Blogs Are Stupid

Doesn't anyone believe in Dear Diary anymore? What happened to the joy of putting actual pen to paper? And why does every ordinary Jane and John think they can write well enough to burden the world with their scribblings? It’s a mystery that badly needs solving. My first entry contains my thoughts about blogging and will set your expectations. The rest will probably be stream of consciousness garbage, much like you’ll find on any other blog. Perhaps we will both come away enlightened.

Friday, July 28, 2006

Coming Soon to a Blog Near You

"North and South II; Funeral in a Small Town"

My husband's grandmother passed away this week. She would have been 92 next week. She had 9 children, 22 grandchildren, too many great grandchildren to count, and two great-great grandchildren. She was an amazing woman who led an amazing life, and I have a lot to tell you about her life and death. Her funeral was also amazing. There were several hundreds of people there, and never have I seen such a lengthy procession.

I have never been to a Southern Baptist Funeral. Where I come from, funerals are sedate, dignified affairs and respect is demonstrated by hushed revenerence and solemnity. This is not the case with Southern Baptisit funerals, where it seems that respect is demonstrated through exuberant audience particpation.

This was the boys' first experience with death and funerals. I prepared them for what Nanny's body would look like and explained that people would be very sad and many of them would probably be crying. We do not attend church, due to the fact that we are Godless Heathens, but I had lectured them at length about proper comportment and exacted promises of sterling behavior. I thought I had it all covered. However, due to my own ignorance, I had not prepared them for people who had been sobbing disconsolately only moments before breaking into jubilant shouts of "Halleluja!" and "Thank You Jesus!" while waving their arms sinuously to and fro. I'm not sure who was more taken aback.

So...this is yet another chapter in my story of a conservative Northern city girl transplanted amongst colorful rural Southern folk. As prefaced above, it will be titled "North and South II; Funeral in a Small Town." It almost wrote itself and I can't wait to get it down in black and white before the evocative sights and sounds fade from my memory.

Stay Tuned. And, if you like, read the first installment: "North and South".

4 Comments:

  • At 3:35 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I had the privlidge to attend a Southern Baptist Easter morning. I could not fault the view of the preachers views, with cloth covered billowing arms nearly sailing him up the celing, on Jesus' 'death'. He and the congregation were spot on-- He has risen. As a devout Christian I am sure your Grandmother in law wil have thought to be "Coming Home". Coming Home to be with Jesus-- which is pretty cool. And her death should be a celebration, as she will be united with her savior in heaven.

    BA, I can't wait for the the next part.

     
  • At 9:31 AM, Blogger Arwen said…

    Hubby and I went to A SB wedding a few years ago (we were living in sin since we, too, are godless heathens). It was right after the southern baptist convention renewed their belief that women should be treated as second class citizens. Hubby thought it sounded great (all the women is submissive to the husband) until I reminded him they hadn't had sex yet and she was 25 and they had dated for years). It was not a charismatic service though, very proper.

     
  • At 8:51 AM, Anonymous Jenny said…

    So sorry about your loss.

    The yelling Hallelujia...Yeah...I wouldn't have been prepared for that one either.

    I have a hard enough problem trying to keep from giggling in inappropriate places like funerals...that would have sent me over the top.

     
  • At 2:41 PM, Blogger MrsFortune said…

    That's how I want my funeral to be! Wow, that sounds great. Except for the Jesus part, but that's just cuz I'm Jewish and that could prove to be awkward. I can't wait to read more.

     

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