On those early spring walks, often setting out a little after 5:00 a.m., I get to see and greet a whole new set of people who work nights — security guards, construction crews, groundskeepers. It’s good for the spirit to get out on a daily route, and to weave a new social fabric where new faces become familiar as little mooring touch points all along the way.

One municipal worker was a calm serene Vietnam veteran, at his post and his work rain or shine. I began stopping to share appreciative words about weather and nature. Those greetings became a positive fixture of the morning. He had such a craftsmanlike work ethic and philosophical outlook that a question came to mind: what small treat might he enjoy during a work break? Various home-baked goods came to mind. But one never knows what allergies or restrictions people might have with their diet. Finally I decided to get a bottle of sparkling water and some individual wrapped packets of Trader Joe trail mix, and anticipated with pleasure that small shopping errand.

But the errand had to wait. I missed three days of daily walks to keep my box-cut foot elevated as much as possible. I returned to the walking route this week, and missed seeing our trusty municipal colleague. Next day it was puzzling to see that the street sign nearby was now covered with small American flags, and a large bouquet of pink peonies. Next day on a tall piece of foam backing there was a large photograph of our worker looking proud in his uniform, next to a vintage photograph of the same gentleman back in his twenties, joyful and triumphant in a sports event. The poster was beautifully drawn and colored neatly with his name in large letters, with drawings of hearts and flowers. Next day, someone hung a magic marker on the poster from a rope. Soon the poster accumulated signatures radiating appreciation and love from dozens of people.

While I stood pondering all this, a city bus pulled over. “Where is he?” said the driver.

“I guess he retired?” I guessed, reading through the messages.

“Uh-oh,” said the driver. “What’s that little ‘R.I.P’ down at the bottom?” Oh gosh! Sure enough. “I hope it means ‘Retire in Prosperity,'” he said, wishing me a good day and waving goodbye.

Today my walk was much later. It was after 7:00 when I finished the loop and headed home. Now there was a cluster of elementary school pupils around the poster. One little one was anxiously dictating a message while his Mom wrote every word. The parents were out in full force, escorting their children to the poster. They stood together with other parents in respectful silence while the children exclaimed over the pictures and practiced reading all of the greetings. Then as each little group of children had time to explore messages and shared their impressions and feelings, the parents would shepherd them on to school to make room for the next group. One mom looked up at me. “He died,” she said, taking her child’s hand and setting out for school.

It was a tempting idea, to place a picture of that wonderful poster here. But this blog is anonymous. Besides, you already know who he is. You see him or her every day in your town. He is many people everywhere, taking care of routine business that keeps our lives clean or safe or lighted or fed. Like them, this quiet man probably thought of his job as just all in a day’s work.

If only he could be with us for one more day, to see these children, and to read and hear their words.