PAUL ZELAS: APRIL 13, 1958 - MAY 8, 2021
Shortly after I retired from the post office on Oct. 3, 2008, I received a Christmas gift, “Reclaiming History - The Assassination of President John F. Kennedy” by Vincent Bugliosi, the District Attorney famous for his prosecution of Charles Manson in the early 1970s. The book weighed over 7 pounds and contained more than a million and a half words, twice as many as contained in the authorized King James Version of the Old and New Testaments of the Bible..
“Dear Dan,” read the inscription on the flyleaf, “Happy healthy Retirement! I hope your retirement will last as long as it takes to finish reading this book - at least. All the best! Your Friend, Paul.”
I met Paul Zelas at the post office. We worked together on the afternoon shift for my last 13 or 14 years, often in the Registry Room where we made the oddest of couples. He was for Reagan and Bush. I was for Carter and Clinton. He lived and died with his beloved Chicago sports teams and heroes. I cheered for their hated rivals in Detroit.
He got much of his information from the Fox News Network and I got mine from MSNBC.
He thought Ann Coulter was a brilliant political pundit. I mocked her as a witless caricature of right wing zealotry. I would refute her propaganda with quotes from Keith Olbermann. He would scoff at the wisdom of the MSNBC anchorman.
But our political differences were never of the mean spirited kind that dominates American culture today. The parries and thrusts of our daily political debates were always executed with good humor and genuine respect. We both always knew we had far more in common than our differing political opinions. In fact, if not for politics and sports, we would have had nothing to argue about at all.
We were both raised in good Catholic families. We both agreed that nobody wrote better newspaper columns than Mike Royko. We both liked John Wayne movies. We both liked the movie “Ace In The Hole.” Paul even wrote a few columns for the local Union paper under that byline when I was the editor. We both were big supporters of the United States military and especially our military veterans. We both were big supporters of our union, the American Postal Workers Union.
He thought I was a great fellow. I thought the same about him.
We stayed in contact by phone for awhile after I left the post office, then lost touch with each other as friends often do. Every once in awhile I’d bump into someone I knew still working at the post office. When I did I would usually get around to asking about Paul and tell them to say hello to him for me.
And every so often I’d tell myself I have to look up Paul’s number and give him a call. But I never did. And now I never will.
I’m now about two-thirds of the way through the Kennedy Assassination book. The bookmark sits between pages 1044 and 1045. Which means I’ve got a section about two-thirds the size of the Holy Bible left to read. So I better get going.
If Paul knew I’d had 12 years and still hadn’t finished that d - - n book, I’m sure he’d have something funny to say about it.
So Rest In Peace,my old friend. You never made it to retirement. You never got to play that ace in the hole you were holding.
But I’ll think of you every time I open that book.
