Hard work applies, inside and outside the church

    John G. Bruno never met another man like his father, John R. Bruno. For 25 years, the elder Bruno parked his vegetable truck just outside of Immaculate Conception Church on Baronne Street and made a living by selling apples and bananas to business executives and secretaries on their lunch breaks.
    Bruno’s dad, an usher for more than 30 years at St. Francis Xavier Church on Metairie Road, lived until he was 98. He was still cutting his own grass until three weeks before he died.
    “I’m proud of where I come from,” said Bruno, who at 76 runs a small exterminating business and has been a salt-of-the-earth figure at St. Louis Cathedral, where he and his wife Doris have served as ushers for the last 20 years.
    Life is an opportunity. John’s dad taught him that. The elder Bruno had been dealt some pretty serious cards as a child. Both of his parents were killed in a train wreck, and he was reared in a Memphis orphanage. So much for a silver spoon.
    One day the elder Bruno drove his vegetable truck downtown so that he could run in to pay a Sears bill. He parked his truck in a freight zone directly in front of Pailet and Penedo jewelers, cater-corner from Sears.
    “He paid his Sears bill, and when he came back, he had all these people standing in front of his truck looking to buy his produce,” Bruno said. “He went directly to City Hall and got a permit to sell. He was thrilled because he didn’t have to go house-to-house anymore. So the ladies would come down for lunch looking for an apple or an orange or a banana. He’d tell them, ‘Bananas are good potassium, and they’d be good for you.’ They’d always tell him they wanted a bag. And he’d say, ‘You gotta buy two bananas to get a bag.’”
    The elder Bruno was so well-liked by Mr. Pailet for his hard-working attitude that he gave him his own gift of fruit one day: a 24-karat gold charm in the shape of miniature bananas.
    The banana didn’t fall far from the tree. Two decades ago, John and Doris were attending Mass at St. Louis Cathedral, and one of Doris’ friends, who was an usher, was taking a cruise and needed a fill-in. John immediately volunteered.
    “I’ve been there ever since,” John said. “I went there the following week, and I enjoyed it so much, I just kept on going.”
    Showing up week after week – with a wide smile – is the legacy John received from his dad. There are so many people who walk through the cathedral’s front doors every Sunday, and they are the most important people in the world, especially when they carry their pain, their cross, into a pew.
    Doris has developed a sixth sense about which people need help.
    “There’s a young man who comes to church every once in awhile, and I’ve been praying for him,” Doris said. “He can’t be more than 20 years old. His eyes are just glazed over. He’ll just sit there. The deacons will talk to him and John will talk to him, but it’s not penetrating. I told him, ‘I’m sure you have a mother somewhere, and I’m sure she’s worried about you. Remember, your mother loves you and God loves you.’ All you can do is just pray that something you say pierces through – that he knows he’s worthy of God’s love.”
    Sometimes, adults can do the darnedest things. Just before the 11 a.m. Mass one Sunday, a woman with a brown grocery bag sat down in a front pew near the Blessed Mother altar on the left side. She pulled out luncheon meat and bread and opened a mayonnaise jar for her sandwich.
    “Ma’am, you just can’t do that,” John told her. “You’re not praying, you’re eating.”
    “Well, I’m ready to eat,” she replied.
    After a few minutes – before the entrance song – she took her sandwich and left.
    Ushers also have to handle medical emergencies. One time, a man went into diabetic shock and fell between the pew and the kneeler. John and other ushers rushed over, and John began feeling for the man’s pulse, looking at his watch.
    “I’m not a medic – don’t get me wrong,” John said. “I just wanted to see how low his pulse rate was. The poor lady who was with him comes up and tells me, ‘God bless you, at least I have a doctor who’s helping.’ I said, ‘No, Ma’am, I’m not a doctor, I’m an usher. And, in fact, I’m an exterminator.’ Thank God it all worked out. He was low on sugar.”
    Both Doris and John have had serious medical issues to attend to over the last three years, but they have rarely missed a Sunday. Their faith is filled with good potassium.
    “It’s worried both of us and the whole family is worried, but we’ve had so much support and prayers from people,” John said. “We don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but we have enough faith. This work has brought me closer to God. I’ve learned to see how much people appreciate a smile – just a smile.”
    After Mass, John will stand next to the archbishop and deacons as people file out of the cathedral. Sometimes, they will go down the line and shake hands.
    “I think to myself, ‘What are they shaking my hand for?’” John says.
    A few even take out a rosary and ask John to bless it.
    “I can’t bless anything,” he said.
    His dad would say he’s wrong.
    Peter Finney Jr. can be reached at pfinney@clarionherald.org.