One size fits all

Artie is gone. At least from this life.

I met Artie years ago when the HandiMart didn't have gas tanks. He asked me to come take a picture of the huge holes in the ground. Michael and Courtney were barely knee high.

That began a friendship that lasted for years.

Art Eld, the Voice of the Rebels. A DamnYankee for sure. But one of the good ones. A yankee is someone from north of the Mason Dixon Line. A DamnYankee is one who comes to the South and stays. Artie even admitted to be a DamnYankee and loved to joke about it. He loved to joke about his accent, about himself.

Artie loved his kids, his grandkids and of course sports. He loved the Rebels and really enjoyed being in the press box to call the games. But if you knew Artie, you knew that.

If you did not know Artie, then you did not know a truly fine man. You did not know a man who put his community first. You did not know a man who worked hard to make things better for other people. You did not know a man with a booming voice, a massive smile and a firm handshake. You did not know a man who was an immediate friend to everyone until he was given cause to be otherwise.

You don't know that your world was a little less bright for not knowing Artie Eld.

You don't know that our world, here in this little community, is a little less bright today.

Artie is gone from this realm of existence. What's left goes into one-size-fits-all container. That's makes me even more sad.

How can one simple box hold everything that Artie Eld was? How can it really reflect who Artie was and the impact he had on so many people? How can that be fair?

How can the hole left in so many lives be filled now?

We shall, as Artie insisted, continue. But it just won't be the same.