Homage to the Salt of the Earth

Who was this man, the salt of the earth?
The foundation of each day for me and others?
His day was never filled with fire or passion.
His day was always the same.
His day was one foot in front of the other.
His day was being there, without complaint and without recognition.
His day was meeting his responsibilities without expectations other than Friday's paycheck.
Other's were smarter and richer, and yet, he was without greed or envy.
He left each morning before the sun came up with that black lunchbox packed by Mom and in his gray worn work clothes.
Sunday fried chicken, the baseball game, his sons on the floor reading the Sunday Post, this was his happy reward.
I remember his quirky smile when we discussed the concept of celebrity.
He would cross the street for a friend but never for a famous idiot.
I remember his uncomfortable smile if we talked of God.
He dropped out of school in the sixth grade and became a man at 12 to save his parents' farm
With his final soldier's paycheck, he paid off that mortgage.
He had faced the War and survived keeping all the ugly memories to himself.
He raised five children and saw them all go to college with money made by hard labor.
He always felt intimidated by those with formal education.
Yet his children who were all well-educated knew they never could be as smart as he.
He was part of that great generation who went quietly into that good night.
That great generation that only asked for a roof and a meal and a healthy family.
That great generation whose sacrifices we cannot even imagine.
He knew good from bad and right from wrong by feeling in his gut.
I will never meet his stature, he raised the bar very high.
I can only hope to hang on to his values, to pass them on as best I can, in this crazy world.