funeral

Andrew and Molly Part 27

Late in the afternoon, Aggie walked to Bartles’ grave. Molly offered to go with her, but she wanted time alone.

Not ready to leave yet, the reverend lingered over tea. Having been raised Catholic, Molly had not attended the services of the Anglican Church. Though she’d met Reverend Bennett through her close association with the Bartles she’d never considered him her spiritual advisor, nor felt any particular need of an advisor. Aggie, in particular, was devout, and made it no secret that Molly should be attending services, especially for the sake of the children’s tender souls.

While Molly packed her things to hurry home to her children, Reverend Bennett asked to speak to her on a church matter. “Reverend Bennett, I am Catholic. My children were baptized in the Anglican faith because at their father’s request.”

“I know, but am concerned about the soul of the little one in your house brought back from the Indians. He needs baptizing.” Reverend Bennett pronounced.

“I suppose he does,” Molly agreed. “But he’s only been here a few days. I’m hoping someone comes forward once word gets around. Most assuredly his family will want him baptized in their faith.”

“I know a bit of your background.” said Reverend Bennett. Molly bristled at his tone. “ I understand Andrew brought this child with him when he escaped. Did he know who the child’s family might be?”

Turning to leave, Molly replied curtly. “I have no idea. You’d best speak to Andrew.”

Andrew and Molly Part 26

Rosemarie tiptoed in at dawn bringing the women boiled eggs, corn porridge and tea. She found them nodding at Bartles’s bedside. His noisy breathing had stopped. He was dead. Rosemarie sat her basket on the table, gently touched Molly’s shoulder, and tiptoed out.

Molly took Aggie’s hand, waking her to her loss. “He’s gone to God.”

Aggie sighed stoically. “What will I do without him?”

Molly returned. “What will we do without him? He knows everything about our places.”

As the women prepared the body for burial, they heard hammering as the men built a coffin. Soon the minister arrived to offer comfort and prepare for the funeral. The neighbors brought a funeral meal that included stewed squirrel, baked chicken, ham and roast beef. The table groaned under baked yams, beans, potatoes, squash, and tomatoes. Pies and cakes were too numerous to count.

Will and Aggie Bartles were good neighbors, held in high regard. There was not a family who was not a beneficiary of their kindness. Women bustled about the kitchen tending the table and tidying up. Men spoke in hushed tones, doing whatever chores they could, including chopping wood, harness repair, and replacing shingles.

The service was simple, scripture and a eulogy. The mourners ringed around the grave on the Bartles small acreage in view of the back door of the small, neat cabin. Aggie stood stoic and unweeping as they lowered the body into the grave.

The Saddest Christmas Ever

The December after I turned six years old, I hatched a plot. I’d leave a note for Santa asking to accompany him on his rounds. I felt sure if I asked nicely, he’d wake me up and take me along. though Mother assured me it wouldn’t happen. I laboriously wrote this note.

Dear Santa,

I have been good. Can I go with you ? I hate dolls. I want a BB gun and a blue bicycle. I love you.

Linda

About bedtime, Mother said she heard the jingle bells on Santa’s sleigh. I flew to the door to try to catch Santa but didn’t catch him. Mother sent me to bed since he wouldn’t come until I went to sleep. It took me forever to go to sleep. I was disappointed to wake up in the morning and find I’d been left at home.

We knew not to go in to see if Santa had come before waking our parents. Mother dragged out the anticipation by making coffee before we went to see what Santa had brought. When we were finally allowed in, Mother pointed out a note taped to TV screen, “Linda, did you think you could catch me?”

My parents laughed but I was devastated. Not only did Santa ditch me, he thought it was funny.

When I opened my presents, I got a life-sized baby doll that could pee its diaper. I threw it down and stomped my foot, “I hate dolls. I wanted a BB gun.” I got a spat and a warning to behave myself. Mother pointed out the biggest package under the tree with my name on it. I tore into it only to find a tin tea set with a Dutch boy and girl on it. I wanted to throw a fit but knew what that would get me.

Seeing my disappointment, Mother tried to distract me. “Here open this present from Grandma.” It was the twin of the doll that had already gotten me in trouble. My sister got a blue bicycle. I found out later that day my two boy cousins my age got BB guns.

The only thing that saved my Christmas was finding a big red rocking horse behind the tree. I loved it.

The only time I ever played with those accursed dolls was when my cousin Sue and I treated them to a funeral the next summer. My mother was a slow learner. I got a doll the next two Christmases as well.

Bizarre Funeral Happenings from Buzzfeed

1. The fire at the cemetery “My great-grandmother died when she was 103 years old, when I was eight. In the middle of the ceremony, my grandmother (daughter of the deceased) leaned on the grave where a few candles were burning. Then her hair started to catch on fire, and everyone started running around trying to put it out. They even dropped the casket halfway there.” —Karine Dal Piva Menoncin

2. The lost earring

“My aunt lost an earring at a funeral, and the next day, another person she knew died, and she had to go back to the same cemetery. So, she left the wake, asked permission from the family that was in the area where she had lost the earring, and began to look for it while everyone was praying. And, of course, she ended up finding it!” —Anonymous

3. The borrowed clothes

“My friend got an urgent call to go to her mother-in-law’s funeral. When she got there, she saw something that shocked her so much that people started asking her what was going on. They were going to bury her mother-in-law with an outfit of hers that she loved, and that she had given the outfit to her grandmother, who had already died. It was eating her up inside, but she didn’t make a sound. Now she’s no longer married to the same guy.” —Ezequiel Apenas

4. The, uh, allergy attack

“My sister and I went to a funeral, and since my sister is a total clown, she startd making me laugh. You know the feeling when you start laughing a bit and it gets even worse? To cover it up, I started to cough. Then, my sister also started to laugh a lot, and to cover it up, she also started coughing. So both of us were coughing like crazy and my dad tried to make an excuse for it, saying: ‘They’re allergic to flowers… And those flowers have a pretty strong smell, right?’ Then all the old women started coughing too, until they began taking the flowers out of the room. The people started to quietly leave, and then we burst out laughing like we never had before in our lives.” —Aline Ýngratis

5. The robbery

“Once, some people tried to rob me at my great-grandmother’s funeral! I was in the cafeteria of the funeral home with some other family members, waiting to get some chicken drumsticks, with my phone in my jacket pocket. My cousin, who was there too, noticed that the guy next to me was slowly pulling the phone out, and I didn’t notice anything since I was going through a difficult moment and also really hungry. Finally, my cousin ran up and was on top of the guy, and he said he was sorry. Then he came over to his family, who was mourning in the room next to us, and his sister shouted, ‘YOU CAN’T EVEN FORGIVE PEOPLE AT OUR FATHER’S FUNERAL?” —Alice Stippe Rodrigues

6. The miniskirt

“At my great-grandma’s funeral, one of her friends, who was 70 years old and had a rather provocative sense style (I loved it), went to say her goodbyes in a miniskirt. When she leaned down to kiss the forehead of my great-grandma in the casket, she was showing everything off to everyone sitting behind her. And it wasn’t a quick kiss. I had to get out of the chapel because I couldn’t even look at my mom’s face without laughing.” —Divina Francis

7. The game of tag

“When I was 5, a classmate from my school went to her grandfather’s funeral. She and her cousins decided to play tag around the casket. Then, she had the idea to go under the casket. And then, her cousin tagged her and she jumped up. The casket flew to one side, and her deceased grandfather to the other!” —Carolina Vieira

8. “Not me too!”

“My uncle died four years ago. When it came time to bury him, his twin brother arrived at the edge of the pit and said: ‘Oh no, my brother, someday we will find you.’ It would have been a touching scene, if only this twin brother hadn’t then tripped and almost fallen in the pit, shouting, ‘DAMMIT, NOT ME TOO!’ Nobody could hold in their laughter.” —Patricia Tolentino

9. The surprise encore act

“My mother told me a story about when my great-grandmother died and her loved ones went to her wake. At that time, people would just assume someone was dead and that was it — there would be no autopsy or anything. At the wake, it started to rain heavily, and they were in the yard. Everyone ran inside and left her body there. Suddenly, they heard a door slam and when they went to go see who it was, it was the great-grandmother, cursing everyone out for leaving her in the rain. Apparently, it was total pandemonium.” —Nataly Lima

10. The wrong funeral

“My mother-in-law arrived at the cemetery and, even before entering the funeral home’s hall, she began crying, greeting people and giving them her condolences. She cried and cried, and when she was near the casket, she saw she was crying for the wrong person. The wake for her family member was in the room next to that one. After that, she burst out laughing while standing over the casket of this unknown person, and everyone started giving her dirty looks. Once she found the right wake, she cried from laughing every time she looked at the casket, because she remembered the dead person from the room next door.” —Mayara Cardoso

11. A moment of solace

“At my grandfather’s funeral, we were at one of those cemeteries that only has plaques on the ground in the middle of the grass, and some very nice mountain views. I saw my cousin walking alone in the middle of the grass. I thought, ‘poor girl, she feels so bad, I’m going to go over to her.’ I went up to her and asked if she was okay. She said: ‘Yeah, I just came over here because I had to fart.'” —Anonymous

12. The interruption

“When my grandmother died, one of my aunts lost control when my cousin began to give a speech about the Bible, talking about how it was the path that God chose for us, to live and then to find ourselves with him, etc. My aunt kept on crying, my cousin said, ‘then, God…’ and my aunt interrupted: ‘I’M GOING TO MISS HER SO MUCH’. Then my cousin said: ‘yes, moving on…’ and my aunt: ‘OH MY GOD, I’M NEVER GOING TO SEE ALICE AGAIN.’ Then my cousin lost patience and said: ‘all right people, we’ll do the burial later, okay?'” —Alice Lima

13. The meet-cute

“The pastor who was speaking at the wake was kind of a boring guy, and my mom started laughing at him. She couldn’t stop, so she went out to get some fresh air and see what was going on. There, she found a guy who had the exact same thing happen to him, and they hadn’t seen each other inside. They started chatting, set up plans to see each other again, started going out, and that’s how I was born.” —Igor Pinheiro

14. The flag

“I don’t know if it’s wrong to laugh about this, but my friend went to a wake for her uncle, who was a huge fan of the Cruzeiro soccer team, and she saw that her mother had brought her Cruzeiro flag to put on the casket. Then, before burying him, my friend took the flag off of the casket and everyone started looking at her. Then she said to her mom: ‘I worked hard to buy this flag, I really liked my uncle, but it was really expensive.” —Giovana Lima

15. The wrong party

“At my friend’s grandfather’s wake, there was a wake being held for another elderly man in the room next to ours. But they were playing music, drinking, and the people at the church for her grandfather were horrified. Then after a while, a woman came over, entered the room and called out to the people there: ‘Hey, I loved this guy so much, he was the life of the party.’ Then everyone gave her a dirty look, because my friend’s grandfather had been an evangelical Christian all his life. The woman got the idea, looked at the casket and saw that it wasn’t the person she thought it was. Then she said in a serious tone: ‘Oh, sorry, I though this was the wake for Nelson.’ I couldn’t hold it in and started laughing.” —Alice Lima

16. The party crashers

“My grandmother and my aunt were passing by a wake, and nobody in the family was crying for the deceased. They felt bad for the deceased and went there to cry for someone whom they had never seen in their lives. And the result was that the family of the dead man started giving them their condolences.” —Renata Mendes

17. The wrong type of alcohol

“When my grandmother died, my family decided that she would be buried in the city where she was born. So my mother (who goes over the top with food) decided to provide a buffet and a lot of whiskey to serve at the wake, because everything was about food and drinks. When the buffet didn’t arrive, some of my grandmother’s brothers started to ask for some drinks to drown their sorrows. My cousin was desperate, and went to look in my aunt’s house for some alcoholic beverages to serve. She found an unlabeled bottle and decided to take it over to the funeral, and everybody drank it. But then when it came time for the burial, everyone started feeling really funny, and nobody knew why. My aunt spotted the bottle, now almost empty, and shouted: ‘what is my medicine for putting on my joints doing here?” It turned out that my cousin had given them rubbing alcohol.” — Julia Salles

18. The wrong party, part 2

“My friends decided to go to my grandfather’s funeral, and by some HUGE coincidence, there was another funeral of someone else with the same last name at the same cemetery. They got there after it had already begun (there were 3 of them), and so they were towards the back and they couldn’t directly see who was there. Two of them had already gotten pretty emotional, they were crying, until the third one noticed during the speech that the person speaking said: ‘she was a great mother and woman.’ So she realized that it couldn’t have been my grandfather. She looked to the side and saw my other two friends crying, and began to tuck her head into her shirt, to try to stifle her urge to burst out laughing. Then, she managed to pull the rest of them to the side, and let them know they needed to go to the right funeral. They were able to find me and caught the end of my speech. Then they told me what had happened, and even ended up laughing myself silly on the day of my own grandfather’s funeral.” —Paula Mascarenhas

19. The flower delivery

“When my great aunt Cida died, my godmother ordered her a floral wreath. Her name was Marisa. And then, with everyone gathered there crying, the man arrives with the flowers and says: ‘does anyone know where the wake for Marisa is?!’ They guy had thought that Marisa was the name of the person who died, and not the person ordering the flowers. Everyone burst out laughing!” —Marcella Marrara Ducati Assali

Memories of a Girl Lost Too Soon

The city had crept on the gracious old house making it out of place among the bustling businesses. One blistering afternoon the streets were cordoned off and the neighborhood nearly impassable. The parking lot at the funeral home was packed. Crowds of people in black pressed up to the doors unable to gain entry. Speakers broadcast sad church music. Even to a young child it was obvious this was a sad occasion.

Mother and Grandma had us play quietly indoors rather than our usual romping on the large porch. My questions about the goings on across the street were brushed off. Mother and Grandma settled at the dining table for afternoon coffee after Barbie and Billy had been put down for a nap. Determined to learn what was going on, I stretched out on the cool hardwood floors near enough to follow the conversation. With my back to the dining table, I hummed as I pretended play, then feigned sleep.

Soon enough, the low talk turned to the events across the street. It turns out, the funeral was for a sixteen-year-old girl. Her boyfriend had stabbed and mutilated her when she attempted to break off with him. In my desperation to learn more, I forgot my stealthy plan to eavesdrop quietly. I sat up and and barraged the coffee drinkers with excited questions. A scolding broke the conversation up and I learned no more.

I’ve recalled that conversation and wondered about that poor girl many times over the years. I was young enough at the time that she was no more real to me than a television program. More than sixty years later, I am thinking of that girl who will be forever sixteen.

Jolly Funeral Policy

Connie and Marilyn's Toddler PicturesAgents selling funeral policies were a fixture in the rural South.  Our budget was too tight for such luxuries, so Mother tried hard to keep us alive.  Myrtle Harper sold policies for Jolly Funeral Home and Watkins products.  She was a nosy do-gooder who carried sunshine from house to house, dispensing information about people’s financial situations

Betty Jones was three months behind on her six policies but thought she might be able to get the money from her mama, now that her daddy had drunk himself to death and Mama wasn’t stretched quite so tight. She shared health information. It’s a good thing, Bonnie Mercer bought that nice policy on her new baby.  She might need it if the baby didn’t start looking better.

She shared all kinds of social matters. Bertha Willis had another black eye Another tidbit: No wonder Phil Parker ran around with everything in a skirt.  Lucy kept a filthy house and her cooking wasn’t fit for the hogs.”

Even though Mother had repeatedly refused to purchase funeral policies,  Mother occasionally bought Watkins Vanilla or Anti-Pain Oil for her headaches, so Myrtle kept optimistically coming by every time she was in the neighborhood.  She inspected each new baby hopefully to see if it might look puny enough to tempt Mother into buying a new policy.  When Connie and Marilyn were toddlers, they sat playing in the shade of a huge oak tree as Mother and Myrtle drank tea. Myrtle launched her latest insurance campaign.  “Just look at those two little gals playing there.  If you bought a policy for them right now, I could get them both a four hundred policy for just a dollar a month.  If you wait till they’re thirteen, it would cost you at least a thousand dollars to bury them.”

Mother studied her babies thoughtfully.  “Well, I guess we’d better bury them now.  I wouldn’t want to miss out on a good deal.” Myrtle never even knew she was being strung along.

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The Children’s Guide to Funerals: Lessons from Mr. Bradley

I am reposting an old post from September 23, 2014

Mr. Bradley died!! Mr. Bradley died!!

mr_bradley

This was unbelievable! I had seen people get shot on “Gunsmoke,” but I’d never known anyone who had actually died. I knew I was supposed to cry when someone died but I couldn’t manage it. First of all, Mr. Bradley was an old grouch. He wore khaki pants and shirt and an old gray felt hat with oil stains around the hat band. He was really selfish. Continue reading →

A Hog a Day Part 19

Image courtesy of Pixabay

I’ve got to end this series, since it is the basis of my next book and I don’t want to give it away but there are so many stories I want to share.  One is about a suicide and a mean Christian.

Mrs Rivers was as old as the hills. I believe she was born that way.   Widowed more than forty years, no one ever spoke of her husband.  It was impossible for me to imagine anyone could have ever wanted to marry her, as unpleasant as she appeared.  Still living in the house where  she raised her children, her son had built a house on her lot. My mother often remarked she’d be a trial as a mother-in-law as we drove  by and saw her dressed in a dark, long-sleeved dress and sun bonnet working her garden with a push plow. I’m sure she refused her son’s offer to plow her garden, because no one would have expected someone that old to plow.

Old Lady Rivers, as she was known, was a practicing Pentecostal, though she attended the Baptist Church just across the road from her house and interfered with its runnings as much as she was able.  While she didn’t have a vote, she did have opinions and battered the faithful with them as often as possible.  She was the first at services, wakes, and funerals, eager to share “how they took it” and why.  Never losing track of when a marriage was made, she was the first to predict should a baby appear to be coming “too soon.”

She was a skilled craftsman of gossip, eager to bear bad news or scandal. In the days before telephones were common in our rural community, it could be a challenge to get messages to people in a timely manner.   One sad day, a poor old gentlemen shot himself in the head out by his mailbox. His panicked wife called her son from next door for help.  The son covered his father with a sheet, but left the body lying awaiting the sheriff. A neighbor hurried to a local store to call the school principal to intercept his daughter, Alice Fay,  a school bus driver, before she left school with a bus load of children.  Sadly, they missed her by about fifteen minutes.  The principal summoned the coach and together, they hurried to catch up, hoping to spare her happening up on the grisly scene at her parent’s home, not realizing a couple of her stops had been eliminated.  He was behind her at every stop.

Old Lady Rivers heard the news before the bus was due.  She waited on the porch and puffed her way out to flag Alice Faye’s bus down.  The principal skidded to a stop behind the bus just as Alice Fay opened the bus door to see what the excited old lady wanted, Mrs. Rivers propped herself on her cane and announced, “Alice Faye, yore daddy done shot hisself in the head! God help him, he’s going to Hell for shore!”

Alice Faye reacted, as you might expect, erupting into hysterical tears as the principal and coach rushed up to comfort her and restore order to the traumatized children, three of whom were Alice Faye’s.  It was a horrendous situation.  The principal drove Alice Faye and her children home, and the coach finished the bus route on that awful day.  It was a shocking announcement of tragedy Alice Faye and her children could have been spared.

Kathleen Carries On Part 9 or It Couldn’t Be Helped

“It could’t be helped” Mother employed this phrase to excuse herself whenever she messed up. Since she was a ditz and a world-class procrastinator, it came in really handy. In her defense, with five children and a demanding husband, she always had too many things on her list.

On the most memorable occasion, my brother had been gifted a handsome suit. The whole family was pleased for him. The trousers were unhemmed, as was common at that time. They hung in his closet awaiting Mother’s attention for several days. Alas, an elderly neighbor died and Bill was asked to serve as pallbearer. The funeral was to be the next day. The new suit would be put into service.

“Mother, I need my new suit for Granny’s funeral. Can you hem it?” he asked.

“Okay, but I’ll need you to try it on so I can measure it. We’ll get it after a while.” They both moved on to other things. The lonely suit hung in the closet some more while they went about their business.

Daddy announced he and Mother were to visit with the bereaved that evening. They didn’t get home till after ten.

Bill was in a panic about his trousers. “Mother, you’ve got to hem my suit! The funeral is at two tomorrow!”

“There’s plenty of time in the morning. I’ll get it then.” She was exhausted.

Not surprisingly, the house was bedlam the next morning. Finally, about ten-thirty, it was suit-hemming time. Mother told Bill to put the pants on so she could measure. By this time, he was frustrated and mad. “I don’t have time to try them on!”

Annoyed at his impertinence, she vacillated. “Well, just hold them in front of yourself and show me where you want the hem.” Irritated, he held them to his waist. “Now where do you want the hem?” He bent and pointed. She snipped. He rushed to the shower while she hemmed and pressed.

In a few minutes, he called out. He was all dressed except for his trousers. She bragged on her neat job as she hurried the pants back to him. In minutes, with a face like a thundercloud, he was out to model the new suit. He was fully dressed in jacket and tie, even down to shoes and socks. The trouser hems were fully three inches above his socks. He looked like Tom Sawyer in knee breeches! Everybody sat in shocked silence. The suit was ruined! Mother looked at Bill in the suit she’d just destroyed and excused herself.

“Well, it couldn’t be helped.” Out of shock, the room exploded in guffaws. It was obvious there had been so many ways “it could have been helped!”