|On The Retirement of a Co-worker - Musings by Gerard Geiger|
Dear Phyllis; Jan 4, 2001 I walked by your desk this morning. Of course I was on my way to get a cup of coffee. But since I was in the area decided to stop for a moment. You were not there...your glasses were not on your desk...there were no plastic bags of Girlie necessities stuffed on the countertop. There also were no other fellow workers stopping by to exchange pleasantries and jibes; their way of showing their daily respect to a fellow co-worker, confidant, conspirator and all around compatriot. I'm sure they also stopped by your desk at different times during the day. They probably noticed the same lack of life in that particular corner of Picatinny. I can only compare it to an intersection where there was a very busy marketplace, after the marketplace has closed up shop and moved away. Everytime I travel past that particular location, I feel the pull for the attraction that place had offered, but is now empty, gone; yet the memory of it remains and in some small measure this memory is enough to fill that place for a shining moment with the presence of that past attraction when it was in full operation. I look around and wonder if anyone else notices this distortion of space and time at this place. There is no one else there, Phyllis, but I know I am not the only one who noticed this phenomena. Good Luck in your retirement...you've earned it...you always willingly and graciously lent a helping hand in everything for which you undertook. In most of these tasks, you just recognized the need to become involved and took it upon yourself to complete them. In retirement and life in general you deserve the best... you steadfastly did your duty and won the trust and respect of all who know you. Most of all...Phyllis, You deserve to be missed. Your corner at Picatinny is still full of fond memories for all who remember and politely stop by ... Take care...and godspeed... Love, Your Friend, Gerard.
Read from my published works;
The Complete Poetical Works
Listening to the Corn
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