I walked from Park Street instead of South Station this morning. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have seen the memorial to Bob Wright in the window of the Park Street Church.
I never had a conversation with him, outside of exchanging waves in the mornings or afternoons as I rushed to and from the train, but seeing him there on the corner with his signs and his welcoming smile never failed to pull me out of a sour mood after a bad commute.
There’s a very sweet tribute to him here, from a blogger who did what I was always too shy to do: strike up a conversation with the man who wanted everyone to smile.
While I stood there, reading one of his essays that his friends had placed in the window, another woman came up beside me. We exchanged sighs instead of smiles and went on our separate ways.
There’s a memorial for him tomorrow at 12:15. I think I’ll be going.