At least I'm not going to write about funerals today. I have been busy packing. Have I said that before? It seems like packing is a new career for me. Books look very nice on shelves, but when you take them off the shelves, they fill an alarming number of boxes. Things in cabinets fill boxes. Things in closets fill boxes. Our mover dropped off 40 boxes today. When I originally told the sales rep how many boxes I thought we would nee, he laughed and said we would probably fill at least 200 boxes.
I have been transporting fragile and delicate items myself, mainly so that I don't have to pack quite as carefully as if the mover was taking them. Then I wonder, where will all of those other 200 boxes go in the new house. Will there be room for furniture? Will we be able to walk around? How long will it take to get them empty? Will it all fit?
The buyers' bank's appraiser is coming tomorrow. The municipal inspector is coming on Monday. We haven't heard about the house inspection yet that was done on Friday. I don't know what's taking so long. I arranged for our New York auto insurance today, so that's one more thing to scratch off the list. One problem is that a great number of residents (and relatives) in our new town seem to be Buffalo Bills fans. I'm not sure I care about them (the team, not the residents or relatives). Of course, the do have "Bill" in their name, but, nevertheless. Maybe I should just be silent about the whole thing and smile when they begin to get all excited. Sigh! Nothing is easy.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Thoughts at a Funeral
Yes, I am sorry to say that we attended yet another funeral today. This time for my cousin, Liz, who had battled breast cancer and lung cancer for 23 years. The thing about Liz was that she never showed her pain. If you asked her she would tell you about it, but she never moaned or volunteered information. The church was packed and I found out that Liz was a regular volunteer for various ministries. She never mentioned that either. She married an Italian fellow, Harry. Her sister, Rosie married an Italian also and his name was Harry too. He died two months ago. Italians know how to throw a funeral, or at least the luncheon after the funeral. The selected restaurants are good and the food plentiful. That's not to say that other ethnic groups, including us German - Irish don't provide plentiful and good food, but, when it comes to food and drink, the Italians excel.
After listening to the eulogy and the stories at the restaurant, I came to realize that we don't really know people, at least I think I don't We get together with cousins maybe once or twice a year, recently more frequently at funerals. We see them for a short time and then we all go back home. When we see them again, we start up where we left off and I, at least, forget that these people have been living their lives every hour, every day, just the same as I am. They go shopping, watch television, read books, volunteer, interact with children and grandchildren, get sick, take vacations, perhaps feel lonely, happy or depressed and sometimes they die. All without any approval from or consultation with me. Of course, I do the same things. Then we come together and our view of the other person probably hasn't changed. Do we know about the good things they have done, before they're in the box at the foot of the sanctuary? I keep saying "we" when maybe I should say "I." Maybe it's my fault that I don't know these things. Maybe you, gentle reader, have a greater interest in people or have a better information network than I do. I think I will begin questioning people more about what they do. I am interested to know, although I have always been afraid of being thought nosy. I also don't want to embarrass anyone. If I go up to Mary and say, "So, Mary, how are your volunteer activities going lately," and Mary does not now and has never volunteered for anything, she may feel uneasy at the question. Once I have information about what Mary has been doing in her spare time, the problem is to remember it so when I meet her again I don't make the mistake of asking her how her husband, John, is, when she told me at our prior meeting that she had gotten a divorce and was now dating Larry. If we are having a conversation and you see me mumbling into a tape recorder or surreptitiously taking notes, you'll understand.
After listening to the eulogy and the stories at the restaurant, I came to realize that we don't really know people, at least I think I don't We get together with cousins maybe once or twice a year, recently more frequently at funerals. We see them for a short time and then we all go back home. When we see them again, we start up where we left off and I, at least, forget that these people have been living their lives every hour, every day, just the same as I am. They go shopping, watch television, read books, volunteer, interact with children and grandchildren, get sick, take vacations, perhaps feel lonely, happy or depressed and sometimes they die. All without any approval from or consultation with me. Of course, I do the same things. Then we come together and our view of the other person probably hasn't changed. Do we know about the good things they have done, before they're in the box at the foot of the sanctuary? I keep saying "we" when maybe I should say "I." Maybe it's my fault that I don't know these things. Maybe you, gentle reader, have a greater interest in people or have a better information network than I do. I think I will begin questioning people more about what they do. I am interested to know, although I have always been afraid of being thought nosy. I also don't want to embarrass anyone. If I go up to Mary and say, "So, Mary, how are your volunteer activities going lately," and Mary does not now and has never volunteered for anything, she may feel uneasy at the question. Once I have information about what Mary has been doing in her spare time, the problem is to remember it so when I meet her again I don't make the mistake of asking her how her husband, John, is, when she told me at our prior meeting that she had gotten a divorce and was now dating Larry. If we are having a conversation and you see me mumbling into a tape recorder or surreptitiously taking notes, you'll understand.
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