TheBanyanTree: Two Days; Two Funerals

[tobie at shpilchas.net]

Thank you Dale. Oh so good to hear from you and to read the responses.

	This last year has had far too many funerals. My mother passed away in October of 2020 and my sister passed away in the beginning of August, missed her 76th birthday by 11 days. She was born on VJ day. There was rioting in the streets while my mother watched from the window at Mount Zion Hospital in San Francisco. Those rioters knew something about my sister.

	There was no funeral, no memorial. Cremation can create an anonymity that adds to the grieving. When I go, put me in a plain box and return me to the earth. I want to contribute to growing plants and flowers. Then nobody need come visit me to slap a swatch of plastic posies on the site.  My mother’s one year yahrzeit will come up on October 24th, but I’ve not even heard any plans about the words to be put on the gravestone. No one is speaking to anyone. The family got greedy after her death. I’ve heard that happens a lot. Made me want to collect stories about the way families explode after the matriarch and patriarch pass and there is an inheritance to fight over. I even have a title for the book:  Where There’s a Will.  

	Dale, your stories were captivating, sad and funny both. Write on.

Tobie

> On Sep 4, 2021, at 6:30 PM, dale.m.parish--- via TheBanyanTree <thebanyantree at lists.remsset.com> wrote:
> 
> Two Days; Two Funerals
> 
> 
> 
> FRIDAY, at Bobby's graveside service, after almost everyone had told a story
> 
> about the old cowboy, his horses, his grandkids, and his roping, Joe asked
> if
> 
> anyone else had something to say.  
> 
> 
> 
> I asked, "What's the significance of the roadrunner on the stone," referring
> 
> to the carved roadrunner on the headstone between Bobby's name and date of
> 
> birth and the name and date of birth of his wife, who preceded him some
> years.
> 
> 
> 
> Joe snickered.  "You know about twelve-ons and twelve-offs.  For the rest of
> 
> you, Mama worked them at the hospital, where they'd work a few days, a day
> 
> off, then a few nights, and a few nights off, then towards the end of the
> 
> month, they'd have eight days and nights off.  Bobby got his shift at the
> 
> plant to coincide with Mama's so they'd both have eight days off together.
> 
> They bought a Toyota Landcruiser, a cook stove, and two six foot six
> sleeping
> 
> bags that would zip together, and put in an ice chest and a sack of
> firewood.
> 
> When they had both finished their last night shift before their eight days
> 
> off, they'd meet at 05:30 when they got off, drive up to the lake and cook
> 
> breakfast over a fire and watch the sun come up.  Then, they'd do the dishes
> 
> and load up in the Toyota and head out.  Carlsbad, Colorado, the panhandle,
> 
> Arkansas, Florida, didn't matter-- they'd be gone the whole eight days
> 
> somewhere, running the roads and sleeping in the back of the Toyota.  When I
> 
> got mine, I had to buy an air mattress, but not them.  That's why the road
> 
> runner on their stone."
> 
> 
> 
> Joe looked at Cindy for a minute, and then said, "I'm going to tell another
> 
> story about Bobby.  You don't ride a stud horse in a trail ride.  You just
> 
> don't.  But Bobby's Morgan horse stud, he let YOU ride in the Dogwood
> 
> Festival Parade.  Nobody else but you and Bobby ever rode that horse-- he
> 
> trusted you with that horse, but nobody else.  Ever."  
> 
> 
> 
> I knew the horse-- Bobby had worked for us as ranch manager when I was a
> kid.
> 
> When we'd had trouble with PWRs-- Piney Wood Rooters-- wild hogs tearing up
> 
> the pastures, Bobby had brought that stud and his hog dogs down for a hog
> 
> hunt.  My horse would never allow anyone to shoot off him-- if you got on
> him
> 
> with a pistol or a rifle, when he heard the first click of a gun being
> cocked,
> 
> he started crow hopping, and if you did fire a shot, you were in for a
> rodeo.
> 
> Not Bobby's horse.  He had an long hex barrel 32-20 pump that I'd seen Bobby
> 
> stick the barrel right over that stud's head and shoot a hog, and that stud
> 
> never quivered-- was still for a second shot.  Enviable.
> 
> 
> 
> SATURDAY
> 
> I don't know much about Episcopalians, and my hearing is such that I don't
> 
> understand much of what is said when the priests are all wearing masks, but
> I
> 
> stood up and sat down with the rest of them.  After the service, there
> seemed
> 
> to be a division to the exit-- many were escorted out down front, but it
> 
> seemed that was the younger contingent-- those of us younger than 80 were
> 
> going out front, and the older congregation members were going out the back.
> 
> I looked at Cindy with a quizzical look, and we decided that we'd go out
> 
> front.  Turns out we were going outside to some kind of outdoor vestibule
> 
> where the immediate family gathered, and the rest of us stood out in the
> 
> church yard under the live oaks for shade.  I couldn't hear what was being
> 
> said by the priests, but then a guy pulled out his guitar case and the
> priests
> 
> exited the enclosure and a lady pulled out some sheet music and encouraged
> 
> everyone to get in the shade and gather round.  Seems the deceased had a
> sense
> 
> of humor, and had requested these offspring to lead the mourners in singing
> 
> three specific songs.  I was surprised when I heard the first chords to "It
> 
> Wasn't God Who Made Honkey Tonk Angels," but when the vocalist leading us
> 
> broke into those words, I had to sing along.  Through all the verses.  The
> 
> next one was "Drop Kick Me Jesus, Through The Goal Posts Of Life," followed
> by
> 
> "Rock Of Ages." 
> 
> 
> 
> Then we all went upstairs to the fellowship hall for punch and cookies,
> where
> 
> two Airmen performed the flag ceremony, reverently unfolding and presenting
> 
> the colors, then just as reverently refolding the flag and presenting it to
> 
> the oldest son.  Brings tears to my eyes every time.  My oldest son had that
> 
> duty for the last six months of his enlistment, attending veteran's funerals
> 
> in a two hours drive radius from Fort Polk.  I had PNOKers duty when I was
> on
> 
> active duty-- Primary Next Of Kin notification.  I'd get a call at 05:00 in
> 
> the morning advising me to head out to the plant and get my orders to locate
> a
> 
> survivor, which would often have to be tracked down with help of the sheriff
> 
> or other law enforcement, to deliver the short spiel, "Maam, the Secretary
> of
> 
> Defense regrets to inform you of the death of your husband/son/grandson,
> 
> etc...." and then inform the survivor that a Survival Assistance Officer
> would
> 
> be contacting them for arrangements.  During the Viet Nam War, those came
> too
> 
> often.  
> 
> 
> 
> But these were the first two funerals we've been to recently that weren't
> 
> COVID victims.  Both had led a long and fruitful life.  The kind I'd rather
> go
> 
> to.  Week before last was the brother of a friend who had refused to get
> 
> vaccinated and died of COVID at 48.  Sad.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> --
> 
> Dale M. Parish                                   For All Of Mankind'S
> Supposed Accomplishments,
> 
> 628 Parish RD                                    Our Continued Existence Is
> Dependent Upon 20
> 
> Orange TX 77632-0264                    Centimeters Of Topsoil And The Fact
> That It Rains.
> 
> <mailto:Dale.M.Parish at gmail.com> Dale.M.Parish at gmail.com
> --Toilet Stall Wall
> 
> 409-790-2352
> 
> 
> 
> 
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If you want to know someone, pay attention to the way they roast their marshmallows

THS


Tobie Shapiro
mailto:tobie at shpilchas.net <mailto:tobie at shpilchas.net>