Tag: funeral

The fair; the niece; the funeral

A Shade of Jade

In a five-day period last week, I had three medical appointments, went to the county fair, saw my eldest niece sing, and sang at a funeral.

Tues, Aug 15: I went to the dentist for a crown at around 10:20 a.m. This treatment was delayed twice, once by the dentist’s office in March or April because of a dentist leaving the practice.  Then I postponed it because I realized it was five days before going to France, and I would likely have mouth pain.

While waiting in the office – they were running late -I received a phone call from my gastroenterologist’s office, telling me there was an opening for a follow-up appointment today at 3 pm, so I took it.

I hate talking on the phone in public, as it feels rude. So I was speaking so softly that the GI office caller couldn’t hear me.

Because I have had a root canal where the crown is being put on, the novocaine injection didn’t hurt much. I had to remember to only eat on my left side. And by Friday, the pain required OTC pain medicine and Orajel.

I went downtown to the library talk, which was interesting but long, and the subject of its own post.

Among other things, my gastroenterologist’s office took a blood sample. This later revealed that my iron count was fine and good enough to donate blood, but my hemoglobin count was slightly low. More spinach!

After dinner, my wife and I went to the movies, which is its own story.

Le deluge

Wed, Aug 16: It was a lovely morning as my wife and I sat on the porch of a fellow choir member who would be speaking at Gladys’ funeral.

We went to the Altamont Fair, the county fair for Albany, Schenectady, and Greene Counties. It’s free on Wednesdays for seniors like me.

As we approached one Farm Equipment building, it began to rain. Then it began to pour. For about 20 minutes, we stayed in the building, listening to the torrent struck the metal roof. The operators in that building closed three of the four doors because the wind was bringing the water inside.

I’ve been attending events at the Fairground for over 40 years, and never have I seen the infield turned into such a sea of mud. There were six feet wide streams in some parts for a time and even more severe flooding elsewhere. Water got inside some structures. The equestrian events were canceled.

Still, we saw much of the event. I learned how to make lip balm: two parts beeswax to one part coconut oil, and one part shea butter. (BTW, Congrats, Chuck Miller.)

Salt City

Thurs, Aug 17: I went to my podiatrist while my wife had breakfast with former work colleagues.

Then my wife, daughter, and I traveled to Syracuse the attend the final Jazz in the City event. We go to the hotel of the performer, named Rebecca Jade, who I may have mentioned on these pages. We went to eat at the Salt City Market, a marvelous concept of several small food vendors under one roof. After dropping off RJ, we checked into a nearby hotel.

We drove the short distance to the lovely Thornden Park. Jazz in the City is a series of free public health events, so the vendors did blood pressure screenings, gave away COVID tests, dental products, etc. The opening act involved women dancing to funky tunes for their health.

Then Rebecca hit the stage. She was singing with a pickup band (keyboard, guitar, bass, drums, and occasional sax) she had met only the day before. The two 50-minute sets combined cover songs with original songs from her latest album, A Shade of Jade.

It would be perceived as avuncular bias if I were to gush about how good and professional she was. I will note she sold some albums to people who were NOT related to her.

We bought Jazz in the City T-shirts because Rebecca’s name and visage appeared thereon.

Afterward, she, a couple of organizers, and one of the musicians went to the bar of RJ’s hotel for a drink, and Rebecca also ate. One of the folks was taking her back to the airport for her 6:15 a.m. flight to San Diego via Charlotte. (Coincidentally, she’ll perform in the Queen City on September 22.)

Going home

Fri, Aug 18: My family went home. The day before, the eastbound traffic was at a standstill in two locations on the Thruway, but it was smooth traveling this day except for the mouth pain from visiting the dentist three days earlier.

Sat, Aug 19: I went to church to sing at the funeral of Gladys Crowder. There were 30 in the choir; 10 were former choir members who came back, one driving from Auburn, NY, 173 miles (248 km) to be there. Three current choir members had never sung with Gladys, but they were there because that’s just what choir people do. Everyone said the music was great,  and the service was lovely.

Afterward, I talked with folks I knew from Trinity, the former church of Gladys, Tim, my wife, and me, as well as current and former First Pres folk.

My wife and I went home and took naps.

 

Sunday Stealing: If…

xenophobia

The current iteration of Sunday Stealing is If…

1. If you could change the ending to one movie you have seen, which one would it be, and how would you reshoot it?

At the end of Titanic, Rose is brought back to the site three-quarters of a century after the disaster. She drops the Heart of the Ocean necklace into the ocean. I think this was supposed to be romantic. It feels like the last three-quarters of a century in her life, with children and grandchildren, was meaningless.

But it’s better than an alternative ending which was filmed but not used. “Lizzy (Rose’s granddaughter) spots her grandmother climb up on the railings. She rushes forward with Brock [the expedition leader]… Rose tells them not to get any closer. She holds up the Heart of the Ocean and threatens to drop it.

“Brock pleads with Rose to let him hold the diamond just once, but Rose tells Brock that he ‘looks for treasure in the wrong places,’ telling him that life is priceless and they should make each day count.

“Rose tosses the diamond overboard while Brock’s team shows up and watches on incredulously. The same scene of the gem hitting the water is used before we cut back to Brock and Rose. The former laughs at his team before asking Lizzy to dance.”

Vegetables

2. If you were to select a food that best describes your character, what food would it be?

Spinach. Green, crunchy, underappreciated.

3. If you could cure any disease, which would it be?

Cancer seems to manifest as several different diseases. My father died of prostate cancer, but I know several people who have died of other cancers. My dear choir friend Marion Motisher died, and I was a pallbearer on my 39th birthday.

4. If you had to describe the single worst thing a friend could do to you, what would it be?

I have a current example of someone I considered a dear friend. They accidentally butt-dialed me some months ago but promised to call me soon—radio silence. 

5. If you could be a contestant on any game show, which would you like to be on?

The $100,000 Pyramid, no doubt. I tried out for it in the 1970s when I was living in NYC, when it was the $10,000 Pyramid, but I never got past the first round. I enjoy watching it when it returns each summer.

Funereal

6. If you could choose the music at your own funeral, what would it be, and who would play it?

I’ve actually thought about this a lot. I would like a pianist I know to play Chopin’s “Raindrop Prelude” Op.28 No.15. Of course, my church choir would sing. I have a few possibilities. I Will Not Leave You Comfortless by Titcomb,  which the choir just sang at the funeral of a choir spouse. Or How lovely is thy dwelling place from the Brahms German Requiem (in English), which I sang with others at my former church for Jim Kalas; there are probably other choices.  I want hymns that have harmony vocals; no unison stuff. And I want an Amen; we don’t sing amens – maybe a Sevenfold one.

7. If you had to spend all of your vacations in the same place for the rest of your life, where would you go?

Montreal, Quebec, Canada. I was there in 1991 and 1992 but not since.

8. If you could ask God a single question, what would it be?

This is a serious answer because all the Big Questions about the afterlife would be self-evident. When I was about twelve, I walked down the street in Binghamton, NY. Suddenly, a lens on the glasses I was wearing cracked. What happened? I heard nothing. It couldn’t have been a BB gun, I don’t think. Was it a tiny meteorite? In any case, my eye was fine, but I was greatly startled.

Almost picked ice cream

9. If you could eat one food in any quantity for the rest of your life with no ill effects whatsoever, what food would you choose?

Pie because it is the perfect food. You can have savory like a chicken pot pie. You can have a variety of fruit pies, and I would eat them in rotation. Then there’s pizza.

10. If you could have a year anywhere in the world, all expenses paid, where would you go?

New Zealand. It’s about as far away from me as you can get. It’s a reasonably safe place. They speak English there. And I could meet Arthur.

11. If you could forever eliminate one specific type of prejudice from the earth, which would it be?

May I pick xenophobia? No? Okay, I’m going with sexism because the current manifestation of it, in big ways (Iran) and small, diminish men as well as women.

12. If you could own one painting from any collection in the world but were not allowed to sell it, which work of art would you select?

The Scream by Edvard Munch. I relate to it sometimes.

13. If you could ask a single question of a dead relative, what would it be, and whom would you ask?

That would be Pop, my father’s dad. Someone told me something about him I had never heard before, and I wanted to verify it.

DVD on DVD

14. If you had to choose the best television show ever made, which one would you pick?

I will pick The Dick Van Dyke Show (1961-1966). It’s one of three programs that ran longer than a season for which I have the complete DVD set. Not incidentally, I just discovered that you could see the episodes at  https://www.youtube.com/@FilmRiseTelevision/playlists FilmRise Television.

15. If you could write letters to only one person for the rest of your life, who would receive them?

I’m a terrible letter writer. And I used to be quite good before the advent of email. I’ll say my friend Mark because he writes lovely and loquacious prose.

Planning the funeral of Dick Powell

The late Dick Powell, me, the late Les Green

His family held the funeral for my father-in-law, Dick Powell on May 22, 2021. It was precisely 13 months after he died. Ah,  death in the time of COVID, even non-COVID-related death.

The planning meetings, of course, were on ZOOM among my MIL, one of her sons and his family, my wife, my MIL’s pastor, and me. Dick had jotted down notes in his own hand from months before he got sick. His specific plans involved his four grandkids singing a specific song together, but that was requested pre-pandemic. The choir recorded the song, remotely, and other hymns as well.

Who’s going to read the Scriptures? I volunteered for Ecclesiates 3:1-8. Blame Pete Seeger, or maybe Roger McGuinn. Others selected Psalm  23 and 1 Corinthians 13.

Who’ll speak? Someone from his church, a few people from the extended family, and a few from the immediate family. My wife would certainly cite her favorite scripture, Micah 6:8, which is a motto of Dick’s church, “to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.”

At the end of the service, there was a committal to the columbarium, a word I’m certain I’ve never written before in my life.

The immediate family mentioned, plus my daughter was at the church in person with the pastor, the organist at a distance, and one techie, likewise remote, and all fully vaccinated. Everyone else – the church members, the rest of the friends and family – was invited to participate via ZOOM.

The obit

Meanwhile, one family member had worked on the obituary for Dick Powell. If you think writing it a year after someone’s death would be easier, you might be thinking incorrectly. Noting all of his activities and accomplishments had the effect of dredging up some of the feelings of loss, but also of pride.

There are many schools of thought about what’s appropriate content in an obit. Having read thousands – I love a good one – I’m rather non-prescriptive about them. Except that I do like the listing of the familial connections, which will be useful for future generations of genealogists.

In general, waiting to hold the funeral and write the obit a year later than normal created a case of  dolore interrumpitur, grief interrupted. And that was undoubtedly enhanced by a certain family estrangement; I shan’t dwell upon that here.

Arthur wrote regarding the death of his husband a year and a half ago. It is pretty much what I realized some months after my father’s death over 20 years ago. “The thing about profound grief is that it’s not linear, and it has no timeline. How many times have I said that now?” Not linear; I’ve said that a LOT.

Dick Powell would have been 85 today.

Keith Barber (1941 – 2020)

service Saturday, January 25, at 11 a.m. at First Presbyterian Church, ALB

If you read the comments about Keith Barber on his Facebook page, you’d detect a common theme. He was kind, gentle, friendly, compassionate, gracious, funny, loving – that’s about right.

Keith was a strong supporter of equality and social justice. As an ordained deacon and elder in the Presbyterian Church (USA), he worked for years for full inclusiveness in the church. At our church, First Presbyterian of Albany, he chaired the committee on Social Justice and Peacemaking.

Quite recently he posted on his Facebook ‘The Slaves Dread New Year’s Day the Worst’: The Grim History of January 1. His comment: “A bit of Truth that my own white privilege has previously deprived me of knowing.”

Keith Barber could be a raconteur. He told stories about his time in radio broadcasting, including at WROW in Albany. He shared details with me of stories that took place in the Capital District that took place before I got here. Notably, there was a plane crash in an Albany neighborhood in the early 1970s, which he talked about in astonishing detail more than 30 years later.

Keith was a booster of New York, especially upstate. His Quora page made that quite clear. Although he moved to Florida for a time, he belonged in this region.

The train, the bus

His fondness and support for public transportation was very evident. We shared a love of rail travel, though he did so more than I. Keith became the first public relations officer at Capital District Transit Authority. I’d see him occasionally on the bus, counting people or taking surveys.

The church attempted a Thursday evening Bible study almost a decade ago. Though it started with a half dozen folks, it eventually dwindled down some weeks to just the two of us. Naturally, Keith pulled out his Message Bible written by Eugene Peterson.

Keith LOVED reading from Peterson, because it was “designed to be read by contemporary people in the same way as the original koiné Greek and Hebrew manuscripts were savored by people thousands of years ago.” Genesis 1:1 reads: “First this: God created the Heavens and Earth—all you see, all you don’t see.”

If I’m particularly saddened by Keith’s passing, it’s that, less than a month ago, he “graduated” from getting chemotherapy. It’s likely that the chemo helped create the situation that ultimately killed him, if I understand correctly.

There will be a service for Keith Barber on Saturday, January 25, at 11 a.m. in the First Presbyterian Church, 362 State St., Albany. All are welcome to celebrate a life well lived.

The black funeral home in history

In this case, you’re Chester Miller, a funeral director, and a family is in need of your services.

Indianapolis-Recorder-November-5-1938-Hoosier-State-Chronicles
Indianapolis IN Recorder-November 5, 1938
In response to a reference question, I discovered that 10% of undertakers/morticians/funeral directors were African-American in 2016. But that fact doesn’t get to the historic import of the black funeral home.

US Funerals notes: “In the United States there is a rich cultural heritage of black-owned and operated funeral homes. Indeed black funeral parlors were some of the first businesses to be set up by African-Americans after the abolition of slavery.”

Funeralwise agrees: “Since few white undertakers would serve the African American community, black undertakers created independent businesses to fill the need. During the Civil War black soldiers were often assigned to burial details, recovering and burying the dead, but also assisting with keeping death records and finding ways to preserve remains to be sent home to other parts of the country for interment…

“These experiences prepared many soldiers for work in the burial industry, not only allowing them to serve their brothers and sisters in their time of grief but also allowing them to preserve numerous funeral customs associated with their African heritage.”

Edwin Jackson, a licensed black funeral director, and embalmer, shares a more recent history: “The local sheriff is on the other end and says he needs you to pick up a body… You’re used to putting your evenings and sleep on hold. In this case, you’re Chester Miller, a funeral director, and a family is in need of your services. Today you have been called to pick up a body that was found floating in the Tallahatchie River. You arrive on the scene and immediately you see the battered, broken, and decomposed body of a young boy…

“I use this story surrounding Emmett Till’s death to show how death has been used as a catalyst within the civil right movement and emphasize the role black funeral directors have played in such movements. Sixty years later, we see the maturity of a new movement that now flies under the banner of Black Lives Matter. We also see a new generation of black funeral directors… looking to support our community in the undertaking of such movements.”

While cultural changes are hitting black funeral homes, the institution has long been a business of loyalty, especially in the South. When they died, both my parents were tended to by the nearby African-American mortician in Charlotte, NC.

There is a group, the National Funeral Directors and Morticians Association, founded in 1924. Though by 1957 it had taken on the new name, its history makes clear that it is geared to the black funeral director.

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