A sad farewell to an old friend none of you will ever hear about

In the old (as in about 1000 years) town where my wife and I hang our hats when
we're in Europe (which is plenty), there is an open air farmers' market three times a
week. The biggest is on Saturdays, when most people come to buy fresh food for the
weekend.

There are usually a few colorful characters among them, some nice, some not so
nice, and some without whom the town just wouldn't be complete. One of them was
an old beekeeper from the former German province of Silesia, now part of Poland.
He had a German first name and a Polish surname. He always came to our town
every other Saturday with about thirty different kinds of honey. Traditional ones like
clover and orange blossom, but also salbei, raps and sunflower honey. He was a little
slow-moving, being well into his seventies by this year, but always cheerful, and
always ready with a joke and good cheer, and always with great advice on what
honey to get for which purpose. He really knew his stuff, but only told you as much
as you wanted to hear.

He was telling stories of the old days, always curious to know about America, a
place he had never been, to my knowledge. He'd give out free samples to kids, and
tell me I had a beautiful wife (OK, he was being serious, there), and although he had
to transport his hundreds of pounds of honey jars everywhere he went, he never
complained and never asked for help. He said he was old and didn't feel like
vegetating away somewhere, and so felt he had something to live for doing this. He
just liked to be around people. I don't speak Polish very well, but he was always
helping me out with phrases and making sure I got the pronunciation right--no small
feat in Polish.

A few months ago, he told us he had to go into the hospital for a serious operation,
and didn't know if we would see him alive again. We wrote to him (his address was
on his honey jars) and wished him well and a good recovery . He was apparently
very touched, as we were the only ones of his clients in our town who took the
trouble to do this. When he got out of the hospital, he called us to thank us, and
when he was well enough to come to the market again, he did, and greeted us as
long time friends, which, by this time, we were.

When we were getting ready to go to America for our summer vacation, we told him
we would see him in the fall. He looked pretty much OK for a guy of 77 who had
just spent months recovering from a life-threatening operation.

We were mistaken. Over the summer, he died of heart failure. We never got to say
good-bye. We heard from other food-sellers at the market this morning, and they all
remembered him as one of their most pleasant colleagues.

Selling honey jars at open air markets is not how you get rich in this world, but he did
it with a passion, and a cheer that would not be denied.

We will miss that old guy very badly. A piece of our lives here in our pleasant little
medieval town has been torn out from under us, and we're just a little sad today to
think of it.

Wszystkiego dobrego, old friend. You made our lives a little sweeter in more ways than one.

I'm sorry for your loss of a dear friend. :hug:

I spend a lot of time in Paris and have bonded with quite a few of those "old salts" at the closest open-air market who trek in from the country every day with their honey, their produce, their cheeses and such. Extraordinary people, they are, and I truly treasure those times when I round the corner, see their stall and catch a glimpse of how their face lights up when "l'american" comes back to town. Makes the whole trip worthwhile and my day just that much brighter.

Take care and, again, all my best.

I run down there a couple of times a month.

You know exactly what I am talking about. Here, I'm "der Texaner"
where you are "l'américain" down there. Same thing, for sure!

and it sounds like he stood upon the summit of the mountain and gazed down upon the the rest of us.

Men like that are important, and when they die it always leaves the world a little emptier.

And even the mountaintop is sad.

All this world's work should have dignity. All this world's work should support the people who do it.

A member of the working class always leaves a huge hole in the web of life.

Thank you for letting him know how appreciated he was in life.

Sounds like the gentleman was very rich in the ways which truly matter.

Thank you for sharing your memories of a wonderful man with us. You have given a most reverent tribute to someone most of us probably wish we had met.

:toast: to your old friend. May his shade know the affection you had for him.

Condolences on your loss. It must be a terrible sorrow to lose such a friend.

Flowers should be for the living.

Lucky you.

Lucky him.

It is always good to hear of people who live life because life is worth living. To his memory: :toast:

My condolences in the loss you feel today.

I could almost "see" your old friend coming into the market and displaying his honey jars for all to admire and inspect. That must be a lovely village, one of peace and slow pace.

What a serene picture you paint, and how lucky you were to have touched the life of Wszystkiego dobrego, and he yours.

means "all the best" in Polish, but I know what you meant, thanks.

Here is our town's market square on a non-market day. Our beekeeper's
stand was right next to the column and fountain that you see in the
center of the photo.

I am always so drawn to people who are passionate about what they do. Perhaps especially when it's something some might consider... small. It's easy for most of us to imagine being passionate about playing violin in a symphony orchestra or being a profesional athelete or a world leader. But what of the everyday people who take pride in selling wonderful honey, or growing delicious vegetables, or making sure a book is perfectly edited, or a hotel is spotlessly clean? Life is so much better when you can take pride in and be passionate about what you do, no matter what it is. People who know this and live like this not only improve their own lives but the lives of everyone around them.

Thank you for telling us about your friend. My condolences to you and may he rest in peace.

P.S. It was lovely of you to take the time to write him and wish him well. You'll probably never know how much that meant to him. I've had things like that happen to me unexpectedly and it really touched me.

are talking about. I'll listen spell-bound for as long as they go on gibbering.

every where, every day there are good people who touch their community in positive ways, who make life better and more interesting for their fellows.

I strive to be such a person and always try to give others the pat on the back, the big smile and the sincere 'thank you'

sorry for your loss, but so glad your life was touched by this humble and unsung hero

:hi:

Thank you for sharing that.

To the honey-man! :toast:

Although I wonder if you could help me with my Polish. Is it proper to say "ya kochach ty" or as my 1st generation Polish friend said "ya chee koho" or are they the same phrase with 'ty' being pronounce 'chee' and kochach as 'koho'?

Ja cię kocham.

It's pronounced roughly: "ya tsiem koham"

In Polish, the ę is not quite an "em" but almost.
It's one of those sounds that is hard to explain
in writing, because they have it and we don't.
The Polish "ch" is far softer than the German
"ch," and is more of a well articulated English "h"
as in the beginning of a word, like "horse."

There are regional differences in dialects, and I
don't know from what part of Poland your friend is
from. All I know is standard Warszawa (Warsaw),
and only a very limited amout at that. Even their
capital city is pronounced in their own way: "var-SHAH-va."

That ought to do it for one day. Class dismissed!

the way and your tribute is beautiful.

Thank you.

It's all about connections, relationships.

People like this ALWAYS touch the lives of others in profound ways.

Actually, I was surprised to see any replies at all to this thread.

I just wanted to get it off my chest and DU happened to be my victim,
and even then, I just happened to be looking over the GD when I thought
to start writing.

It's a snap to rage on about the big picture, Bush, Republicans,
Neanderthals masquerading as "conservatives," or even the usuals brawls
over our own party's candidates or direction, or gays, or Southerners,
or whatever. And maybe it's a little selfish of me to barge in with
such a small personal post. I usually don't. But this was an unusual
loss for us, and I'm not above letting a man like the beekeeper loom
large in my thoughts when he passes. Yeah, I get to chat with people
that are always on the front pages of newspapers and the Sunday talk
shows, but that doesn't mean that I, or anyone else, can't be just as
deeply affected by a person with just as much charisma that, due to
history, would never be a subject of discussion here. Most of us know
at least one person like that, or have known at some time or other,
and I'm not looking to turn this board into a nostalgia forum. But
even so, this was one very special inconsequential guy. Maybe it's
not a bad thing to remember that there are way more people like him
out there than there are presidential candidates.

The Honey Man sounds like a real "honey." Thank you for sharing your story here.

Sorry you lost a dear friend...:hug: