So maybe I was wrong
We live in a neighborhood full of disreputables, at least that's what I thought. After all the family up the street has had all the males in jail at one time or the other and their cousins who used to live DOWN the street has a son in jail for life. Then there was the people up and down the street selling drugs and the guys that used to race up and down the street, the rocks through our picture window and last, but certainly not least, the serial killer who used to live around the corner.
And yet...
Today, after lunch, the husband brought me back to the house so I could grab my car in case I had to pick up younger son from work later. There were all kinds of cars up and down the street and one disreputable told me that an elderly man down the street had died and they were waiting for the man to have his last ride through Elkridge so they could join the line of cars heading toward the cemetery. We're not very close to our neighbors. The family (an extended family all crammed into one house) always wave and yell hello, so it was only right for me to join the procession. One of the disreputables kept me posted as to where the procession was and eventually we all joined up to head for the cemetery.
The family is black, which means nothing other than to prove a point about the rednecks of Elkridge (mainly anyone who lives in my neighborhood and isn't black ), the disreputables. They were all their, in their dress pants and pressed shirts and one, who couldn't get away from work stood in the middle of the route one intersection and stopped the traffic with upraised greasy hands (he's a mechanic) so that all of us in the line could get through without being sideswiped. That happened to me one time in a funeral procession so, that was definitely on my mind. The line stretched and stretched and stretched. After the graveside service I found one of the grown sons to express my condolences and he pulled me into his arms for a hug, the pushed me away slightly without leting go and stared down into my face. His face lit up in a grin and said"You're Mike's wife". On the way to the cars a neice grabed my hand asked if I was Josh's mother and thanked me for coming. I wish I had known earlier so I could have gone to the viewing but I'm grateful I at least got to go to the funeral. I did apologise for my lack of funeral appearance but no one cared.
I think it really is the thought that counts, so I'm thinking that I was wrong about the disreputables.
And yet...
Today, after lunch, the husband brought me back to the house so I could grab my car in case I had to pick up younger son from work later. There were all kinds of cars up and down the street and one disreputable told me that an elderly man down the street had died and they were waiting for the man to have his last ride through Elkridge so they could join the line of cars heading toward the cemetery. We're not very close to our neighbors. The family (an extended family all crammed into one house) always wave and yell hello, so it was only right for me to join the procession. One of the disreputables kept me posted as to where the procession was and eventually we all joined up to head for the cemetery.
The family is black, which means nothing other than to prove a point about the rednecks of Elkridge (mainly anyone who lives in my neighborhood and isn't black ), the disreputables. They were all their, in their dress pants and pressed shirts and one, who couldn't get away from work stood in the middle of the route one intersection and stopped the traffic with upraised greasy hands (he's a mechanic) so that all of us in the line could get through without being sideswiped. That happened to me one time in a funeral procession so, that was definitely on my mind. The line stretched and stretched and stretched. After the graveside service I found one of the grown sons to express my condolences and he pulled me into his arms for a hug, the pushed me away slightly without leting go and stared down into my face. His face lit up in a grin and said"You're Mike's wife". On the way to the cars a neice grabed my hand asked if I was Josh's mother and thanked me for coming. I wish I had known earlier so I could have gone to the viewing but I'm grateful I at least got to go to the funeral. I did apologise for my lack of funeral appearance but no one cared.
I think it really is the thought that counts, so I'm thinking that I was wrong about the disreputables.
posted by ---me--- at Tuesday, September 11, 2007
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home