ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1995, Roanoke Times
DATE: Tuesday, December 26, 1995 TAG: 9512270039
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BETH MACY
Maybe it's the driver who unexpectedly allows you to merge.
Maybe it's the fact that your husband made a surprise trip to the Uni-Mart at 6 a.m. - just so you'd have Half-n-Half for your morning coffee.
And maybe, as it is for so many people passing by Hardee's on Peters Creek Road every morning, it's William Faison and his nonstop wave.
There he is, two hours before his dishwashing shift, standing at the corner of Peters Creek and Cove Road. First you see the smile - wide as a Sunday morning and just as bright.
Then you see the wave - greeting you as you drive down the hill, shepherding you around the corner and continuing until you pass out of sight and into your day.
``It's a wonderful little thing to have happen every morning,'' says Susan Dixon, a telephone consultant for Bell Atlantic. ``I get about five minutes down the road and realize I'm still smiling because he's made my day.''
Dixon, who drives to work from her home in Southwest Roanoke, discovered William when she discovered the Peters Creek shortcut a few years ago. Ever since, she's refused to veer from the course - or the warm familiarity of William's wave.
One of her co-workers, Norma Wirt, gets her coffee at Hardee's every morning - because she, too, likes to start the day with William's smile.
``The world is not typically full of smiling people,'' Dixon says. ``It's just so nice to have that one little pause.''
On a recent rainy morning, William stood there in his blue coat with his hood up and the string pulled tight. Between waves, he fiddled with a red rubber band and talked about his morning ritual.
He walks down the hill from his apartment, arriving an hour to two hours before his Hardee's shift begins. Then, with the seriousness of a child with building blocks, he stands at his corner and waves to everyone who passes.
``That's my job,'' the 27-year-old says. ``I wave to people, and most of them, if they're not too busy, wave back.''
When a school bus stops at the light, his hand greets each and every child - for the duration of the red light. Their hands shoot up to return the wave, then the driver joins in.
Some people beep their horns, others just wave. Some people are too busy planning their teeth-grinding day to smile or return the wave. William's not fazed by their indifference.
``Even on his days off, he's here waving,'' says his manager, Trish O'Connor.
During his official work shift, he washes dishes and takes out the trash. He unloads supply trucks and cleans up the restaurant outside and in. Whenever his work takes him outdoors, he waves.
``He is very thorough and concerned about the quality of his work,'' says Shelby Ryan, the job coach who works with him through Arc-Supported Employment Services, an agency that helps mentally disabled people find work and then trains them on the job. Ryan checks in weekly on William to make sure there are no problems at work and to help explain new duties as they arise.
``His muscles are big from scrubbing the biscuit pans,'' Ryan says. ``He scrubs those pans till there's not one piece of anything on them.
``He loves his job.''
A 1987 William Fleming High School graduate, William has worked at Hardee's since 1988. He lives with his mom and his stepfather, and says he has no plans to change his routine.
``I'm happy with what I do,'' he says, pouring syrup onto the Hardee's pancakes he eats for breakfast every other day. (On alternate days, he eats cereal at home.)
``I like making people's day.''
For a long time, Dixon, the Bell Atlantic worker, wanted to give William something to return the morning favors. Once she tried offering him money. ``But he quickly said, `no-no-no.' And I felt so bad, so embarrassed that I'd done such a thing.''
She's since learned to savor her morning ritual the way one savors a fresh pot of coffee made by somebody else and Half-n-Half in the fridge.
She's learned to accept William's wave as one of those rare little gifts that leave you smiling, wide as a Sunday morning and just as bright.
She's learned that a true gesture of good will asks for nothing, not even a wave, in return.
LENGTH: Medium: 81 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: Wayne Deel. William Faison waves to passerby on Petersby CNBCreek Road. color.