Good-by

My mother and father-in-law loved funerals. They especially loved the ones where someone who was well known in the community had died. For them the only thing better was a church reunion picnic. Both of these involve lots of people that you haven't seen for a while, friends you might have lost touch with, time to visit, and food.

The event would start with a call to us to report what my husband called the "gloom and doom" report. My father-in-law would begin with "Just thought you would want to know that Jim Black has died. " Then would follow a complete list of arrangements and times of visitation. He would conclude with "I know you'll want to come to the funeral home. We'll expect you." In the background you would hear my mother-in-law saying " Wallace, you know they were just babies when Jim lived here and they don't know anyone in the family. They aren't going to drive two hours to come to the funeral!" He never understood how anyone could turn down a prime spot of entertainment, like a funeral.

He would arrive early and stay late. After paying his respects to the departed friend, he would retire to the chairs and prepare to hold court. He and all his old cronies would begin with all the old stories they could remember about the "missing member". Before long the stories would get taller and the laughter louder, until Grandma would work her way back to the group and shush them up. If the stories died down (or the missing member had lived a particularly quiet life) they would then snag everyone that came through and quiz them on the latest news. It might be news about grandchildren, new houses, crops, weather or, best of all, local scandals. If a young woman came through she would have to stop and provide a complete pedigree (father, mother, grandparents, etc.) This of course would ensure her a warm welcome and a warm "welcoming" hug from each old gent. The festivities would continue until the funeral home director would come and firmly inform them that visiting hours were over for the evening and lock the door behind them.

Now, Grandma had her routine too. The women would all gather in another section of the funeral home and do their "visiting". This mostly started with a run-down on the latest accomplishments of their children. Which one has a promotion, graduated at the top of their class (did any of them just make average grades?), bought a new car, gotten engaged, or had a baby. This led, of course, to a list of the accomplishments of the grandchildren. My, my, they certainly produced a long line of over-achievers, to hear them tell it. If this line of conversation lagged they might get into a discussion of food and canning. The newest and latest method of canning beans or freezing corn was always good for a lively discussion. When this slowed down, they too moved on to the local scandals. The only person safe was the "departed". It was an unwritten rule that only good things would be said about them on this night.

The evening would end with Grandma and Grandpa comparing notes and swapping stories on the way home. Grandma would occasionally fuss gently that the men had gotten a little rowdy with their stories. To which he would return that the ladies were so busying gossiping that they wouldn't have noticed a freight train coming through. They would sigh contentedly and agree that it was a great send off for their friend.

Wednesday we did our best to give Grandma a send-off Grandpa would have been proud of.

Verna Leona VonGruenigen Campbell
Feb. 12, 1913-July 4, 2010

You taught us how to live. Thanks.