The Best ________ EVER

Every morning, my eighty-five-year-old dad is up before the sun puttering around the house and yard. Around 8:00, he sets the table: placemats, plates, forks, juice glasses, a napkin to share. Near Mama’s plate, he neatly places her one prescription and two vitamins. Then he makes the breakfast decision and does his prep work: beating eggs for an omelet, spreading butter and dousing cinnamon and sugar on bread, frying sausage or bacon.

He wakes her up to join him, pours her juice and coffee, finishes breakfast prep. I hear them talking and laughing. Sixty-three years of marriage and, in the midst of the sweet routine, still new things to talk and laugh about.

Some of this conversation stems from the daily review of the obituaries in the paper following the morning meal. Mama says she’s checking to see if anyone they know has passed. Daddy asks if he’s in there.

Most obituaries are cut and dry, but almost always there’s at least one that comes with some conjecture or amusement.

“They don’t say why he died, but he was only 56.”

“Wonder if that’s Benny’s father. They said he was failing.”

“Says that Loretta Simms was always sewing and ironing and making meals for other people. Then it says ‘she will be greatly missed’. Well, I guess so!”

Then, during my recent visit, this one got my attention: “Nathaniel “Frog” Brown, 44, resident of Walnut and “the best garbage man EVER”, departed this life surrounded by family on June 1, 2021.”

My family didn’t know Frog, but I have to admit this opening sentence made me want to. It brought to my mind the mantras in our world extolling the ideal of being the “best” you.

• Love what you do and you’ll never work a day in your life.
• Be all that you can be.
• Dance to your own drummer.
• You do you.

I and my Christian friends would say, “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart as working for the Lord, not for human masters.” (I Corinthians 3:23).

All of these admonitions aside, don’t we still perceive that some occupations, like say . . . garbage man . . . don’t quite make the bar of great achievement in our world? Ouch. Well, I don’t know about you, but I have to admit that feeling.

But not Frog. What does being the best garbage man ever mean? Did he wear plastic gloves up to his biceps and a cape with a giant “G” on it flapping in the wind as he dangled from the grab bar on the back of the truck? Probably not.

Maybe it was smiling and waving at folks dragging their cans to the curb.  Or picking up trash from around the can and putting it in the truck even though he didn’t have to. Maybe he did things like pulling out a used tricycle to fix up for his cousin’s toddler. Could it have been simply encouraging his co-workers that they do, indeed, perform a very necessary job?

Like I said, I didn’t know Frog. But the writer of his obituary did and, of all the other details that followed, these were the words they thought best captured his spirit. “. . . best garbage man EVER . . .”

It’s true. Whatever we do in life, we should shoot for the goal of being the best ____________ EVER. When we’re younger, our school work. As adults, in our workplaces. In our personal quests like exercise, cooking, writing. Through our relationships as parents and friends. Sharing our time, talents, and treasures with others even when, especially when, that requires sacrifice.

I look at my parents perusing the obits around the kitchen table, years well-lived with more to come, and I can see that they always strived to do the best they could. They are still blessings to me and my siblings, to their friends and neighbors. And they take care of each other exceptionally well. You might even call them the best couple EVER.