My small town's mayor died last Friday.
He was 68 and just beginning his second year in his first term as mayor.
I knew Mr. Mayor through his wife, who is a fellow board member on the non-profit org we belong to.
Last weeks local newspaper headline touted his wife's accomplishments as being the Chamber of Commerce's Citizen of the Year. This weeks headline announces his death.
I'll not ramble on about the goodness of this man, or the positive impact he had on so many lives. But since "a man’s death makes everything certain about him," I'm instead going to focus my farewell to our fair Mayor on a more personal level.
Mr. Mayor and his wife were avid collectors of all things -- big and small -- that happened to pop up on eBay which dealt with our small town. Ashtrays from banks, postcards of buildings on Main Street, bottles from the old bottling plant, scarves, diner menus, bags, button, pens, paperweights. You name it, and if it mentioned our small town and was on eBay, he and/or his wife would probably be bidding on it.
And we'd be doing our best to out maneuver his considerable auction handling prowess.
There are several other resident collectors of my town's historical merchandise that have a regualr eBay presence. We're more-or-less aware of each other and have even enjoyed some good natured ribbing and lively ebay-geek discussions while standing in line at the market.
Like a war scarred warrior who is saddened to learn that his most worthy antagonist has fallen and the dream of facing his foe with respect and honor on the field of battle has faded to oblivion, we too shall miss our swashbuckling adversary of online auctions.
While I'm certain that his wife will continue her quest for the ultimate online auction item pertaining to our town's history, it's saddens me to think that she won't have her beloved partner in collecting crime to share her high bid booty with.
Floodstuff will be missed.