Saying goodbye to a dedicated reader

Nearly every morning for the past seven years, I could set my watch by the sound of footsteps on my porch. There was a rhythmic thunk-tap of shoes on the wood walkway as my paper carrier headed to my front door. Then I would hear it; the plop of the newspaper landing outside. I love reading the paper copy of the Kitsap Sun. I love holding it in my hands. I still cut out and save my favorite recipes, articles, and stories. It reminds me of the past, of watching my dad read the paper aloud at the breakfast table every morning.

My paper carrier, Bob Vermeers, liked real newspapers too. He was long-time paper carrier for the Kitsap Sun, and also delivered the New York Times, The Seattle Times, and the Wall Street Journal. He never threw the newspaper haphazardly onto my driveway, which happens to be very steep. He always parked his car, got out, and walked down 20 or so steps, crossed the porch, and left the paper right on the welcome mat. Some mornings, I would catch a glimpse of him walking back up the steps and returning to his car as I left for my morning walk around the neighborhood.

If your paper was missed or delivered late over the past few weeks, you are not alone. On Sunday, November 19, Bob Vermeers, an 82-year-old Navy veteran, died unexpectedly while delivering newspapers. His car hit the garage of one of the homes on his route when it happened. You can read more about Bob and his wife Wanda, who were married for 55 years and delivered papers together every morning, in last week's column by Kitsap Sun Editor David Nelson.

Bob enjoyed reading the papers as well as delivering them. And Bob read my column. He would often share his thoughts about what I wrote, too. One stands out as quite memorable. About a year ago, I wrote two columns in a row floating the idea of forming a public hospital district in our community. The day after the second column ran, the Sun published a front-page story — written by Nathan Pilling — about other local public hospital districts in the area and how communities could benefit from such an option.

That morning, while I was out walking, Bob scared the living daylights out of me. He beeped his horn, pulled his car over on the side of the road, and got out. At first, with headlights shining in my face, I could not tell who got out of the car. I contemplated running for my life, until I saw a paper in the man’s hand. Then I knew it was Bob. He walked over to me and pointed at Nathan’s front page story. He said, “you did this.” He was smiling. He said, “Thank you for doing what you do.”

It was on a recent Sunday September morning when I really understood how much he enjoyed reading the papers he delivered. The Seattle Times published a story about my work with the Office of Public Defense as part of the medical defense team defending parents wrongly accused of child abuse. I did not know the story made the front page of the Sunday edition. I was still groggy when I heard those familiar footsteps on my porch. Then, I heard a knock at the door. When I opened the door, Bob had a huge grin on his face. He handed me the Sunday edition of the Times and said he thought I might like to have my own copy. He told me to “keep up the good work.”

Our only hiccup occurred when I came out one morning a few years ago to find a huge dent on the back rear side of my minivan. Frustrated, I walked around the car to inspect the damage and wondered why no one left me a message. Then I noticed a tiny handwritten note on the windshield. Bob had accidentally hit my car. His note offered an apology and to pay for the damages. The cost of the repair was estimated to be a couple thousand dollars — way too expensive, in my opinion, to fix. I did not have the heart to tell Bob how much it would cost. I told him my patients have teased me for years about the poor condition of the cars I drive, so I did not plan to repair it. Bob’s dent is still there.

Our last conversation took place on the Friday before Thanksgiving. I was a bit preoccupied due to an important meeting later that morning. In hindsight, I wished I had paid more attention when he rolled down the window to say hello. He explained he was not going to drop the paper on the porch for a little while because he was feeling poorly. I told him I hoped he felt better soon.

I noticed he looked slightly pale and his breathing was more labored, although the meaning of those changes did not register until later. While Bob rarely missed a delivery day, recently, his pace had slowed over and his footsteps were less thunk-tap. He had been shuffling along instead of picking each foot up and putting it down like he used to when he crossed the porch. When my paper did not arrive on Sunday morning, I should have known the reason why.

I know there will never be another paper carrier quite like Bob Vermeers, and I am grateful to have known him and his wife, Wanda. Of course, I will keep subscribing to the paper copy of the Kitsap Sun as long as there are paper carriers to deliver it. the paper arrives, now in a blue plastic sleeve thrown onto my driveway, but it will never be the same.

It isn’t that we need more paper carriers like Bob Vermeers; we need more people like him in the world. I think fondly of Bob every morning when I walk up the hill to retrieve my paper or I see the now-endearing dent in my minivan. I miss his footsteps, most of all. Bob, wherever you are, I hope there are plenty of steps to climb, porches to cross, and newspapers to deliver.

Dr. Niran Al-Agba is a pediatrician in Silverdale and writes a regular opinion column for the Kitsap Sun. Contact her at niranalagba@gmail.com.

This article originally appeared on Kitsap Sun: A great Kitsap Sun newspaper carrier is remembered