SMALL TOWN TIDBITS:
A Friend Indeed

By Jeanne Moseley

If you're looking for a plumber, you won't find Mr. B in the yellow pages. That's because he's mostly retired at age 75, although he continues to handle a few longtime clients.

Yesterday, he pulled up in his rusted-out, vintage pickup that he affectionately calls "the rust tub" and I watched through my office window as he carefully gathered his tools. Of his truck he comments, "It's old and rusty -- just like me."

Our family first became acquainted with Mr. B after he began retrieving toys and stuffed animals from our daughter's bathroom toilet. That was more than 20 years ago.

Since then, few have been as loyal to our needs as good old Mr. B.

There was the Sunday my husband drove a nail through a water pipe and Mr. B jumped up from the dinner table and was here in five minutes. And when our neighbor drove her car into a tree, I think it was more than happenstance that Mr. B was the first on the scene to help.

He's the nice gentleman who tips his hat and holds the door open for the ladies, and you can count on his jokes to put a little giggle in your day.

Mr. B and his truck are a treasured keepsake reminding me that some things in life never change. Or at least with Mr. B, they haven't yet.

---

What prompted me to write this little story was something that happened yesterday as Mr. B was parking at the back door. On the phone, conducting business with our insurance agent (now living in another state), I said, "Tom, can you hold on a minute? Mr. B is here and I need to..." To which Tom interrupted, "Oh, can I talk to him a minute?" Turns out they were golf buddies. Figured that's something that doesn't happen much in the big city.

Copyright ©2001 Jeanne Moseley