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By Jim Caltagirone
For the Mirror
I have the Altoona Curve to thank for my introduction to George Darr.
For as long as I can remember, George was an attendant in a parking area south of the plaza at Peoples Natural Gas Field.
He was one of those people who always left a favorable impression.
George was blessed with a quick wit, an engaging smile and an upbeat disposition.
If George had cares, he never displayed them on the job. It was obvious that he was a proud ambassador of the Curve and that he enjoyed interacting with patrons.
He always made me feel special and added something positive to my ballpark experience.
So I was saddened to learn in May that George had fallen ill. The appearance of his obituary in the Mirror in early June created the type of sickening feeling that accompanies the realization that you'll never have the opportunity to talk to someone ever again.
Death is a thief. Without warning, it robs survivors of every semblance of control.
Death never gave me a chance to say goodbye to George or to thank him for the many times he brightened my day.
George was 80 at the time of his passing. His obituary included a simple sentence stating that he worked parking cars for the Altoona Curve.
While that is accurate, it falls substantially short of describing his impact in the role.
There was nothing fake about George. He joked around and shared small talk because he wanted to.
I don't think he really had any choice. That was just part of his nature.
George was the type of employee who personifies what minor league baseball is all about.
If success in commercial business is based on "location, location, location," then creating a memorable fan experience in minor league baseball demands applying the personal touch.
In Altoona, for example, that personal touch takes the form of team executives mingling with fans on the concourse and expressions of organizational gratitude from the time you enter the ballpark until you exit.
George understood the concept of fan appreciation and he lived it. I only visited with him when I attended Curve games, but my perception is that he treated everyone he encountered with respect.
I met George as a stranger, but he made me feel like I was his friend from day one. There were times when our conversation was limited to a few minutes because he needed to attend to duties, but the feelings of kinship that he generated were long lasting.
I'm sure some people just walked right past George without acknowledging his greetings or even his presence.
I'm even more certain that George never allowed rudeness or incivility to affect his personality or diminish the amount of joy that he derived from his job.
He didn't have time to dwell on negativity. The positive dynamic that he created was all-consuming.
When your job facilitates an ongoing connection with casual acquaintances, it's easy to be recognized as a familiar face. Your absence from that environment, however, makes it much harder to be remembered by those same people.
I won't have any difficulty remembering George when I walk past his post on the way to the ballpark.
I'll recall his standard greeting of "Hey buddy, how's it goin?"
And then I'll smile.
Just as George Darr always did when he said it.
Jim Caltagirone resides in Altoona. He is a regular contributor to Voice of the Fan.