Looking Back

Went to Oklahoma City on Thursday for the funeral of my Grandma's sister. It's a shame that funerals have replaced family reunions. It seems they are the only time that families get together any more. Facebook Twitter and such have replaced getting together in person. Remember those reunions? The organizers picked a place so that everyone would be driving about the same distance. It always turned out to be some little town no one had ever been to. You load up as many family members as you could cram in the car, plus ice chests, toys, blankets & lawn chairs, drive 75-150 miles to a park that obviously had been mowed for the first time in a year, yesterday. Which didn't do anything but piss off the chiggers, mosquitoes, flies and other insects that had been living there undisturbed. There's a concrete slab with what's left of a cover after the big storm this past spring. A swing set with a couple of broken swings and a one of those metal slides that heats up to 250 degrees by noon. The water fountains didn't work and water barely trickled out of the only hydrant. But there was tons of good food, fried chicken, baked hams, potato salads, baked beans, cookies, pies & cakes. Not to mention all the fresh cucumbers, watermelons and other goods from the gardens. Lemonade and sweet tea by the gallons. In the end in spite of chiggers, red ants & flies everyone always had a good time. But back to my original thought. Aunt Mae's service was nice, the minister did a pretty good job. My mind wandered a few times but I think the message he was trying to send had to do with the legacy you leave behind and how family and who you are or how you are perceived are the important things not worldly possessions. As he put it "you've never seen a hearse pulling a U-Haul". That being said we sent Aunt Mae to be with the Angels in fine fashion. Even though I don't see them often enough I have a fantastic family that I love dearly and no matter how long between trips to southern Oklahoma, I never feel better than when I see that red dirt and I know I'm home.