseph. Thank you, Dad. We, your children, recognize your righteousness, and we belatedly send our appreciation and our love.
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