We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
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We held my Mom's funeral today in her starkly-simple 1723 Congregational Church in Yankeeland. You'll be relieved to know that I did a pretty good job with my send-off talk to a full house - she was a popular gal who added a lot to other people's lives in many ways - barely hesitated a couple of times, and got plenty of laughs. The spontaneity of my eulogy was enhanced by the error of having lent my glasses to Mrs. BD for the hymn, and forgot to bring them to the pulpit to be able to read my notes. Perfect. A grumpy baby added a lot to the bittersweet spirit of the event. A church service without a grouchy baby is sterile - and funerals and babies just go naturally together.
I am pretty good with gentle funeral humor. I have had too much practice with such things, and I have a relaxed, casual, cheerful, and friendly attitude, once I get on a pulpit, that people seem to enjoy. I don't know where it comes from. From God, maybe. Not from me.
Happily, all of my kids were there.
The flowers were just daisies on the altar, done by Mrs. BD. Just right for my Mom who detested anything fancy, showy, or pretentious. All 5 of us kids participated, and the Pastor was truly inspiring - and brief. He intertwined Lent with death, rebirth, and planting. The howling back of my brain found some rest after the funeral, and I had a couple of glasses of wine with the luncheon, sitting with my somewhat-benumbed Dad who wined and dined with vigor, and caught up with old family friends and cousins I had not seen in years. Some old friends from youth showed up too, that I had not reconnected with for many years - and needed to.
A summer sunset at the beautiful Berkshire farm she loved so much, in her family since before the Revolution. Her ashes will join those of her ancestors there. We have a ramshackle family cemetery on the farm with a fence to keep cows or horses out of it so they don't poop on the graves:
My Mom was a gardener par excellence. One of the hymns my sisters selected was an old-timey favorite of mine, and of my Dad's. It's a love song. I call it In The Garden:
