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The passing of Quent Masolotte came as sad news to the community last week.
I didn’t know him the way many others did — as a teacher or fellow club member — nor did I know him for as long. I first met Quent six years ago, almost to the day of this printing. But it seems as if I’ve known him for a lifetime.
Quent was a true gentleman, a humble man, and everyone’s friend. There wasn’t a person Quent didn’t like, and there wasn’t a person who didn’t like him back. Was there any reason not to like Quent Masolotte?
He always had a smile, which was infectious, and he just plain made you feel good the moment he walked in the door.
He took a good teasing, although he wasn’t the best at doling it back.
I knew him best as a town historian, and the supplier of our many photos for our Days Gone By page. When I first started, you could bet on him stopping by every Thursday morning to drop off a few photos for the paper, but I think it was his excuse just to chat and check up on things. His visits became something the whole office looked forward to. It isn’t often that a newspaper office has “a regular,” but that’s the joy of a community paper.
A couple of years ago, it became apparent that he wasn’t able to get around the way he used to, and well, those frequent visits became infrequent. It just wasn’t the same — the place sort of lost its brightness.
So then I took to calling him and meeting him at his office whenever we needed a new batch of photos. I’d peruse the files and grab what looked interesting. He always had a suggestion for a great new photo he found. I rarely had the heart to tell him we already ran that photo a dozen times. So, I took it and maybe printed it, maybe not.
Getting used to him being gone has not been easy. But I know where he is now, and he’s bringing that infectious smile to the rest of the saints, probably over coffee. Oh, and without that cane.
He’s one man I’ll think of often. I only hope that when it’s my turn to face eternity, I will have left a similar mark on the community.
So long, Quent. I’ll see you there.
The passing of Quent Masolotte came as sad news to the community last week.
I didn’t know him the way many others did — as a teacher or fellow club member — nor did I know him for as long. I first met Quent six years ago, almost to the day of this printing. But it seems as if I’ve known him for a lifetime.
Quent was a true gentleman, a humble man, and everyone’s friend. There wasn’t a person Quent didn’t like, and there wasn’t a person who didn’t like him back. Was there any reason not to like Quent Masolotte?
He always had a smile, which was infectious, and he just plain made you feel good the moment he walked in the door.
He took a good teasing, although he wasn’t the best at doling it back.
I knew him best as a town historian, and the supplier of our many photos for our Days Gone By page. When I first started, you could bet on him stopping by every Thursday morning to drop off a few photos for the paper, but I think it was his excuse just to chat and check up on things. His visits became something the whole office looked forward to. It isn’t often that a newspaper office has “a regular,” but that’s the joy of a community paper.
A couple of years ago, it became apparent that he wasn’t able to get around the way he used to, and well, those frequent visits became infrequent. It just wasn’t the same — the place sort of lost its brightness.
So then I took to calling him and meeting him at his office whenever we needed a new batch of photos. I’d peruse the files and grab what looked interesting. He always had a suggestion for a great new photo he found. I rarely had the heart to tell him we already ran that photo a dozen times. So, I took it and maybe printed it, maybe not.
Getting used to him being gone has not been easy. But I know where he is now, and he’s bringing that infectious smile to the rest of the saints, probably over coffee. Oh, and without that cane.
He’s one man I’ll think of often. I only hope that when it’s my turn to face eternity, I will have left a similar mark on the community.
So long, Quent. I’ll see you there.
