R.I.P., TOAD. A public Facebook post by reader Bart Hall, which I don’t think he’ll mind me sharing here:

Farewell to “Toad.”

When I moved to Lawrence [Kansas] a quarter century ago, a few years before buying my farm, he was already the main “character” along the Massachusetts St downtown business area. In my youth, most towns of any size had one or two such folks, but these days Lawrence [pop 110,000] is nearly unique not only for the vitality of its downtown, but also in its genuine love for its small handful of genuine characters, of whom Toad was the chief.

He was not very bright, but made up for it in his kindness, playfulness, servant’s heart, and quiet joy. Everybody loved him, and he worked honestly in return for being looked after wherever he went. In winter he would shovel sidewalks for the stores before they opened, and be fed a good breakfast, or given a jacket.

All year long he’d pick up trash, run errands for multiple busy shopkeepers, and shoo the hard-core slob type homeless away, but share his food with them in exchange for their departure from “his” downtown.

I knew him from John’s barber shop, which I first visited 30 years ago when working in the area. Three Amyx brothers have barber shops on Mass [as we call it], and with John they are the fifth generation of downtown barbers in that family.

John’s was Toad’s lunch spot nearly every day, which is why I almost always timed my visits for midday. He’d take the barbers’ orders and purchase what they wanted. Apparently he’d never messed up an order, and the barbers made sure he had enough cash for his main meal of the day, which he would then eat happily on one of the main waiting benches, where he would tease customers, and we would tease him back — none of it in the slightest way unkind. Rather loving, in fact.

One time there was a 7 yo boy, very unhappy. Toad asked him what was the matter, to which he blubbered “I’ve lost all my teeth and I can hardly eat !” Toad offered a nearly toothless smile and said “You’ll grow new ones, but I never will.” and showed him how to use his tongue to shove food to where he did have teeth. Then handed the kid his own lunch cookie and said “Now you try it.” I gave John an extra tip for Toad’s meals, and I greatly doubt I was the only one.

Today as I sat in the chair I asked John “Where’s Toad?” … “He died yesterday, after a week in the hospital. Some driver hit him, and we all were pulling for him, but he was too smashed up.” He had stopped cutting my hair, and each of us could see in the mirror that the other was dabbing his eyes.

Such a man was the simple, sincere Toad. He had no next-of-kin, but hundreds of us mourn the man’s passing. He took what he had and with loving hearts all around him he made a different sort of life, but a profoundly successful one. Downtown merchants are already discussing where to install a significant bronze plaque in his honor, but it will be somewhere in his kingdom, pictured below.

Having such a fine small city only 20 km away greatly enhances my life out here … beyond the sidewalks.

Lawrence is a nice little town.