b'Matters heart of thematter Thingsthat Matter Since 1990 MyFeaturing Local People, Places and PUBLISHER Unlikelywhere I was, he said, Youre not in a safe place. Im coming to get you. Fifteen minutes later, three squad cars with five officers pulled up to the gas station. It mustve been a slow & EDITOR IN CHIEF Story day at the airport. Achecking my car, a man in a flatbed While they were Ellen Donker truckpulledin.big,burlyguy,heexplainedthathe worked at the cemetery next door and wondered if he could ADVERTISING CONSULTANTS Its about a gravedigger help. After conferring with the officers, they concluded that Rene Conlon my car needed to be towed. I heard one of them comment H. Leslie Gilman BY ELLEN DONKER to another, Look at the mitts on that guy.Adrienne MacWhannellThe cemetery worker said, If you can help me get the COPY EDITORS car on my truck, Ill tow it to her garage and then take the Nick Humez little lady home. The officers nodded in agreement and I Tia Swanson found myself climbing into the passenger seat of the truck. SomethingakintoSTRANGERDANGERflashed CONTRIBUTORS repeatedly through my mind. But since the officers didnt Heidi Borst, Bisa Butler, seem concerned, I said nothing and decided to trust Rich-Adrianna Donat, Melanie Finnern, ard. He and I became acquainted during the time it took Donny Levit, Cheryl Silver, to drive to the garage and then my house on local roads at Karen Tedesco under 30 miles per hour, windows rolled down. Mostly we shouted at each other to be heard. The old truck took every bump and shift of the gears hard. Richard told me he was a gravedigger. Hed been doing it for decades, ever since coming back to the States after a stint in the militarythe Korean War, I think. He hadnt Please address all correspondence to: I every detail the storyteller is sharing. This issueplanned on this type of career but took the job after his fiance broke off their engagement. It was a way for him to quietly work out his grief. ve always loved to listen to stories. To me its a greatAt 60 years old, he reflected on his disappointment with escape, almost a luxury, to close your eyes and imag- never finding a better job or another woman to love. But it inehelped very much for him to be able to give respect to the has a feature on the art of storytelling with neighborsdead whom he had spent decades burying, especially the who are honing their craft. While I dont considerones who had no family or friends to come to the graveside. myself much of a storyteller, if pressed, I would tellThats when he would say a prayer for them. Visual Impact Advertising, Inc. you the one about me and the gravedigger.When Richard dropped me off at home, I thanked him P.O Box 198 It was a hot Sunday, right about this time of year infor going out of his way to help me and we said good-bye. Maplewood, NJ 07040 1990, when I was driving to Newark Airport to meet An- A few days later, I called Anthony to arrange another 973-763-4900mattersmagazine.comthony. He was a police officer for the Port Authority andtime to pick up my belongings. He sounded relieved that I info@mattersmagazine.com I was picking up some items that I had left at the shorewas okay and told me that after the truck had driven away, house I had rented from him.he and the officers wondered how they couldve sent me off Matters Magazine is owned and publishedSeveral miles down the Garden State Parkway, my carwith a stranger. He said they shouldve at least followed the by Visual Impact Advertising, Inc., P.O. Box 198 Maplewood, NJ 07040. Mattersstarted bucking and making noises like it was about totruck. Magazine is free, with editions direct mailedbreak down. Not wanting to be a casualty on the shoulderWhen I reflect on that story, I always feel that there was seven times a year to the residents of Maple-wood and South Orange and distributed toof the road, I took the nearest exit and steered the car intomore to it, almost as though a supernatural element had businesses and surrounding communitiesa gas stationwhich was closed.interceded. During the next few weeks I sometimes saw a totaling 16,000. Subscriptions are availableAs I looked for help, I saw I was in a bad neighbor- loud junky flatbed pass my house and Id think it was him to non-residents for $30 (U.S.) $40 (Foreign) annually. No part of the publication may behood. The streets were lined with trash and boarded upcoming to get me. But I always come back to the real end-reprinted or otherwise reproduced withoutbuildings. And the air was still with the only sounds com- ing: that a stranger, or angel, helped me simply because he writtenpermissionfromVisualImpact Advertising, Inc. ing from the hum of low-hanging electrical lines and thecould. atonal chatter of cicadas. The place was desertedat leastTragically, Anthony Infante died at the age of 47 while at-CIRCULATION VERIFIED BY temporarily. I felt as if a bad character might emerge at anytempting to rescue victims in the World Trade Center on 9/11. U.S. POSTAL RECEIPTS. moment. He was an inspector for the Port Authority Police Department; READ & RECYCLE Fortunately, I found a working pay phone (this is whathis last post was as the highest-ranking policeman at La Guar-we did in 1990) and called Anthony. When he figured outdia and Kennedy Airports.8/ matters magazine / school 2019'