It’s strange to think I found inspiration at a wake, but that’s what happened.

One of the very first feature stories I wrote for this newspaper years ago was on Milt and Lil Polansky. We all lived in Pecan Grove, and I’d passed their house numerous times.

What caught my eye was the hundreds of baseball caps hanging from the inside roof of their garage. They were arranged in neat rows, and I thought the collection would make a nice story.

When I interviewed Milt and Lil, however, I found they were much more than a collection of hats.

Milt, with his ever-present pipe, was a highly decorated World War II veteran who flew numerous missions over Germany.

Lil, with her twinkling smile, was a stay-at-home grandmother, but her contributions as an untiring volunteer to her church and the community were legendary.

More than their generosity to their community and this country were their gracious hearts and the joy they spread through their family.

When I interviewed them, they told me about their son, Jeffrey, who’d been lost at sea. The pain was still evident years later, but they turned their grief into an appreciation for family and life.

In my naiveté, I neglected to double check the facts with Milt and Lil, and I got Jeffrey’s name wrong in the printed story. I felt awful and was beating myself up pretty bad about the mistake, but Milt and Lil were more than understanding – they consoled me.

It was years before I could look them in the face, but they never held that huge mistake against me. We became friends and I often sought them out after Mass at Sacred Heart Catholic Church where they were long-time parishioners.

A division in the parish pitted member against member, and I found myself on the same side as Milt and Lil. That’s when I knew I was doing the right thing because Milt and Lil always took the high road.

Years passed, and I kept up with the Polanskys through photos in the paper or through friends. Sadly Milt passed away in July, and Lil followed him last week.

At her wake, I reconnected with their son, Roger, his wife, Ellen and their sons, Stephen and Jake. Stephen and my youngest son had been in Cub Scouts together, and it was a joy to meet Stephen’s infant son, Lil’s first great-grandchild.

In catching up with what our sons have been up to the past few years, Ellen told me Jake was working in Louisiana as part of a national outreach program to teach in struggling schools. Being from Louisiana, I was curious as to where he was located, so she called Jake over.

He was teaching at East Feliciana High School and living in Zachary, La. My brother, sister-in-law and my mom all live in Zachary, and we laughed about the old saying:  it’s a small world.

I made sure to get Jake’s phone number and I passed it on to my brother, Joey. Jake in turn has Joey’s phone number and I assured Jake my mom would be more than happy to make him a home-cooked meal since he’s a bachelor.

Jake’s teaching at a low-income school to give back to society, and I know he learned that lesson from his grandparents and his parents.

Instead of leaving the wake sad, I left uplifted because the legacy of love, humbleness, generosity and kindness Lil and Milt created in their lives was definitely evident in their children, grandchildren and, one day I’m sure, their great-grandchildren.

The world is a better place because of the Polansky family and I’m inspired to live a better life because of them. Thank you, Milt and Lil, for letting me into your home and your hearts all those many years ago.

I’m the better for knowing you.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.