This weekend I, along with 600 or so others, attended the funeral of Jim Daloisi. Jim was not a business leader nor a political figure in our community, and he had only a handful in his extended family. Jim was our church custodian. This past summer, at the age of 47, Jim received a diagnosis of stage 4 lymphoma. He fought the battle hard, but lost the fight last week.

Not only was Jim a member of the church staff, he was an active member of the congregation. For years, he’d lent his deep bass voice to the choir, and to gospel quartets. And every year, he’d go to New York City’s Hell’s Kitchen to minister to people who were homeless, and those with HIV/AIDS.

As was noted by the minister who spoke at Jim’s service, no one at the funeral was there out of a sense of duty, or because they were simply members of the church, but because they had, in some direct way, been touched by this humble man of goodwill. That’s why I was there.

Jim would have deserved to be called an Extra Miler solely on the basis of how he performed the job he was paid to do. He was always MOOving Fast. His standard was excellence. He consistently went above and beyond requirements in his work.

But it was what he did quietly, on his own time, to help others, that earned him the respect shown by the full pews at his funeral. One example of what was routine for Jim: One Sunday a single mother happened to mention, in a group, that her lawn mower had broken down, mid-mow, the day before. Jim didn’t say anything, but he showed up that afternoon, mowed her lawn, and fixed her mower.

Hats off to Jim Daloisi. A perfect picture of an Extra Miler.