I imagine with a blog title referring to a double header you are assuming this blog will deal with the game of baseball. But that is highly unlikely since spring training is just beginning and only the pitchers are checking into camp. There won’t be any baseball double headers played for a few weeks.
The double header I’m referring to is something that is rare in the small town of 1500 that I live in. This blog is going to center around small town funerals.
Yep, we had a double header in funerals on Thursday of this past week,
something that doesn’t happen often in our small town. When that does happen service schedules have to be carefully coordinated between the two competing funerals since many in our community would like to attend both events.
Personally I don’t like funerals but some funerals aren’t as threatening as others. These two funerals were in that category. One of the deceased was 101 years old and the second was 88 years old. Both had lived long productive lives so their funerals were more of a celebration of lives well lived.
Even funerals celebrating lives well lived are not my favorite things to attend. However even then condolences must be extended and I feel so inept at doing those things. My words seem so contrived and corny.
I was obligated to attend both funerals since the 101 year old lady was an elementary school teacher that I had shared many staff meetings and teacher workshops with over the years.
The 88 year old woman was a mother to six children that I had the pleasure of teaching biology to over the years. Also I was a member of the choir that sang at the funeral.
So even though it was not my favorite thing to do Kathie and I spent the morning at one funeral and the afternoon at the other.
It didn’t take long for my ‘funeral unease’ to disappear however. When I shook the hand of the 99 year old husband with tears in his eyes he shared that he and his wife had never had even one fight during their seventy years of marriage! Wow! That was humbling to hear because mine and Kathie’s forty nine years together can’t reflect such an accomplishment.
And then the memories began to unfold. A nephew of the family was there who I had in my biology class and he was also a member of one of my early cross country teams.
He reminded me of a cross country incident that I was trying to forget. Our team was not very successful at that time. We lacked those stud runners that we needed to win meets. But we had a lot of fun. I think many of the runners came out for the social aspect of the sport and the actual running was secondary.
His memory actually had nothing to do with running a race or even training for a race. He remembers the time we were on our way to a meet and I was driving the ‘stretch’ as we called it. It was like the fancy limousines that wedding parties celebrate with today except it was orange like a bus with Wheaton-Dumont Public Schools painted on the sides. It was embarrassing to be seen riding or driving in it!
Well as I said we were driving to a cross country meet after school and I was in my normal end of the day exhaustive state when we hit the first rumble strips indicating a stop sign was ahead. Once I drove over the second set of rumble strips I realized stopping was going to be necessary so I slammed on the brakes but the limo full of sixteen giggling, talking teenagers didn’t want to slow down very fast.
We rolled right through the stop sign, across the approaching highway and continued on for a few feet before coming to a stop. The young athletes suddenly weren’t giggling or talking and my heart had picked up a few beats. It was a memory that could have resulted in more dire consequences. We were lucky the highway we crossed over was not very busy. My knees begin to shake again just thinking about it.
I was always proud of that young nephew as he had gone on to college and then medical school and became a physician. It was a little disturbing, however, to find out that he had recently retired. Another reminder that I too was getting older. Who needs that reminder especially at a funeral and a double-header funeral to boot!:(
The afternoon funeral emitted even more memories.
I did my student teaching at the same school I ended up teaching in for thirty-four years, Wheaton High School. As parent- teacher conferences approached during the winter of my student teaching experience I along with my supervising teacher met with the student’s parents.
Who do you suppose was one of my first parents I would meet during that conference. Yep, it was Pearl that eighty-eight year old lady whom we would be laying to rest later in the day. Of course at the time of our initial meeting she would have been around thirty-seven which to me being in my early twenties put her well past middle age! How wrong I was! Maturity has a way of allowing us to rethink such inaccurate conclusions. 🙂
I soon discovered that she and her husband had six children. Six children that I would strive with the best of my ability to teach them biology.
As the funeral service began memories of experiences with that family flooded my mind. The husband and father, Leo, had passed away almost twenty years earlier, however, when he was living he loved to teach the teenagers in our church about his faith. In fact Kathie and I volunteered and worked with Leo with those same youth groups.
I remember one of the experiences he shared with all of us. During our youth group class we were discussing miraculous events that we had heard about or actually been a part of. Leo told us about being on a ship filled with soldiers during World War II. I believe they were on the Pacific Ocean and they were a part of a fleet of ships that were being attacked by submarines firing torpedoes. Ships were being sunk all around them and the soldiers were tense expecting at any time to have their ship’s hull torn open by an exploding torpedo.
Leo then described how a few of the frightened solders began to pray the Our Father. Soon all the soldiers, hundreds of them, began to pray together. The ship resounded with the men’s voices being sent Heavenward.
Miraculously the torpedoes never hit their marks and the ship filled with praying soldiers escaped unscathed. All of us who were attending that youth group meeting agreed that there was power in prayer.
One of Pearl’s and Leo’s sons was playing on the seventh grade basketball team that I was coaching. That winter the men on our faculty were playing a Fargo men’s team sponsored by a Fargo radio station. It was a fund raiser for our school.
The gym was packed with screaming spectators hoping the hometown teachers could upset the visiting Fargo athletes. About that time I stole a pass and streaked down the gym floor heading for a sure layup. My shot lacked the soft touch it should have had and ricocheted off the rim for a miss!
As I was running back down the floor I heard Pearl’s seventh grade basketball playing son holler at me from the bleachers, “Hey coach, that’s not how you told us we were to shoot layups!” 🙂
All six of Pearl and Leos’ children were good students and fun to have in class except for one time. Their oldest daughter was in a biology class that got into a discussion of curfews, parental rules and things of that nature.
Now at that time I wasn’t married and of course had no children so what could I possibly add to such a conversation. Of course that didn’t stop me so I was sharing my philosophy on child rearing too.
I didn’t realize how my comments were upsetting Pearl’s daughter until the bell rang and class was being dismissed. As she walked out the door with her arms crossed carrying her books she said to me in a very upset voice, “Boy, I’m glad you aren’t my Dad!”
Over the years Pearl’s daughter and I have laughed about her teenage comments to her biology teacher. In fact she had forgotten about her comments until I reminded her years later when she was a mom and experiencing child rearing herself.
I think she has forgiven me for riling her up those many years ago because when I gave her a hug at the funeral she chuckled and said, “I think you would have been a pretty good Dad.”
Memories, some make us smile and some make us sad. But all memories are reminders of where our lives have taken us. That double header funeral day certainly was a chance to experience that.
Until next time.
