Former resident mourns Sandy

When I saw him a few weeks ago, I was surprised by how thin he looked. The last time I had seen him nearly a year ago, he did not appear so frail. Since being struck with colon cancer a few years ago, Sandy’s once sculpted muscles had been in decline. But his smile had not changed.

I ran into Sandy outside a restaurant downtown, and like so many countless times before, I slipped him a couple dollars, and he handed me a single flower. It was a scene that was repeated many times in the 12 years I lived in Chattanooga. Following the exchange, I offered him a hug, which he accepted graciously. As usual, he had little to say — just a flower and a smile.

For all the times Sandy and I spoke over the years, I suspect he never remembered my name, or ever knew the names of so many others who never missed a chance to slip him a dollar for a bloom, but everyone knew his name. He was Sandy the Flower Man.

Sandy was what you might call a “fixture” in Chattanooga. For me, he defined downtown as much as the Choo-Choo, or The Aquarium.

I was at my desk in Juneau, Alaska, when I heard the news on Facebook. Photos and memories flooded my feed.

I was not there to place a flower on the heap and remember Sandy with the rest of his admirers, but I was glad to have had one last opportunity to share a smile with him near the end of his life.

This week, I will buy a flower and give it to a stranger. If they ask me why, I will tell them I am doing it to spread a smile, and because that is what a very special man called Sandy taught me to do.