Urns, Coffee and Coffins, Oh, My!

Robinson Funeral Home & Crematory, Downtown, Easley, SC

            Perhaps by now you’ve read or heard the news about the funeral home selling Starbucks coffee. 

            The owner of the Easley, SC, establishment, Chris Robinson, is opening a coffee shop in a part of his funeral home and will sell Starbucks there. 

            Referring to families and friends of loved ones in a television interview, Robinson said, "If this provides them a little escape, gives them a break from the stress they are going through, that's what it’s all about -- to make them feel a little better."

            A little escape?  A break from stress?  Hey, pass the wine, please.  And while you’re at it, perhaps a nice massage would help.  Chocolate seems to help relieve stress also, so maybe there will soon be a shop for Godiva chocolates set up.  That could be between the wine bar and the Ben and Jerry’s or Blue Bell ice cream shop. 

            We all know that “stressed” spelled backwards is “desserts,” and I’m all for dessert giving the break from stress, as Robinson describes it. 

            Maybe a little jazz trio in the corner could help provide that little escape.  Some music, chocolate, wine, coffee, soft drinks, ice cream and other desserts – this could be the start of something big.  Hey, add in a manicure on the side, okay?

            Robinson also said that his coffee shop will be open to the public. 

            Can’t you just hear folks making plans to meet for a coffee break at the local funeral home?

        

            And don’t you hope funeral home personnel can distinguish between the urns of coffee and the urns with ashes??!!?!?!

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I No Longer Have Any Uncles

           

            I no longer have any uncles.  It’s an odd feeling, since we have a relatively good-sized family.

            The last of my uncles was Boice Porth, who died Friday at the age of 92. 

            A life-long farmer, he was buried in his overalls; his last ride, from the church to the cemetery, was courtesy of a John Deere tractor. 

            Boice was a salt-of-the-earth kind of person and a good man, a hard worker and a generous person.  He was the first farmer in the area to install an irrigation system on a farm and the first to grow collards year ‘round.

            He was the one who had me picking cotton on his farm and also cutting grapes.  I wasn’t very good at either, or at least it’s fair to say I wasn’t very productive.

            He liked music and had a good singing voice, although most people didn’t know that.  And he had a great sense of humor, but since he was a man of few words, not everyone knew of his humorous side.

            Eleven years ago, when my dad was in his last hours, Mom asked me to call Boice to find out about burial space in the family plot of our church cemetery, since the space was somewhat limited.

            So, I did.  Boice’s only response about the burial plot was this: “First come, first served.”

            After Dad’s funeral, someone commented to Boice, “I guess you lost a brother-in-law.”

            Boice replied, “No, what I lost was a friend.”

            That’s what the rest of us lost this week.

It's About Balance and Drawing Lines

WARNING: This is a serious message, not my usual light-hearted scribbling.

Freedom of speech is awfully important to us, isn’t it? In fact, we hold dear all of our basic freedoms, liberties and rights.

Having the right to do something, though, doesn’t mean that “something” should be done.

For example, in our country, individuals have the right to burn “Old Glory,” our flag, the piece of cloth that is a symbol of our wonderful country. That doesn’t mean people ought to burn the flag, however.

Our citizens have the right to burn the Bible – or the Koran or any other book. Again, recognizing the right to carry out these activities doesn’t mean agreeing that it should be done or that we shouldn’t be repulsed when such takes place.


People have the right to demonstrate and picket, whether they are promoting something or protesting against it.

Yes, we have wonderful freedoms in this country as long as we don’t do harm to others and infringe on their rights.

But, just where do we draw the lines? It’s the figurative locations of those lines that concern me. What has brought up the concern this time?

It’s the Westboro Church members who protested with signs near the funeral of 9-year-old Christina Taylor Green. Those church members have the right to speak their minds, both with words and with signs.

But what about the rights of family members during such unimaginable times of grief and sorrow? Not just Christina’s family but also the families of our military heroes who have given their lives? Where are their rights to privacy?



Do we take away the free speech rights of picketers? Or do we allow the demonstrations but instead restrict the time and place?

For example, should we allow them to march with signs but not within an hour prior to a funeral service until an hour after the service? Do we restrict them to an area outside close proximity to the funeral service and burial site?

This is another time when I have questions but no perfect answers.

What do YOU think?

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Celebration of Life

Thanks to all readers of this blog who have tolerated my several posts about brother Rod.  Writing has been therapeutic - and enjoyable.  The enjoyment has come as we've recalled good times with Rod and some of his funniest antics and escapades. 

The funeral was indeed a celebration of his life.  One of Rod's trademarks was a bright Hawaiian-style shirt.  Well, not one -- but many.  Mom said she counted 42 of those shirts in his closet.  He never wore anything other kind.

So, as part of the celebration of Rod's life, we wore shirts out of Rod's closet.

In Fellowship Hall at St. Peter's Lutheran Church after the funeral.

Embarrassment in Church!

Being a substitute church organist can lead to embarrassment, and it certainly has for me.

So far this year, I’ve filled in at several Lutheran, Episcopal and Presbyterian churches. I’ve been a Lutheran all of my life, although I’ve been employed at various times by a Methodist church, two Lutheran churches, a Catholic school and a Baptist school.

Each congregation within a denomination has its own way of doing things. And that can be a problem.

In our church, near the end of the service, we have a closing hymn, followed by a brief dismissal by the pastor or assisting minister.

Another congregation, though, has the dismissal before the final hymn – except for one Sunday when I was the organist.

Oh, they meant to have the dismissal first, but, when it was time for the minister to say something, I started playing the hymn. No one was singing.


Well, it’s not so easy to read the music, play the organ and look around at the same time. When I managed to glance at the preacher, I noticed he was just standing there, facing the congregation with a smile on his face.


So, finally I stopped playing. He immediately had the dismissal, and then I started playing again, this time with the congregation singing.

After the service, I apologized to the pastor. He smiled and said, “Oh, that’s okay. I had all afternoon. I figured you’d stop playing sooner or later!”

Three weeks ago I filled in at an Episcopal church, which I had done several times previously. Typically the senior warden scans the hymns, then e-mails them to me a few days prior to the service. One of the hymns he e-mailed this time was unfamiliar to me.

This particular hymn was number 512 in their hymnal. Well, when it was time to sing that one, just before the sermon, the minister announced for the congregation to stand and sing number 521. I glanced back in the church bulletin; it had 512, not 521.

Panic set in; I didn’t know whether to play what I had been sent, which was also in the bulletin, or whether to play the one announced by the minister.

Guess which I played? Oh, you don’t want to guess? Well, that’s what that entire congregation had to do while I was playing. Not even one person went with what was in the bulletin – except me. Nobody was singing. So, after one verse, I quit playing.

The minister went to the pulpit and, as he was to begin his sermon, in a friendly voice he said, “Sherry, what was that you were playing?” He waited for an answer, so, from the back of the sanctuary where the organ was located, I apologized, saying that I played what was in the bulletin.
I played at the same church again yesterday; yes, they actually invited me back! When I walked in, the senior warden greeted me by telling me there was a mistake in the bulletin with one of the hymns.

This time, we got it straight before the service started!

Thank goodness, having played for hundreds of church services, weddings and funerals, I don't have many embarrassing moments to write about!!!