The second half of today...
This is the second part of today's work...:) Enjoy. Let me know what you think. (I am turning into a comment whore and not making very much at it....LOL Didn't give up my day job.:)
Jillian woke early, showered and prepared to meet the world of the current Nesbitt College community. They were all ready to say goodbye to her father. Who was she to deny them, and him the honor of this service? She wanted it to be over, and she wanted it to last forever.
Her savior, Bob picked her up early. It was a little before 8. The service was scheduled at 10. They wanted to avoid the rush to get out of the Inn and the best way to do that was to leave earlier than everyone else. They stopped across the street from the Convocation Center and had a leisurely cup of coffee and a Danish as they watched the small team of people quickly getting things ready for the Memorial Service.
“I can’t believe that they are doing all this for Daddy,” she said as she looked absently out the window of the coffee house. “I bet he is embarrassed by all this, you know how shy he was in public.”
“Shy? Your dad? Shy? He never struck me as being shy. Reserved sometimes, but never shy. He could talk to anyone, about just about anything. He was the most intelligent man I ever met. He would have been an amazing lawyer. He could convince you that black was white and white was green without even creating a doubt in your mind. He was a born negotiator. That is what made him successful. His ability to break something down into simple pieces and then communicate those parts to make a whole. I saw him talk to a bunch of Jaycee’s once, and they started asking him about what a Theoretical Mathematician does, and he gave them a dazzling lecture on “The Beauty of String Theory”. What amazed me was that everyone left the meeting discussing String Theory, not bitching about him being too smart. He was good. He is loving this. He will be having a good time, listening to what is said today. Bet on that.” Bob sat back with his arms crossed on his chest, proud of his friend.
“Maybe you’re right, Bob. I just don’t see him the way you do.” She confessed, “Maybe that’s a good thing.”
“Your dad was full of surprises, a great guy, and a great friend. I miss him so much, already.”
“Me, too”, said Jillian as they stood up to make their way across the street.
Jillian looked wonderful. Black silk skirt and jacket, black stockings, black leather shoes, white button down blouse. Simple, elegant, stylish.
Bob and Jillian walked across the street and took a short walk across the park adjacent to the Convocation Center. The squirrels played and chased each other. The birds sang and the breeze made the large leaves on the old oak trees whisper as they danced. Bob didn’t say anything while they walked. He could see that she was trying to relax. Taking in all the sights, sounds and feelings of this place. The place where she grew up. The place where her Dad had been “working” since she could remember. The place she always knew as home.
It was almost time. The crowd was gathering, inside and outside the Convocation Center. There were people everywhere. Students, professors, secretaries, bus drivers, even the ladies that collect student ID’s at the cafeteria where here. Classes had been canceled for today, the whole campus was here, it seemed.
Jillian walked down the center aisle at the Convocation Center, Bob at her side and took a seat in the front row. Harry’s faculty portrait was on an easel in the center of the stage at the front of the room. The conversation was hushed as they sat down. You could tell by the tone of the chatter, without hearing the words, that the mood was somber, but the stories being told were happy, not mean or vindictive. Everyone has been in situations where the conversations have been not so pleasant in these situations, but this was not one of those. This was a sad occasion with lots of good memories.
The service was an opportunity for those with an attachment to Dr. Barton to say goodbye. It was also a chance for a good many non-academics to bid farewell to Harry. Some of them knew him for a fairly long time before they knew him as Professor Barton. The cafeteria ladies, “Mom”, a lady of about 70, and “Little Bit”, a slight, diminutive 40+ year old woman, knew him as just plain Harry for over a year before one of the students ran into him in line and actually addressed him as Dr. Barton. At the time, both ladies looked at each other and just giggled. From that point on, he was Dr. Harry. Every time he saw them, he smiled, they giggled and said, “Good morning, Dr. Harry.” He would shake his head, and walk to the dining room to find his table by the window.
The service was nice. It captured the personality of the campus and its inhabitants very well. It was not traditional as Memorial Services go, but it was very well organized and it made everyone in the building, and those outside, feel that Harry would be missed. That was particularly true for Jillian. She felt tears creep down her face a couple of times during the service, but overall, the ceremony made her feel good. She knew that her Dad would have loved it. In fact, she was sure that he did.
The rest of this day was spent relaxing at the house. Bob had taken her back to the hotel after the Memorial Service and waited for her while she changed into some comfortable clothes. She wanted to go to the house. Everything was there. His life was tied up in that house. She just wanted to spend some time soaking up the feeling of home. She could still smell the somewhat stale aroma of his ever-present pipe. He smoked a blend of tobacco that she had never ever smelled anywhere else. It was a very fine grind of tobacco. The tobacco was almost talcum powder fine. The blend was called “Baby’s Bottom” and looked like dark brown powder. The aroma was light and distinct. She always loved coming home to his pipe. It was a sure sign that not only was she home, but so was he.
Calling hours would start in about two hours, and she should get back to the hotel to get dressed. Many of the people she will see tonight she saw earlier today. There will be some new faces too. Some she will recognize and some she will not. It has been a long time since she was intimately involved in his life, there have been many changes.
The funeral would be the next day, and it would be another long day of listening to everyone tell her how sorry they are, and telling her how natural he looks, and how much he meant to everyone. Those are all very nice things, but enough already.
Jillian woke early, showered and prepared to meet the world of the current Nesbitt College community. They were all ready to say goodbye to her father. Who was she to deny them, and him the honor of this service? She wanted it to be over, and she wanted it to last forever.
Her savior, Bob picked her up early. It was a little before 8. The service was scheduled at 10. They wanted to avoid the rush to get out of the Inn and the best way to do that was to leave earlier than everyone else. They stopped across the street from the Convocation Center and had a leisurely cup of coffee and a Danish as they watched the small team of people quickly getting things ready for the Memorial Service.
“I can’t believe that they are doing all this for Daddy,” she said as she looked absently out the window of the coffee house. “I bet he is embarrassed by all this, you know how shy he was in public.”
“Shy? Your dad? Shy? He never struck me as being shy. Reserved sometimes, but never shy. He could talk to anyone, about just about anything. He was the most intelligent man I ever met. He would have been an amazing lawyer. He could convince you that black was white and white was green without even creating a doubt in your mind. He was a born negotiator. That is what made him successful. His ability to break something down into simple pieces and then communicate those parts to make a whole. I saw him talk to a bunch of Jaycee’s once, and they started asking him about what a Theoretical Mathematician does, and he gave them a dazzling lecture on “The Beauty of String Theory”. What amazed me was that everyone left the meeting discussing String Theory, not bitching about him being too smart. He was good. He is loving this. He will be having a good time, listening to what is said today. Bet on that.” Bob sat back with his arms crossed on his chest, proud of his friend.
“Maybe you’re right, Bob. I just don’t see him the way you do.” She confessed, “Maybe that’s a good thing.”
“Your dad was full of surprises, a great guy, and a great friend. I miss him so much, already.”
“Me, too”, said Jillian as they stood up to make their way across the street.
Jillian looked wonderful. Black silk skirt and jacket, black stockings, black leather shoes, white button down blouse. Simple, elegant, stylish.
Bob and Jillian walked across the street and took a short walk across the park adjacent to the Convocation Center. The squirrels played and chased each other. The birds sang and the breeze made the large leaves on the old oak trees whisper as they danced. Bob didn’t say anything while they walked. He could see that she was trying to relax. Taking in all the sights, sounds and feelings of this place. The place where she grew up. The place where her Dad had been “working” since she could remember. The place she always knew as home.
It was almost time. The crowd was gathering, inside and outside the Convocation Center. There were people everywhere. Students, professors, secretaries, bus drivers, even the ladies that collect student ID’s at the cafeteria where here. Classes had been canceled for today, the whole campus was here, it seemed.
Jillian walked down the center aisle at the Convocation Center, Bob at her side and took a seat in the front row. Harry’s faculty portrait was on an easel in the center of the stage at the front of the room. The conversation was hushed as they sat down. You could tell by the tone of the chatter, without hearing the words, that the mood was somber, but the stories being told were happy, not mean or vindictive. Everyone has been in situations where the conversations have been not so pleasant in these situations, but this was not one of those. This was a sad occasion with lots of good memories.
The service was an opportunity for those with an attachment to Dr. Barton to say goodbye. It was also a chance for a good many non-academics to bid farewell to Harry. Some of them knew him for a fairly long time before they knew him as Professor Barton. The cafeteria ladies, “Mom”, a lady of about 70, and “Little Bit”, a slight, diminutive 40+ year old woman, knew him as just plain Harry for over a year before one of the students ran into him in line and actually addressed him as Dr. Barton. At the time, both ladies looked at each other and just giggled. From that point on, he was Dr. Harry. Every time he saw them, he smiled, they giggled and said, “Good morning, Dr. Harry.” He would shake his head, and walk to the dining room to find his table by the window.
The service was nice. It captured the personality of the campus and its inhabitants very well. It was not traditional as Memorial Services go, but it was very well organized and it made everyone in the building, and those outside, feel that Harry would be missed. That was particularly true for Jillian. She felt tears creep down her face a couple of times during the service, but overall, the ceremony made her feel good. She knew that her Dad would have loved it. In fact, she was sure that he did.
The rest of this day was spent relaxing at the house. Bob had taken her back to the hotel after the Memorial Service and waited for her while she changed into some comfortable clothes. She wanted to go to the house. Everything was there. His life was tied up in that house. She just wanted to spend some time soaking up the feeling of home. She could still smell the somewhat stale aroma of his ever-present pipe. He smoked a blend of tobacco that she had never ever smelled anywhere else. It was a very fine grind of tobacco. The tobacco was almost talcum powder fine. The blend was called “Baby’s Bottom” and looked like dark brown powder. The aroma was light and distinct. She always loved coming home to his pipe. It was a sure sign that not only was she home, but so was he.
Calling hours would start in about two hours, and she should get back to the hotel to get dressed. Many of the people she will see tonight she saw earlier today. There will be some new faces too. Some she will recognize and some she will not. It has been a long time since she was intimately involved in his life, there have been many changes.
The funeral would be the next day, and it would be another long day of listening to everyone tell her how sorry they are, and telling her how natural he looks, and how much he meant to everyone. Those are all very nice things, but enough already.