Some friends of mine recently hosted a party, a real fancy-schmantzy event. They hired a caterer to bring in upper-crust food, a professional decorator to pretty-up the party space, a live band for entertainment. And though it seemed that all stops were being pulled out to make the event something special, my friends knew that their crowd would be VERY Northwest--hikers, sailboat racers, aging hippies. The party invitations my friends sent out made a funny but quite realistic two-word suggestion about proper guest attire: “Seattle Formal,” the invitation said. Meaning: wear new flip-flops, clean jeans, and maybe a plain, black t-shirt, not the one with “Bush Sucks” printed on the front.
We’re pretty informal folks up in this corner of the country--I think the photo above speaks to this point. I had errands to do yesterday in Seattle so I rode Leah’s little 125cc scooter to the ferry dock and got on a boat to the city. During the ferry trip I shot a couple of pictures of myself, looking kind of Darth Vader-ish in my helmet. Going through the photos later, I realized that my eyewear is the most stylin’ thing about me, while the rest of me is quite ordinary. For my cool glasses, I can thank a young man named Dan.
Dan worked at Market Optical in Seattle. He was friendly, funny, and easy to like. A couple of years ago when I needed new glasses, it was Dan who convinced me that even a hiker, rural-living, Amish-leaning simple guy like me could feel at ease in a pair of stylin' eyeglasses, and Dan was right. In the two years I’ve had my cool eyewear, I've been amazed and surprised at how many people have complimented me on my glasses, making me feel like, yes, I’m okay with some style on my face.
Whenever my glasses needed tweaking or the fit got loose, I’d go to Dan and he’d fix ‘em right up. When Leah needed new glasses, I suggested she go to Dan, and she too thought he was a great guy.
About a week ago I called the optical shop to make an appointment for my yearly eye exam. It was a woman who answered the phone, but I didn’t recognize her voice. After making my appointment, I asked her to tell Dan that Kurt said Hi. There was an uncomfortable silence. Then the woman told me that Dan had passed away, killed on his birthday when he was hit by a car. The driver was drunk and going 70 when she hit Dan. He was crossing a street, in a crosswalk. He died instantly.
I realize now that I don’t know Dan’s last name, but I know I liked him, I will miss him, and Leah will miss him too. I realize also that there are people we encounter in our everyday lives who are bigger than just “Guy Who Fixes My Car” or “Guy Who Sold Me Glasses.”
Namaste, Dan. We celebrate the goodness in you.
