For the past 50 years, Dennis Holland has been a civil servant, a man of the people. Drafted by Lyndon Johnson, he spent time in the U.S. Army, then returned back home to Chattanooga to begin his life's work with the U.S. Postal Service.
Since 1966, Holland has been delivering Chattanooga's mail.
"Here," he said. "Let me give you my card."
It lists his home number, cell, fax and home address. He leaves them in mailboxes and hands them out to residents and homeowners who then call Holland if they've got a question about their mail. Or to tell him they'll be out of town. Or if they forgot to put something in the mailbox. (Lots of times, he'll turn around.)
He knows them by name. They call him on vacation. At home. On weekends.
There's a good chance that if you walked into any home in Mountain Shadows -- Holland's current route -- you could find a copy of Holland's card ("Mailman in the Shadows" it says) taped to the fridge, penciled on the inside of the phone book or tucked in a close-by desk drawer.
For Holland, it's part of the job.
"Keeping customers happy," he said.
Many of those customers are going to be awfully upset over this next sentence.
Holland is retiring.
"I'll be 72 on Easter Sunday," he said. "And Good Friday is my last day."
This morning, the U.S. Postal Service is honoring Holland for his 50 years of service. The Chattanooga postmaster will present him with a letter signed by the U.S. postmaster general, along with a service pin for 50 years.
"I love this job," he said.
His first route was in Highland Park. Then, onto East Ridge and Mission Oaks. In 1993, he started delivering to Mountain Shadows. He's delivered in the heat, sleet, snow and cats-and-dogs-rain and never once asked for a desk job. ("I don't want to be stuck in a building all day long," he said.)
He's been side-swiped on busy roads.
"Knocked the mirrors off," he said.
Been bitten by dogs.
"Chihuahuas," he said. "They sneak up behind you. They get me on the ankle."
In an age of Look-at-Me selfie-selfishness, Holland has put on the same standard blue uniform for five decades.
In an age of restlessness -- the average American switches jobs every four years or so -- Holland embodies a rock-steady commitment.
In an age of rudeness, Holland is impeccably polite. When I visited him at the Eastgate Post Office, he kept calling me "sir."
"I have to," he said. "My daddy would whip me."
He's still alive?
"He's 96," said Holland, who's got kids and grandkids of his own.
Holland grew up in Chattanooga, graduated Central High and went to college thinking he'd become a civil engineer.
"To build bridges," he said.
In a way, he's done just that.
Holland figures that he handles some 2,500 pieces of mail each day: magazines, coupons, letters, bills, parcels, packages, you name it, he delivers it.
Since 1966, Holland has worked, by my count, 11,760 days. (Five days a week, 48 weeks a year.)
That adds up to this golly-whopper: In his career, Holland has delivered 29,400,000 pieces of mail.
That's 29 million slices of life -- wedding invitations, birth announcements, bills, draft cards, funeral notices, love letters, Christmas gifts and vacation postcards. Holland has been the middle-man bridge between long-lost lovers, homesick kids, war-torn soldiers and please-send-money college students.
In a way, he delivers more than just mail. For the past 50 years, Holland has delivered our lives.
What a career. What an act of service.
Call it Dennis Holland's opus.
Contact David Cook at dcook@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6329. Follow him on Facebook and Twitter at DavidCookTFP.