The trashman

Our family said good-bye to a friend this past Friday. Alan, or as the kids call him "the trashman", was indeed, our trashman. He works for the waste management company that collects the trash in our town and has been our trashman for the last few years. This year his company lost the bid for our town, and this past Friday was his last day on our route.

The first summer we lived in our house I was pregnant with our first child. One hot, humid Friday I was pulling some weeds out of the garden along our driveway when the trash truck pulled up. The driver got out and asked me if I minded if he used our hose to fill his water bottle. I told him he was welcome to do so. He proceeded to fill the bottle, thanked me, got back on his truck and drove away. As he drove off I thought about what a hot, smelly, and thankless job that must be. Before he returned from the cul-de-sac to pass our house again I ran in the house and grabbed a cold Coke out of the fridge. As the the trash truck rumbled back up the street I stood at the end of our driveway and flagged him down with a can of Coke. He hopped off his truck with a look of genuine surprise, thanked me, took the Coke and drove away. Thus began a "tradition" in our household. At that time my husband was home every other Friday, so on the days he was home he would take something out for the trashman to drink. Pretty much every Friday since then if we've been home, the trashman has had a cold beverage delivered.

It didn't take long for the trashman to get friendly with us. He appreciated the little refreshment we provided and he would stop and talk for a minute. On his return from the cul-de-sac he would toot the horn and wave as he passed our house. One day my parents were there and were surprised at how friendly our trashman was. I told them how we had befriended him, and it wasn't long before my Dad was doing the same thing on Wednesdays, the day the trashman hit my parent's house. Over time we learned our trashman's name was Brian. Each week we would chat for a minute, it's amazing how much you can learn about someone's life in just a few minutes a week. Brian was a nice guy. After the birth of our son Phillip I took a drink out to him one week to find that he had a gift for us. He had bought (and wrapped) a couple of packs of baby wipes and some socks for our new arrival, along with some M&M's for Kylie. A couple of years ago Brian left to take a different route. He introduced us to the new driver when he was training him, and told him to take good care of us (he did the same at my Dad's house).

My children think it's perfectly normal to watch for the trash truck and run down the driveway with a cold drink for the driver. When Kylie started school in the fall she made me promise to take a drink down to the trashman on Friday afternoons since she wouldn't be there to do it. Now that Phillip is no longer scared of the big green truck (he used to hide in the house and peek out at it but he wouldn't approach it), he carries the drink down the driveway. A few weeks ago, on Kylie's first Friday out of school, she and Phillip were actually fighting about who was carrying the drink down to Alan. I was able to resolve their battle - Phillip carried the bottle of water, and Kylie took him a pack of chocolate chip cookies. This past Friday in addition to the drink and the cookies Alan was presented with a card that Kylie made for him, complete with a picture of him and his trash truck, and the words "We will miss you Alan. Love Kylie, Phillip, and Bella". Rob was home from work that afternoon so the whole family walked down to bid farewell to Alan and wish him well. We waited for the big truck to thunder up the road from the cul-de-sac and gave Alan one last wave before walking back up our driveway. As we returned to the house Kylie asked "Mom, are we gonna give the next trashman water and cookies too?", at which time Phillip started jumping up and down yelling "I wanna carry the water, I wanna carry the water!". The tradition carries on...