For the past 6 years, Bob has been calling me about once a month to order pocket angels. He is a kind and likable gentleman from out west and we have built a rapport throughout our many phone calls. He always says, “I need some more of those angels for your pocket” and then asks, “do you have a minute for a story?”
Bob buys and gives away our pocket angels as he crisscrosses the United States as a long-distance truck driver. He tells me he never knows exactly what makes him give a certain person an angel but many times they have told him how much it means to them when he does.
He gave one away in Illinois to a cashier at a truck stop. He happened to be back in that same stop 3 months later and she said, “Thank you for that angel you gave me” (he hadn’t remembered giving her one but she obviously remembered him). She said, “I have been sober 3 years and the day you came in I had decided I needed a drink again, that angel stopped me from taking it.”
Others have told Bob of wayward teenagers needing some guidance, parents who were buried with the angel token, or many just pleased with the comfort of having it in their own pocket.
Bob lost his two children years ago to a drunk driver. That is why the angels are important to him. He lost his wife years later. If I say to him, “Have a good day” his response is “That’s the only kind to have, I’ve only had two bad days in my life.” And if I say, “Hey Bob, how are you?” as I greet him on the phone, his response is always “I’m better.” I think I’d like to try and be a little more like Bob.