Our town Mayor died. Wait, just wait a second, I promise this is a positive post. I've noticed that most of my blogs are pretty negative. But I'm a pretty negative person. So today, I'm going spread some positivity, and it all starts with a dead Mayor.
I'm from a small town. It's a square mile and has one traffic light. The residents often refer to our town as being in a "bubble". We don't lock our front doors and we blast Ray Charles' rendition of America The Beautiful on the Fourth of July. We're a tight knit community. At the center of our bubble, was our Mayor. But he wasn't just a Mayor, he was a friend.
The Mayor made it his business to personally know the people from his little corner of the Earth. He called my siblings and I by our birthdates. When he saw my parents together, he referred to them by their anniversary date. He was at their wedding and they were at his. The Mayor married my sister. He married some of my friends. He was the town's All Star baseball coach for 25 years. Everybody made the team, and we often were slaughtered.
The Mayor served the town for 38 years. He wasn't Mayor the whole time obviously, but he had been since 2007. In 2012, Hurricane Sandy struck. 85% of homes in our town were damaged or destroyed. Our community became the poster child for desolation. We answered to news stations while we rummaged through what was left of our lives in the middle of our streets. All eyes were on us, and all of our eyes were on him. While we picked up what was left, the Mayor would go from home to home to check on every single family he could. He was there to help, with a hug, a witty toast, or a smile.
During an interview our Mayor was asked how our town was going to possibly fight back from all this devastation. His answer was simple, we're going to keep smiling. Keep Smiling was our Mayor's shalom. He signed it at the bottom of his letters, he had t-shirts of it, he used it as a hello and a goodbye. His words weren't empty either, it was his creed and he lived by it. The Mayor was always.fucking.smiling. Always.
Our town Mayor died. Four days ago, cardiac arrest. The fabric that had woven our town was loosening. We couldn't properly mourn. We couldn't have a wake or a funeral. We couldn't say our goodbyes. So we started saying stories instead. Stories after stories about our beloved Mayor. Happy ones, sad ones, funny ones, and pointless ones.
The surviving family knew that the town wouldn't be able bring themselves to see the Mayor, so the Mayor was brought to visit the town one last time. The Mayor was strapped to the top of a firetruck, draped with an American flag, and led by a twenty-five police car escort. All surrounding towns sent an envoy to join the Mayor on his final ride through our community. Cops, firemen, EMS, councilman, neighbors, family, you name it. The whole town lined the sidewalks, properly distanced with masks, waving American flags, blowing bubbles, and wearing Yankees and Jets shirts (his favorite teams). As the Mayor was carried through our streets people cried, some clapped, others even cheered. It was unconventional. But I don't think he would of had it any other way.
No matter how much I shit on humanity, it's moments like these that continually restore my faith. Celebrate life, especially when it's difficult. We're going to be alright, Keep Smiling.
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