Saturday, May 23, 2009

Weddings/Funerals

My father performed some weddings. Most of them were relatives, like most of my cousins, as well as my brother. He did a good wedding. He liked doing funerals more. Daddy did a very good funeral. He did lots of funerals. In fact, Dunbar Funeral Home used him to do funerals, when the family didn't have a church home. Every Christmas, the funeral home would send us a box of candy for his doing the funerals. Daddy did a lot of family funerals. Even his Mother. He was very professional and didn't break down, despite his devotion to his Mother. When Daddy was starting out in the ministry in Spartanburg, one of his church's members was the local funeral director. They became good friends, and he offered a job to Daddy to work in his funeral home. He really wanted to do it, but Mother said no, because she didn't want to be around dead people so much. Daddy reluctantly went along with Mother, and he continued his job in religious education. But, he secretly wanted to be around funeral homes. When a child is beginning to learn words, they usually get their vocabulary from their parents. I suppose that is why I have to think about using the word "wedding" and the word "funeral". If I am not careful, I will use them as one. I'll say wedding, when I mean funeral and vice versa. Speaking theologically, I suppose you could say that a funeral is a wedding of sorts. After all, you are becoming a part of God's family in Heaven. A wedding shouldn't be a funeral though, because it is supposed to be life, not death. See how mixed up my family was, growing up? Not quite the Cleavers or the Nelsons. If you don't know who they are, watch TV Land. Anyway, I was reminded about all this, when I heard that 75 years ago today, Bonnie and Clyde were killed in Louisiana by lawmen. They were ambushed near Gibbsland. I have been on that road and seen the spot. 75 years ago this week, Daddy was on the train from Greenville to Fort Worth. He was heading out there to attend seminary. Later, he would meet my Mother there, and they would get married 3 years later, almost to the day. But, Daddy's train stopped at Gibbsland, and he saw the bodies of Bonnie and Clyde laid out on the porch on the funeral home. He didn't know who they were at the time but later found out. I don't know if that was his first exposure to the joys of a funeral home. Probably not, since his father died, when he was around 12, but it probably made an impression on him. When I lived in Fort Worth, I went over to Dallas and found the grave of Clyde Barrow, along with his brother Buck. Bonnie was buried across town, and I didn't go over there. That was almost 45 years after my father had seen the bodies. Weird how one's life becomes wrapped around another's life like that. So, if you hear me say funeral, when I meant wedding, just let it go. I am a product of growing up in my father's house.

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