Buon Giorno, Colagero! Come sta?"

I'd been waiting a year to say that. Colagero is the short, rugged-faced man I helped last year when his car wouldn't start as I wrote about in The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Christians. I only saw him one more time last summer after that happened, and I was concerned for him. In our halting coversations he'd said that his doctor had told him to walk because he has heart problems. Even though I've been walking regularly again this spring and at all hours of the morning, Colagero has been nowhere to be seen. And then I saw him coming toward us when Ruth and I were out for our morning walk. As he approached us I called out my long-rehearsed, "Buon Giorno, Colagero! Come sta!" He had a big grin on his face and we ended up saying "Come sta" in unison.

In all the time that Ruth and I have walked together, Colagero had never responded to our greetings with anything more than a wave of his hand and an inaudible welcome recognized only by the movement of his lips. Not so this morning. He was very excited to see me and was chattering away, thoughts forming faster than words. I told him that he was walking so fast this morning that we couldn't catch up with him, and he grinned broadly. Last year, he was just slouching along at a slow pace. He seemed bursting with energy this morning. He thumped his chest and said, "I'm feeling a lot stronger now," and I answered, "I can see that! We couldn't keep up with you." The conversation was brief, talking most about what a beautiful morning it was. But it was a conversation. Ruth had never heard him talk before, and he was very animated. As we parted he called back to us, "Have a beautiful-a day!"

And we have.

Jerry