Ch. 271; Vol. 10
Puck stuffed down sausages, eggs, and Texas toast from Gloria’s counter, around games of UNO and Spot It, washing it down with a cold sparkling raspberry water, a little oblivious to the idea of funerals and homilies and flower arrangements on a mild Saturday morning in September.
So a day after watching leaf cutter ants slice and haul tropical pink rose petals at the Zoo, and Puck punching fountains, we found ourselves on the north side of 70 waiting for Grandma Snicketts’ visitation to begin.
Flowers sent with condolences from Virginia to Iowa. Puck and his cousins played little games on Bær’s iPhone together, or visited the caged doves in he atrium. Two hours of catch-up: Chinese fiance, law firms, new babies, church office meetings, new hair cuts, and all that stuff.
Carrie and I decided that it was probably the best funeral we had ever attended. I guess it might sound a little funny describing funerals like that, but it’s true anyway. I think part of that came from all four kids contributing to the ceremony. Two hymns led by Uncle Clarence, a song by Uncle Balthasar, all accompanied by Bær, Jaya, and an old friend on guitar, and words from Aunt Tuuli and Dad. Dad displayed example of Grandma’s art, including his favorite futuristic “Pipe City”, a work ahead of its time, which he described as “Star Wars like”. And despite her Depression roots, Grandma had done very well: studied hard, worked hard [teaching a one-room school house at seventeen, operating a potbellied stove] and traveled well – Hawai’i, Austria, Israel. Not bad for a little girl grown up on a small farm in small town Odessa, Missouri.
Bogey Hills Country Club.
An unexpected roll of green hills in the suburbs. Buffet of sandwiches, salads, and fruit, another table of brownies and cookies. Goblets of lemonade.
No matter how long it’s been, we always like to see the cousins again. There’s always something new, or old, to talk about it. And the fact that Puck actually gets to see his second cousins every year is something that doesn’t happen much in this part of the world anymore. They ran around the open deck in the wind; we heard there were storms coming, maybe.
We all eventually ended up back at The Big House.
The sorting of a lifetime had begun. Stacks and stacks and boxes and boxes. Everyone wanted their own memories. But Puck couldn’t get it out of his head that he was actually making purchases…
“IS THIS FREE?!”
Then he found an old pair of small pliers…
“DAD! Now I can PLY THINGS WITH YOU, DAD!”
Bær shrugged. “Makes sense.”
I took a gold lariat necklace that Grandma had made.
All the aunts and uncles gabbed in the living room for a couple of hours. We eventually left with Puck, but Carrie said they kept on talking. I guess fifty, sixty years of living doesn’t change sibling dynamics too much. Carrie said they talked about planes, well Uncle Balthasar and Dad did.
“I don’t want landing gear,” Uncle Balthasar had protested. “I want something sleek and sexy!”
And Dad talking about building his plane.
Uncle Clarence finally just looked at him. “Luther, just stop right there.”
“What?” Dad protested.
“Every time you took one of my things and took it apart and put it back together again, you’d always just say, ‘Well, it almost works.’”
Time doesn’t change much.
