Take care of the little guy as if you will be dependent on him someday

As we roar through our daily lives we encounter daily examples of the little guy, whose job you would never want to do, acting as happy as a cat in a room full of catnip.  Sometimes we wonder why that person never chose to climb the ladder a bit higher for the years of time worked.  Sometimes, they are so invisible, we don't notice them at all.

Tuesday I was in need of a service for which I had never before had the need.  I was to be released from the big hospital in Kansas City and needed transport over 125 miles home.  Kansas City had their first significant snow/cold event of this Winter.  Nearly all schools were closed, yada, yada, yada.  Ice everywhere, per the talking heads on the TV.  My case manager called a company to get a quote.  Boom, we are in business.  At the appointed time, my driver, "Mr. Invisible", arrived loaded me into a wheelchair, got me to his wheelchair van, and hit the road, driving very carefully.  It was past dark-thirty when my driveway came into sight.  He had started his day at 4:45 a.m., driven around in the crap all day and still had a nearly three hour trip to arrive at his home.  We made sure he could put a bit more in his Christmas stocking this year.  The charge owed to his employer's company was only $600.  My initial guess was in excess of $1500.  Keeping my wife and my wheelchair van safe at home was worth every penny.

One final note.  On Monday evening, unbeknownst to my wife and I, a friend who lives about eight miles from me was on her way home from a typical work day, encountered the early onset ice on the same highway I traveled yesterday.  Her pickup slid into the oncoming lane as she slowed to move right to the exit ramp and hit a pickup head-on.  She was killed instantly.  A mutual friend told me today that he saw what was left of her 2015 F-150.  That's when they switched to aluminum bodies, he explained.  Crumpled like a Coors beer can.