Today Miss Trixie left for Texas to attend the funeral of a dear friend to us both. I would have gone along but Cooper the dog is very sick and so I am holding him 24-7 and praying. That's all I can do at this point.
But anyway, Miss Trixie actually caught a ride down to Texas with some friends who were going to the same funeral and so she had good company on the way and will return the same way.
Ol’ Dutch sure hated to miss the funeral as there is nothing quite like a Texas send off. I have been to several and it's more of a gathering of 300 to 600 closest friends who all sit around and tell stories about the dearly departed and smile and laugh. And that's not all that occurs there. I am not talking about the reading of the will, but I am talking about the after-funeral brunch that is served Texas style.
I have read about the ancient Egyptians and other societies enclosing food in the sarcophagus for the departed to take on their otherworldly trip. But the first time I attended a funeral in the South, I soon found out that all the women bring food for those of us who were left behind and quantities enough to last several lifetimes as leftovers in the fridge.
They laid out a spread that would make any cruise ship buffet pale in embarrassment for their lack. You have the obligatory fried chicken, BBQ beef, meatloaf, roasts, ham and of course, who can forget the always present Little Smokies weenies in a rich red sauce. There are salads of every kind and quantity including Jello salads, pea salads, lettuce salads, tomato salads, cucumber salads and more spread out like King Solomon's table.
With a plate quickly filling I have to decide if I have room for potatoes-sweet, mashed, fried, scalloped or baked. And then just when Ol’ Dutch thinks his plate cannot hold another item I spot the pastas including cold pasta salad, spaghetti, shells, and the southern staple, mac and cheese.
Now some of you might say that a person does not have to sample each item but let me tell you, if you do not, be prepared to answer as to why you didn't try Aunt Mable’s taters or Grandma Jeans pea salad. It's just easier to make room in your stomach than to have to have that conversation.
Finally finding a place to sit I try to eat the food I got but it's difficult to do as there are people all around you asking questions about you kids, parents, aunts, uncles, preacher, wife, husband all in an attempt to see how you are somehow related to every single person in the hall.
But finally, you get the food down and push back from the table a bit to give yourself room to breathe when low and behold Sister Sally from the First Baptist arrives with pie and insists that you try her special recipe. So of course, not wanting to offend anyone, especially at a funeral, I accept the tall, sweet treat and make a go at consuming it.
At this point Ol’ Dutch begins to notice that the food seems to be going down a lot faster and easier as I am caught up in a conversation about Aunt Flo or Uncle Jerry and soon you find yourself standing in the dessert line looking at brownies, cakes, pies, ice cream, frozen concoctions and the ever present southern banana cream pudding with those cheap vanilla wafers inserted into the bowl.
Somehow the eating finally comes to an end and if you are from the North country like Ol’ Dutch, you assume this shindig is going to wind down. How mistaken can one be?
For now, what follows is hours of reminiscing about the Wilsons and all the other names of the area all of which make not one bit of sense to Ol’ Dutch. But finally, once again having settled all the old business of who belongs to who, the people begin to filter off towards home in the afternoon heat to resume waiting for the next kin or friend to pass to the great beyond.
So here is to Uncle Si, our friend who has passed over to the great beyond. May he find yard sales at every turn and deals of a miraculous nature.
Kevin Kirkpatrick and his Yorkie, Cooper, fish, hunt, ATV or hike daily. His email is Kevin@TroutRepublic.com. Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com or on Twitter at TroutRepublic.
