When people find out I write for a newspaper, the first question they ask is if I've ever interviewed someone famous -- a movie star or a well-known politician, they'll say.
The answer is I've never interviewed someone famous, but I've interviewed quite a few important people.
My definition of important is someone who gives of themselves to make the world a better place. They instinctively know to give of one's heart and soul leaves a longer lasting impact on society than simply showing up on a movie screen or making lots of money.
Over the past few weeks, this community lost two respected citizens, Mason Briscoe and Arthur Mahlmann.
I first met Mr. Briscoe when I stopped into the Fort Bend Feed and Farm Supply many years ago. I'd heard they had rawhide bones for our dog, but I found out the-visited store on Highway 90A had much more than pet supplies and tomato plants.
They had Mr. Briscoe.
With his slow Texas drawl and ready smile, I immediately felt at home with him, and so did everyone who came into the store.
He hid his accomplishments, preferring to talk about current events, the weather or what was happening with someone else. Over the years, I visited the store under the pretext of picking up dog food, but I really came to visit with Mr. Briscoe.
One year, the newspaper decided to profile World War II veterans, and Mr. Briscoe's name came up. We sat down in his cozy office in the back of the store, the desks filled with papers accumulated over years of working in the same place.
In his unhurried way, Mr. Briscoe described being a carefree young boy and shipping off to war in Europe. He was debonair, dashing and full of mischief, but the war forced him to grow up.
While in Europe, he earned medals and commendations for bravery. He came home a man, settled down and quietly made this part of the world a better place.
Many young people at St. John's United Methodist Church credit Mr. Briscoe with setting them on the right path to becoming a man, and he did so with gentle guidance, sound advice and a twinkle in his eye.
Mr. Briscoe was life-long friends with Arthur Mahlmann. Like Briscoe, Mr. Mahlmann shipped out to Europe as an idealistic young man, prepared to fight for freedom. He came under gunfire, earned medals and commendations, yet never hesitated to step forward when duty required his bravery.
When he returned to Rosenberg, he married a lovely home-town girl, Lydia, and worked his entire life in Rosenberg to create homes and neighborhoods.
A devout Catholic, Mr. Mahlmann made sure his church received updates and renovations, and his commitment to his faith was unshakable. I was fortunate to spend time with Mr. Mahlmann because he wanted to dictate his biography so his children and grandchildren would know their heritage.
Once a week for four months, we sat together, and, in his deep, baritone voice, Mr. Mahlmann described his beliefs, his commitment to Rosenberg and his unwavering love for his family, especially his still-beautiful bride, Lydia.
Not only did he leave a wonderful history for his family, Mr. Mahlmann unknowingly taught me to stay true to my convictions, especially when times were difficult, believe I could make the world a better place and to always cherish my family.
I could never bring myself to call these two gentlemen by their first names, even though they would've been comfortable with being greeted that way. They deserved respect because they lived what they believed every single day of their lives.
So whenever I'm asked if I've ever interviewed someone important, I think about Mr. Mahlmann and Mr. Briscoe.
And the answer is "yes."
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.
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