I sat in Ed’s driveway for a minute or two on that cold evening a few years ago just to appreciate all he has done for our community. Up to that point, I had never met him, but of course I knew of him.
I’ve thought about that first “almost” visit with Ed a lot lately, since I learned that Ed had died. For decades, he graced this community with his wisdom and generosity.
“A Celebration of Ed” will take place at 2 p.m. Sunday at the First United Methodist Church, 401 E. 33rd St. in Vancouver.
There are literally thousands of local residents who knew Ed much better than I did. But through this column — which I’m told he read on occasion — I sort of came into his home. Not that my column was always welcome, mind you. But Ed was a voracious reader his entire life. In fact, Ed’s book collection is so large, it would rival those of many city libraries.
And I suspect — like all great men — he could evaluate people accurately. Including me. I learned this at a party we both attended. I greeted Ed when I saw him, and when we shook hands, he pulled me closer. He felt I was being a bit naive when I wrote about a particular politician.
“Don’t trust …,” he told me flatly. “… is not what you think.”
Later, I received an unexpected phone call from Ed to support his contention.
As a journalist, you learn to be cautious of everything that is said to you. Everyone has an angle. So part of a journalist’s job is to vet the person who is giving you information to better figure out what that angle is.
Ed’s angle was the betterment of our community.
Period.
So when he spoke to me, I listened carefully. Very carefully. Put simply, he was one of the people I trusted the most.
o o o
In December, I was again invited back to a Mains holiday party. Only this time, the party moved to Ed’s home to sing Christmas carols. It looked like Ed was enjoying the company.
When I had a chance to say hello to Ed, we talked about — of all things — the tile on his floor. Hey, I brought up the topic! They were big, white, square tiles, the kind I hope to have in my home one day.
Ed smiled and said he liked the tile too. But he wanted me to take note of his office space. He said he enjoyed sitting and working in his office because of its huge windows. When I stood there, I could clearly see how he could look out over our community.
And in the end, that’s exactly what Ed did. He looked out for our community. For us.
Ed brought so many values to this community, it will be difficult for us to let him go. Fortunately, Ed will be among a handful of others who will never really go. He will always be here, deep within us.
So as we celebrate Ed’s life on Sunday, there’s one thing I’m certain of. The celebration will continue every day, because he has given so much to this community.
That is Ed’s legacy.
