My intent today was to speak fondly of four men who each have a story. I don’t know their story but it is evident in the lines on their faces, the words from their lips, the music they listen to, and the job they are doing.

I adopted these painters as my four Eldons. You remember from the series Murphy Brown. He was her painter, he was quirky, he was a perfectionist, clearly bi-polar one day up the next he could have been seen as lazy. He came to do the job but never left until he ended the series by saying, I’m finished. Meaning his work was completed. It’s not lost on anyone that at some later date he indeed was “finished” long before his time. That became his story.

The Eldons came nearly a month ago, following closely after the very pretty construction crew boys that were removing and replacing boards, hammering away and, well, bringing some much needed “improvement” to the look of the neighborhood. These boys, however, did not yet have a story. By contrast the Eldons weren’t pretty.

I got to know the four Eldons over fresh baked banana muffin tops (because the 11^th commandment is thou shalt not throw away bananas) eaten on my deck in the pouring rain. They were power washing, they were surprised at the kindness and grateful for the hot coffee and the small break. It went on from there, they showed me kindness, called me by name (as I did them) and did the best they could to get me back on my deck quickly. It’s true what they say about not knowing what you’ve got til it’s gone, my deck is integral to my mental health.

And then they were finished. My guess is I’ll never see them again but I’m grateful for the work they did and the kindness they showed me. I hope the story they tell themselves includes the good work they do and the fact that they have overcome “something” in their lives.

Earlier today there was a mass shooting in Orlando that took the lives of 50 people and wounded 53 more. I don’t know their stories either but I know that all they were doing was dancing. I am loath to say that these were members of the gay community as I want them to be seen as members of our community, my community. I want so badly for people to stop being labeled and exterminated because of that label in the name of yet another label.

I have no words for why. I have no words for the fear or extremism that makes one human think they are superior to another. I have no words for the heartbreak I feel for that loss, for those families and for my ever changing country.

The only thing I have words for is the power of kindness, the art of good work no matter where on the hierarchy it falls and the hope that everyone’s story overcomes their labels.