Sad day attending brother-in-law Bill's funeral, but in a peculiar, quiet way, it was enjoyable, too. Maybe that's the purpose of death ceremonies: To focus our minds on topics we seldom entertain and to make them acceptable, and at the same time, offer a minor note of pleasure.
Or maybe that observation is full of crap.
It rained heavily--inconvenient, but appropriate, it seems to me--and we slogged through it all day. The mass was in the tiny, teeny town of Minatola, deep in the south Jersey pines, and the burial in the veterans cemetery in Estell Manor. I could have had Pat buried from here for minimal cost, and I'm glad I didn't.
After, there was a lovely gathering at the Sugar Hill Inn in Mays Landing. This is an big old house on a lake, nicely decorated Victorian style, and it was so snug and intimate. Pictures of Bill and his gang were placed here and there; I had sent him some of them, including a lovely shot of the three brothers--all gone now, I'm afraid. We had a good time there, finally leaving about 4:30. Didn't get home until almost an hour later, and just had tome to change, then go to rehearsal.
We're now meeting at Barbara H.'s, a huge house about 6 miles down Route 9, equipped, unfortunately, with two big dogs. Rehearsal lasted longer than usual, and I didn't get home until after 10:00.
Getting my income tax done at 9:00 today.
WIDER: Going with Leslie to a peace vigil at 6:00 to mark the one-thousanth American military death in Afghanistan. Significantly--and ominously, it seems to me--this is the first peace demonstration our group has had since O. was elected. A further thought: It bothers me that we commemorate the thousandth American killed in this bloody horror but, as ever, we ignore the other humans who have died at our hands. Hubris, anyone?