An Un-inked Ledger

“There ought to be a way for us to tell those that had a huge impact on our lives how grateful we are to them.” – Randy Favero

An Un-inked Ledger

“He was one-hundred-three and nine months old,” Randy said, during a conversation just after the passing of his father.  “He had decided he wanted to make it to one-hundred-four.  Then, one day he told me that he’d had enough.”

Jim Favero was a fixture in the County Hills area of Ogden.  He had many facets.  One of the things he was best known for was his shoe store in Downtown Ogden, Favero’s Shoes.  Through the nineteen-sixties people in Ogden flocked there to get their shoes because of Jim.  Perhaps his customers could have purchased their shoes at other locations, including two large department stores present in the area then, but they went to Favero’s because of their relationship with Jim and his family.

He raised his family in the greater Ogden community.  They were active in people’s lives, doing good where ever they saw a need.  They had seemingly endless talent and hearts that spread love abundantly across town.  So much so, that there is no way one could ever complete a full ledger detailing all of the lives Jim and his family touched.  This one phone call to Randy Favero, was a gesture aimed at completing one small, albeit important, line in such an un-inked ledger.  It was a call of thanks and acknowledgement of a life well-lived life.

The ensuing conversation brought to mind a thought that, perhaps we, those continuing to swim in the time-bound now, too often miss the opportunity to speak words of thanks to those who have had immeasurable positive impact on our lives, before the sound of time’s ticking fades from the ears of our heroes.  And, one attempt to remedy this omission illustrates its rarity.

“Are you alright?  Are you putting your affairs in order?” Were the questions of immediate import from Jack and Maxine Young, two of Jim Favero’s contemporary big-hearted and love spreading fellow-heroes during such a purposed call.

A response of, “No, everything is just fine, I just wanted you to know.” Elicited laughter from both telephones engaged in the conversation.

Through two very different telephones, at a much different time, Randy echoed that laughter as a result of this shared story.  “There ought to be a way for us to tell those that had a huge impact on our lives how grateful we are to them.” He said.

“He was one-hundred-three and nine months old,” Randy also said, during a conversation just after the passing of his father.  “He had decided he wanted to make it to one-hundred-four.”

If you and I wait until we’re in our one-hundred-fourth year, almost one-hundred-three and nine months old, to give personal thanks to the most impactful souls in our lives, those who have helped us to become better, more loving people, while the ticking of the clock still sounds in warm ears, our un-inked ledger will never be filled!

Can you hear the ticking of a clock?