Well, at least my photo isn't on the wall at the Post Office

People are so nice in Southeast Missouri. I know this because they are so nice to me, sometimes when I least expect it.

I am still both pleased and surprised when folks I have never met before come up to me at restaurants or in supermarkets and tell me they love my column.

Occasionally, some kind stranger says he disagrees with something I've written, but most everyone else, being brought up properly and having good manners, says something nice.

Of course, there's that one fellow who stopped me in a parking lot one day when the wind was blowing and the temperatures were in the mid-20s. He yelled, as his words drifted in the breeze, "You're a Communist, aren't you?"

OK, Emily Post, what is the polite response to that?

I didn't feel like taking the time to explain to this fellow that I try, in general, to avoid anything ending in "-list," even though I was occasionally called a "journalist" over my 45-year career. I tried being a Methodist once, and that didn't work out. I'm pretty sure I'm not a pessimist.

When strangers say nice things to me, I always assume they associate me with the fellow whose picture accompanies this column each Friday. That's interesting, because that guy in that photo isn't even me.

No, that photo is one I found more than 15 years ago. I decided to use it for my column because I thought the man in the picture looked like he wouldn't drool in public. All I wanted was a public face that wouldn't scare off readers.

I happen to know the man in that picture. When I picked that photo all those years ago, he could remember simple stuff, like national holidays and mail schedules and bankers' hours.

All of this came crashing together this week when we observed Veterans Day on Monday. I remembered not to put out my trash for the regular Monday pickup, knowing the city was taking off Monday for the national holiday. Every time I went to the mailbox I smugly looked at my neighbors' overflowing trash containers sitting on the curb waiting to be picked up by crews that would not show up until Tuesday. After my fourth trip to the mailbox, my wife pointed out that national holidays are observed by the U.S. Postal Service too.

See, the guy in that photo remembered stuff like that. I don't.

There are other differences between that guy in the photo and me. For example, when that photo was taken, that fellow was gainfully employed and paid generously into the Social Security pot. Me? I am on the public dole, taking monthly stipends from Washington and relying on Medicare to deal with those outrageous charges from doctors and hospitals.

That guy in the photo was a conservative through and through. He railed at deadbeats who think the government ought to provide just about everything. Me? I gladly take anything the government sends my way.

Isn't that sad?

A while back I was out doing some shopping and a woman stopped me and said, "I know you from somewhere, don't I? Who are you?" I hesitated a moment, thinking she might remember one of my columns in particular. "Are you on TV?" she asked. Seeing she wasn't going to make a connection with the photo that appears each week in this space, I said, "I write for the newspaper." She took another intense look at my face, trying to put it all together. Then she lit up in a smile. "Why, of course! I'd know you anywhere, Sam!"

I took it as a great compliment to be mistaken for one of the Missourian's all-time best columnists, Sam Blackwell.

So if you see me out and about, please feel free to walk up and say what you think. Just remember that I am not the guy in the photo. And I am not a Communist.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.