From: Bob Neimoeller
Columbus
Editor’s note: Bob Niemoeller submitted this letter with the following note: “I wrote this piece last fall, hoping that during an epidemic … this might bring out some smiles.”
After making some wrong turns and asking for directions, we made it to the right place. Just inside the door were two (strangers) — classmates handing out programs and name tags. Most of us fumbled about for several minutes trying to peel the paper off the back of the name tag, and several of the name tags were put on upside down. The programs were provided courtesy of the “Passaway Funeral Home,” where we were encouraged to prearrange our funerals to avoid the risk of being highly disappointed when the time comes.
Most of us spent several minutes in vain trying to find a table where we could fit in with somebody we recognized.
Someone had decided that, first of all, we should remember and honor the deceased by slowly reading their names aloud. After 70 years, the list was long and several of the men dozed off, only to be awakened when one guy yelled out, “Hey, why is my name on this list?” A restroom break was thought to be prudent then, mostly for the men.
Someone then stood up and mumbled something which I couldn’t make out until the end of if, when I think he said, “In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
The only thing I could think of during dinner was, “how could this mediocre meal be worth $50?”
Although it was not in the program, they apparently allotted extra time for us to carefully count out our medications and wash them down with water. A few needed to ask a waitress for more water.
Another restroom break for the men.
Considering the wheelchairs, walkers, hearing aids and trifocals, it took awhile to make the rounds and remember the good times in high school. My wife couldn’t wait to find out who the man was who could have won the prize given to the person who had aged the most. To her shock, she found out that in high school, he was a popular, athletic jock whom she had had a crush on.
Many good memories came back, and by the time it was over, everyone felt a good 10 years younger. A little extra emotion was involved in the goodbye hugs, because we all knew this could be a final goodbye.
And then, one of the classmates who may have washed down his medication with alcohol recklessly turned his wheelchair around, yanked the oxygen tube out of his nose and shouted, “Wow, this was great! Let’s be sure and do this again in another 10 years!”
Amen to that.
