Recently, a good friend and I had gone searching for an old “acquaintance.”
“Do you think he’s still there? Wouldn't that be something?” my friend wondered.
His name was Derf. Actually, it was Fred. But he appeared to enjoy playing tricks, liking the idea of going through life backwards, it seemed.
Derf was a clerk at a rather rundown old Shell gas station food mart in rural Illinois. We met him very briefly in July of 2024. And now, making a similar trip, we ducked inside to see if Derf was still smiling at the world.
“Never heard of the guy,” the clerk behind the counter said, realizing the joke of the twisted-around name. “I just started working here a month ago.”
“Well, if you see Derf or run into someone with that name, tell him two guys on a road trip stopped to say hello.”
Oh, Derf. Where have you gone?
Below is the essay I originally wrote about this brief but memorable encounter two years ago. The most recent trip made me think again about Derf, his smile, and the tiny impact he made on the world.
CELEBRATING LIFE AT A GAS STATION FOOD MART
(First published in July 2024)
A buddy and I were recently traveling north on IL-84 along the Mississippi River. It was a golden early evening. The sun was setting over the water, producing a velvety orange glow just above the riverbank trees. We were in good moods after a day of golf and good conversation as we headed toward Galena, Illinois.
Both of us were thirsty but this stretch of the road was populated only by small farms and tiny towns where the businesses had already closed for the day. At a lonely crossroads, we spotted a Shell station with a food mart attached. We grabbed a small packet of snickerdoodle cookies, a diet Coke, and a vitamin water and placed it all on the counter.
“Well, how you all doin’ tonight?” the clerk said with confidence and an overwhelming sense of urgency. He was about thirty-five years old, wore an English-style newsboy cap, and a big smile. Not to mention a black eye patch over his left eye, like a pirate. “It’s a great night for some snacks, right?”
“You’re in a very good mood,” my buddy said.
“You bet I am. It’s just a great night. Always is, you know. I love my job.”
Most clerks in lonely gas stations appear to be beaten down by the world, uninterested, uninspired, borderline depressed.
“If I were any happier,” he said, “I’d be illegal.” He flashed another smile.
“That’s great,” I said. “Why do you think that is?” I asked as he scanned our purchases.
“Why not? I’m here helping you. It’s a beautiful sunset. What could be better?”
My buddy and I couldn’t help smiling.
“That’s an interesting name you have there,” my buddy said, glancing at his name tag. “Is that . . . Derf? D-E-R-F. How does one get a name like that?”
“Ah, I just printed it out backward,” he laughed. For fun, for a conversation starter, for his own amusement, it seemed. “I’m really Fred,” he said, almost winking.
He laid out a plastic bag on the counter and my buddy began to put our items inside.
“Hey, come on, man. That’s my job,” Derf chortled. “You’re gonna take away my duties here.” He was playful and animated.
“You are one happy guy, Derf,” my buddy said.
“Gotta be, right? I appreciate you. You have a fantastic night, now. Drive safe out there.”
On the way back to the car, my buddy and I were still smiling. We looked at each other and I wondered aloud, “Wasn’t that delightful? Not what you usually get in a lonely gas station food mart on a Saturday night.”
“Do you get the sense, maybe, that old Derf back there doesn’t really need that eye patch?” my buddy mused. “He’s the kind of guy that might just do it for show. Like, if you asked him, ‘What happened to your eye?’ he’d pull it off and start laughing.”
The perfectly good eye of a prankster.
Over the next day or two, Derf frequently returned to our minds. And over recent days I’ve thought even more about Derf and how he was showing us the way, especially as we get older and the days that remain are fewer than the ones in our past. How does one stay on the positive side of life, the upside of the world?
For Derf, you see, happiness appeared to have nothing to do with his lot in life, his salary, his work hours, or even his name. Happiness was about how he moved in the world. Take what it offers you and embrace it. Accept that happiness is a work in progress and the first job is to believe you can and will be happy, that you can be joyous even if you’re making minimum wage at a Shell station in the middle of nowhere.
“There is no path to happiness; happiness is the path.” —Buddha
Some might say that happiness is unattainable. That it’s a ghost we chase. I’d like to think happiness is not a destination but a way of being. And that once you know and practice this, you can be like Derf. You can offer happiness to all you encounter.
I would like to think that Derf is always this way, but I’m sure he, too, has had the occasional off day where he struggles to keep up the good fight. Still, think about what he did for my buddy and me. How he brightened a moment for us, how he remained with us for hours and days, how his unexpected infectious spirit transformed us, even in the smallest of ways.
Wherever you are tonight, Derf, thank you. I hope you remain as happy as ever, even if it’s illegal.
David W. Berner is the author of several books of award-winning fiction and memoir. His latest poetry collection, Garden Tools is available from Finishing Line Press. He is the Poet Laureate of the Village of Clarendon Hills, Illinois and his novella, American Moon will be published by Regal House Publishing on September 15, 2026 and is currently available for pre-order.
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Awwww. This is wonderful. We need more Derfs in life!
How I love stories like this, David! Joyous, short, a quick read with depth...the kind of tale that immediately gets you thinking how many, if any Derfs you've met along life's roads. In fact, this reminded me of the many times people saw me as a Derf, always smiling, always offering words of cheer or optimism on dreary days... trying to help others look at what had recently upset them as a way to look for an opporunity instead of as a defeat.
And then, as a sobering afterthought on a story like this, I find myself wondering where and when did my own derfy disposition begin vanishing and why it's so hard nowadays to once again be an AGIV...😉