By Sue Murphy
Harold and I were driving through a small Illinois town last fall when I saw a sign in front of the VFW post that said, “WE WILL MISS YOU NORMAN NELSON.”
I never knew Norman Nelson, and now, apparently, I never will. The sign didn’t say why Norman would no longer be at the VFW. My hope is that he was moving to Florida. It would have been a good idea. Winters are brutal out there on the Illinois farmland. After 50 years of digging out a path to the barn at 4 a.m. and breaking up the ice in the water trough, a body would deserve a little sunshine. It could be that Norman was moving to Dubuque, where his daughter lives, which would still be cold, but he’d be able to spend time with his grandchildren before they headed off to college. Of course, there’s always the possibility that Norman had passed on and was enjoying sunshine of another kind. Whatever the case, Norman would not be at the VFW any longer and the membership was sad.
That’s the way life is. One day Norman is with you and the next, he is gone.
I do hope that the fine folks at the VFW thought to tell Norman that
they cared about him while he was still with them, let him know how much they appreciated all he did. Norman (I don’t think they called him Norm.) might have been the one who did the washing up after the Friday fish fries. Maybe he manned the all-night smokers for the group’s annual pork shoulder fundraiser. He could have told funny stories around the bar, done an impression of Mike Ditka that made everybody laugh.
Perhaps he got the group a good deal on the gravel to pave the driveway. He came in on Saturday to patch the hole in the screen door. He changed the light bulbs on the outdoor sign.
Maybe he was the guy who welcomed the new veterans and listened, really listened, while they told how they hadn’t slept much since they got home. Maybe he played the piano.
Norman could have been chairman of the Flag Day committee, the guy who put posters in the coffee shop windows for the Veterans’ Day parade. His wife might have been active in the auxiliary, or maybe his wife had already gone … to Florida. Let’s say she was already in Florida getting things ready in their new condo on the beach.
I don’t know anything about Norman Nelson, but the sign set me to thinking about the Normans in my life. Day after day, there are people who take the reins and make my life easier, people who quietly fill the gaps, people who tell me funny stories and make me laugh, and I don’t want them to head off to Florida not knowing how much I care.
There are probably Norman Nelsons in your life, too, and this Valentine’s Day, it would behoove us all to let them know that we appreciate them. I don’t know, send them a card, give them a phone call, or better yet, grab a dishtowel and stand shoulder to shoulder at the sink. The Norman Nelsons in this world may not tell you, but they could use a hand themselves sometimes.
So thank you, thank you, Norman Nelson. You don’t know me, but you made a difference in my life and I was just passing by. The people at the VFW were lucky, indeed.
We will miss you, Norman Nelson.
