Y’all settle in. There are a few places in this world where life gets real. You know what I mean. Where rubber meets the road. Hospital rooms, church altars, courtrooms, gravesides, and bars at two a.m, to name a few. Delmar Maples was my co-worker for my cumulative years at Co-op. He didn’t say much, but that’s ok, because what he said counted. He always, always, said “Good Morning,” (which seems to be becoming less common these days). If yes or no was adequate, that’s what you got. I think the first time we ever really had a conversation was when he was showing off his first grandson, he carried him all over the store, grinning ear to ear.  Delmar was a small man, with ropy muscled arms, dark eyes, and a scraggly beard. He was never without a mesh-backed “old man” hat that he carefully folded down in the center, essentially making a crown around his head. He traveled with a limp & a whistle. Delmar changed the oil in Patsy many times, & filled a bunch of propane tanks for me & the rest of Sevier County. He didn’t complain or ask for a break in the rain & sleet & snow. He simply bowed his head to the weather & kept working. He crushed boxes too, & I’m ashamed to admit how many times he saved…