Farewell Old Friend...

It was a cold and damp afternoon standing graveside. The mourners were all bundled up, quiet and introspective. The color guard stood close to the family and I could see one of my best friends holding back his tears. His fourteen month old son was struggling and impatient. He began to cry. A soldier began to play Taps and a cool wind picked up out of nowhere. Now the little boy really started to cry. His mother could not comfort him and the boy was temporarily quieted when passed to his father, but he was not able to hold him long. The mother put the child down and he began to bellow. Sensing the frustration of the parents at this disruption during such an emotional time, I thought how I might be able to assist. I searched my deep pockets for some item that may feed the child's curiosity and calm him, but the only thing I could find were my car keys. I gave the keys to the boy who took them and immediately began to play with them. Relief was shared by all who were close. The boy then ran off and threw my keys into the newly dug hole. The family stood by in horror while I was in the grave digging by the casket trying to retrieve the keys.



No, this did not actually happen. Yes I was at a funeral and yes my friend was there and the Marines and the crying child, but the key thing happened only in the wide open spaces that are or is my mind. I can't explain why this passed through my head, but it just did. I actually envisioned it as a potentially hilarious scene in a movie. "Hello, could I speak to one of the Farrelly Brothers, please?" I admit, I'm a bit embarrassed by it, but maybe it's just a defense mechanism against the real emotions passing through me.



Just so you know, I asked my friend Bert for his permission to write about this experience as I'm fully aware that I'm skirting the line of good taste. He gave his blessing because his father who was an incredible man thrived on humor even though he endured more than his fair share of hardship in his life.





Bert Kline Sr. was a self made man who served in World War II and spent time in China, and the South Pacific. He put himself through school earning not one, but two degrees. He opened his own pharmacy and worked very hard to make it the success that it was. He lost his wife at a very early age and he took on the responsibility of raising his six children alone. He provided his guidance, loyalty, and his support, but he also held them accountable for their actions and some of the children learned or will learn the hard way. Bert was a man to be admired as he was classic in every sense.


I was given the honor of speaking at his funeral and I was told by Bert that my part would be to lighten things up a bit. I stood at the podium with the tiny Yarmulke covering just the tiniest part of my head and spoke for a few minutes. I struggle with hats as I think they make my head look big. the Yarmulke was just ridiculous on me. It was like I cut the ear parts off of my mickey Mouse Ears. Speaking of accessories, I once put on a pair of glasses and asked Deb if they made me look more intelligent. She said I'd need a full face mask for that. Lovely girl...

After I finished speaking they brought up Bert's aunt who was Bert Sr.'s sister-in-law for over forty years. Claire who is well into her eighties had a well prepared eulogy and she delivered it with great care and obvious affection. The trouble was that she is so small that she barely reached the top of the podium so all who attended were intently listening but seeing nothing but an empty podium.

Before we attended the service, both Deb and I were hungry, but could not find anyplace to eat aside from a mini mart located across from the funeral home. There we were sitting in the funeral home parking lot with our beef jerky and Pop Tarts. Yet another classy vision for you all to take in.

Probably not the perfect send off, but Mr. K would have approved. The man loved to laugh.