About a month ago, I began to notice that things just weren't the same with regards to my newspaper delivery. For years, each morning as I made my walk down my long driveway most of the time before the sun had even risen, I would be confident that my newspaper would be in its rightful place. I never met this reliable delivery person but came to know via exchange Christmas cards that his name was Ken Gifford. I live on a gravel road and many times, when the weather was frightful, my road would be almost impassable. But no matter how many notes I left for Mr. Gifford asking him not to risk his safety to deliver our papers, 99 times out of 1o0 my paper would be there waiting for me. Sometimes I could tell he had gotten out of his car when the mailbox was just out of reach behind a snow drift. Other times, judgement got the best of him and the paper would be in a blue plastic bag placed carefully in the middle of the driveway. As I said, I never met this gentleman and had never even caught a glimpse of a car driving away. I can only assume that he had left his warm house well into the night, when we were snug in our beds ,to do his job. I always suspected that he was an older gentleman judging not only from the script on his cards but by the simple fact that he took pride in a job well done.....a philosophy not unlike my own Dad's. I will miss the connection we had and hope his family finds comfort in knowing that others were grateful to "know" such a fine man.
