Uncle Honore Returns!
Nothing pleases Uncle Honore more than an occasion to celebrate. Weddings and funerals are his mainstay. They are the only touches of Old World pomp and ceremony Americans have left and he seldom misses one. I suspect it is because he has never had either one of them of his own.
"I love being among the living far too much.", he says.
So, there was no keeping him from Margaret Cotterell's funeral.
"Couldn't they find a bigger pall to cover her ashes?", he said with some dispassion.
"Maybe the box isn't very big.", I answered, shushing him.
"It's the size of a chalice!"
In truth, Margaret wasn't a very big woman even when she was healthy. It's entirely possible sickness had wittled her down to nothing. And, Honore was right: you could barely see her beside the Pascal candle that towered over the little table bearing her remains.
It was a blistery day, unusual for a Memorial Day weekend. It only just occurred to me that the weather favored everyne being there instead of at the beaches on a Saturday afternoon. Margaret had that kind of pull.
Honore grew impatient thinking about death. He always does. "Forevermore is shorter every day", is his favorite saying. It wasn't long before he was casting about for eye candy - a tricky thing at a funeral for a 98 year-old woman. Poor Margaret, like Mom, had outlived most of her siblings and nearly all of her friends. And, like Mom, it would be up to her nieces and nephews to say kind things about her.
St. Michael's was a kiind of surrogate family for her, but I thought it rather striking that when time came to choose a photo for the Order of Service, the family chose one of Margaret in her candy striper uniform. She looked all of sixteen years old. Of course, all of that was lost on Uncle Honore who was now focused on the Bing family as it settled down in a pew that was familiar to me: it was exaxtly where Crosby sat some seven years ago when he returned fresh from the the monastery at St. Joseph's.
"Who is that striking old man sitting next to Crosby?", Honore asked.
I looked and looked again and all I could discern was that Crosby was sitting next to The Mysterious Stranger (Bing had not yet arrived.) But, all Honore could see was someone who was reserved and measured in his movements bearing an uncanny resemblance to Bing and thus, "an old man."
Colette was the first to come over. I showed off the painting I had done of Joinus and his wife. She liked it.
Crosby was on his way over when he got stopped about twenty feet away. Honore, instead of playing it cool and holding court as I expected, got up and dragged me over to get a closer look at The Mysterious Stranger who, by then, was sitting alone. I raised my hand to shake his and Honore decided it would be younger and hipper to do a fist bump instead, causing the older brother to change his own greeting in an awkward mid-course correction. "It's so confusing to know the correct thing to do!", he observed from under his mask.
Crosby soon joined us and I immediately turned my attention to his midsection which seemed to occupy the space behind his buttoned jacket quite comfortably.
"I understand you're expecting. How soon?"
"In three weeks.", he said while blushing.
"That's astounding. And, you're barely showing!"
By that point Colette had joined us and without missing a beat said,
"But [Innamorata] is showing." "In fact", she went on, "She's mastered the waddle."
And, Collete demonstrated by rocking sideways on her feet and holding her folded hands out in front of her.
That was when The Mysterious Stranger chimed in,
"I'll tell you who else isn't showing yet..."
And, that was when Honore, ever the wag, whispered,
"If it's a girl, they should name it Margaret."
"I love being among the living far too much.", he says.
So, there was no keeping him from Margaret Cotterell's funeral.
"Couldn't they find a bigger pall to cover her ashes?", he said with some dispassion.
"Maybe the box isn't very big.", I answered, shushing him.
"It's the size of a chalice!"
In truth, Margaret wasn't a very big woman even when she was healthy. It's entirely possible sickness had wittled her down to nothing. And, Honore was right: you could barely see her beside the Pascal candle that towered over the little table bearing her remains.
It was a blistery day, unusual for a Memorial Day weekend. It only just occurred to me that the weather favored everyne being there instead of at the beaches on a Saturday afternoon. Margaret had that kind of pull.
Honore grew impatient thinking about death. He always does. "Forevermore is shorter every day", is his favorite saying. It wasn't long before he was casting about for eye candy - a tricky thing at a funeral for a 98 year-old woman. Poor Margaret, like Mom, had outlived most of her siblings and nearly all of her friends. And, like Mom, it would be up to her nieces and nephews to say kind things about her.
St. Michael's was a kiind of surrogate family for her, but I thought it rather striking that when time came to choose a photo for the Order of Service, the family chose one of Margaret in her candy striper uniform. She looked all of sixteen years old. Of course, all of that was lost on Uncle Honore who was now focused on the Bing family as it settled down in a pew that was familiar to me: it was exaxtly where Crosby sat some seven years ago when he returned fresh from the the monastery at St. Joseph's.
"Who is that striking old man sitting next to Crosby?", Honore asked.
I looked and looked again and all I could discern was that Crosby was sitting next to The Mysterious Stranger (Bing had not yet arrived.) But, all Honore could see was someone who was reserved and measured in his movements bearing an uncanny resemblance to Bing and thus, "an old man."
Colette was the first to come over. I showed off the painting I had done of Joinus and his wife. She liked it.
Crosby was on his way over when he got stopped about twenty feet away. Honore, instead of playing it cool and holding court as I expected, got up and dragged me over to get a closer look at The Mysterious Stranger who, by then, was sitting alone. I raised my hand to shake his and Honore decided it would be younger and hipper to do a fist bump instead, causing the older brother to change his own greeting in an awkward mid-course correction. "It's so confusing to know the correct thing to do!", he observed from under his mask.
Crosby soon joined us and I immediately turned my attention to his midsection which seemed to occupy the space behind his buttoned jacket quite comfortably.
"I understand you're expecting. How soon?"
"In three weeks.", he said while blushing.
"That's astounding. And, you're barely showing!"
By that point Colette had joined us and without missing a beat said,
"But [Innamorata] is showing." "In fact", she went on, "She's mastered the waddle."
And, Collete demonstrated by rocking sideways on her feet and holding her folded hands out in front of her.
That was when The Mysterious Stranger chimed in,
"I'll tell you who else isn't showing yet..."
And, that was when Honore, ever the wag, whispered,
"If it's a girl, they should name it Margaret."