Memorial Service

Wayne and Naomi picked me up at 11:00 for the "viewing"--which wasn't really a viewing, as the remains of the deceased weren't there.  An autopsy was to be performed because she had died in her bed at home and alone.
All day, there was a driving rain, which may have cut down on the number of attendees, but there were a fair number there.  The only other fellow St. James, class of  '50, graduate there--as far as I could see--was George W., who with his son, runs the funeral home.
At noon, there was a brief service conducted by a minister from the Somers Point Methodist Church.  I was interested to see she was a large, African American woman.  Later, I asked one of Joan's two sons if Joan went to that church.  She didn't; in fact, didn't attend church at all, he said.  I suppose the pastor was there there to add a vague patina of religiosity to the proceedings.
After, we went to the luncheon at the Point Inn.  Very tasty buffet and I felt the usual, half-hidden relief at being still among the living.  Naomi and her two nephews spoke warmly to each other and promised to keep in touch.  She had been estranged from her brother's family for some time, so this was significant for her.
There were a number of easels here and there with pictures of  Joan and  her family, some from years ago when I knew her.  On a table in the front room, I was startled to see a snapshot of Joan with--could that possibly be Donald Rumsfeld? Yes, it was.  Of all things, the mass murderer had been Somers Steelman's roommate at Princeton U.
We got home about 4:00, still in heavy rain.  Almost immediately after, my new microwave was delivered.  It'll have to wait until Sunday to be installed, but no matter.
I called Jeanne P., who had left a message earlier.  She didn't go to St. James, but she and Joan had been Miss Atlantic City contestants at the same time.  Another bond was that, interestingly, Joan's future husband, Somers, had introduced her (Jeanne) to her first husband.  As we spoke, Jeanne was in Florida having a pedicure, a fact that tickled me.
I then called Elva G. to give her the news.  Her sister had already let her know, but we had a good talk reminiscing about the vanished days that an ever-dwindling number now remember.  She filled me in on two other SJS classmates: Gail George, with whom she's in touch occasionally and Mary Beth Cosgrove, who has died.
Joan Fiore was arguably the prettiest girl in our class and was crowned Miss Ventnor when she was about 16.  She married at 18--Somers was 21 and fresh out of Princeton--but by then, I no longer had contact with her.
I'm always bemused by the mystery of time passing.  That my have something to do with being unable to see Joan as a great-grandmother well into her seventies.  I can't fathom the idea that I can truthfully be described that way, too.