Marty Ravellette never held public office. He never marched at the head of great crowds, never moved the masses through literature or art or music. He wasn't a business leader or a professor or a preacher. He was a landscaper; he mowed lawns, planted shrubs, cut down trees.

Yet few people in our community have made more of an impression than Ravellette, who died last week in an automobile accident.

Ravellette was born without arms. You might imagine that would limit what you can do in the world.

You'd be wrong. Ravellette never let what many would call a disability -- he didn't like that term -- slow him down in the least. He made national news in 1998 when punched through the window of a burning van with his foot to rescue the woman inside. But around here we admired him as much for the matter-of-fact way he went through the daily business of living his life. He could do more with his feet than many of us can do with our hands.

He learned self-reliance early on -- when he was a baby, the nurses at the orphanage where he grew up didn't feed him a bottle; they placed it between his feet so he would learn to feed himself.

The orphanage, he said, taught him to regard himself as no different than anyone else. He neither expected special treatment nor tolerated discriminatory treatment.

Ravellette was initially a reluctant advocate; after the burning van incident attracted national attention, his inclination was to spurn the publicity. His wife persuaded him that the situation presented an opportunity.

He saw the wisdom in that, and he began speaking to classes and groups. In his talks, as in his life, he demonstrated certain simple but profound principles: Accept those who seem different. Refuse to limit yourself. See opportunities, not obstacles. "God has given every one of us a gift," he would tell them. "My gift is that I was born with no arms."

We'll miss you, Marty.