I’m asking myself why the hell I still
have my air conditioning on while living in New England and already a couple
days into September. There’s just
something wrong about that on a very fundamental level. It was kind of a
strange day yesterday on so many levels. I went into work a little early since
I would be away from the office most of the day. I always find it interesting when
the boss breaks up his routine and shows up at a different time. It certainly
sent some people scurrying yesterday. I returned home a couple hours later to
an even bigger surprise, my wife being ready on time.
We were driving up to Manchester, New
Hampshire for the funeral of the Cantankerous One’s mom. I’d never made the drive
from Worcester so I planned what turned out to be a lot more time than was
needed. That’s kind of my Modus Operandi given the constraints I’m usually operating
under (see surprise noted at my wife’s being ready on time). Even though its twenty miles further than
Keene we made the drive faster. One of the things I love about Worcester is the
central location to virtually anywhere in New England. Since we arrived almost
an hour early we swung by a Dunkin Donuts in the middle of Manchester. This allowed
us to interact with some of Manchester’s most colorful residents.
After escaping that nature preserve I
followed the GPS to the address listed for the cemetery where the interment was
taking place. This led me to a Frisbee golf course and attendant confusion.
There was a cemetery next door although the gate was nearly a half mile in the
other direction. We arrived in time for the simple yet heartfelt graveside ceremony.
The Cantankerous Friend offered a short but eloquent eulogy that had my wife in
tears. We were planning on returning immediately to Worcester but the Cantankerous
One asked us to join his family in a post ceremony lunch at a local restaurant.
After another GPS adventure (two locations with the same name and I picked the
wrong one – of course) we sat down with the assembled family.
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| My Wife and the Cantankerous Friend at the Post Ceremony Luncheon |
We felt a little out of place
initially with the close knit family but that soon dissolved in the welcoming nature
of everyone around us. The father in law of our host’s younger brother was very
entertaining and soon had us listening to his repertoire of jokes that had his
nearby grandchildren groaning (I’m guessing this was not the first time they’d
heard the jokes). The Cantankerous Friend joined us for most of the time and it
really felt like we were part of the family. I wrote him a message later in the
day thanking him for allowing us to be part of the group and his answer brought
me up short. He sent “I remember a time
when you were part of the family”. So do I and that’s what made the past
two days special in a way I couldn’t pinpoint until I read that message. I was back
in Worcester behind my desk for the final couple hours of the work day when I
received that message. It meant a lot.
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| Dinner from Monday Night Because I Uncharacteristically Forgot to Take One Last Night |
The visiting PanaGals only have a
couple more days in the U.S. and wanted to thank us and the next door Mafioso for
everything done to make their visit memorable. They insisted on taking us out
to dinner last night. They discovered a dish they loved on our visit to Keene
on Monday night and I was charged with finding the local outlet of the same restaurant.
We were joined by the Mafioso’s husband who is truly one of the funniest guys I
know. We were stopped at a traffic light when we noticed one of Worcester’s denizens
(they put Manchester’s to shame in the depravity department) holding forth in a
loud voice in a 7-11 parking lot. The Mafioso’s husband rolled down his window
and shouted encouragement to the insane diatribe. The madman only paused momentarily
in shock that someone actually listened to him and then continued in even
greater voice.
Dinner was a lot of fun and the
laughter rarely stopped with subject veering sharply into the ribald at times. We
explored some more of the colorful Worcester landscape during our return home
as the ladies declared a requirement to acquire some more of the infamous “Culitos”
(look it up if you want to know) wine. The only place in town selling the stuff
was at the entrance to Great Brook Valley. The “Valley” is justifiably infamous
for its place in Worcester lore as one of the most dangerous places in town. I
acquired the wine and then waited outside the liquor store, looking decidedly
out of place, while the PanaGals availed themselves of yet another American
tradition – scratch tickets. A long, but sublimely enjoyable day.
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