September 2013
SEPTEMBER 18, 2013
Dear Friends,
The year is winding down toward Advent. More about that later.
Yesterday the president fulfilled his office as Mourner in Chief—for the fifth time in a full scale shooting incident. One of the tragedies had been in our beloved Tucson. Yesterday’s was in the DC Navy Yard. Deaths that did not have to be. Hearts that did not have to be broken. Good, hard working people who woke to a day whose ending they did not know they would not see.
Three of us attended a memorial service on the 14th that was very different.
J.D. (Braz) Braswell was a dear friend of the community, an extraordinary kind of person whose life is especially poignant for the circle of friends it touched and cemented. Braz was born and bred in Texas, hence the first name, which was simply J.D. If he hadn’t had a nickname, that would have been it.
He was a mechanical wizard, a WWII vet, a man of family, friendship and service. His enthusiasm spilled out into his automotive repair business, a love for golf and animals and kindness and people. His career was life—full, good, and running over. And when he died, his memorial service was full, good, and running over.
I love memorial services. They are so free-spirited, so down to earth. They are homey and they have a beat. Because Braz was a vet, the first part of this service was military. It’s easy to get an honor guard when the Fort is so near. Two army men escorted Brenda, his widow, to her seat, and then conducted the formal flag service. When the sergeant presented the folded flag to Brenda afterwards, he knelt before her and spoke softly some words of comfort.
The family’s minister presided, introducing appreciative friends and a super singing group, Reverie. I wanted to take them home in my pocket. Talk about a beat. They sang one Gospel song, and a few popular songs from Way Back: Sentimental Journey, Don’t Fence Me In, and (I think) Home on the Range. Totally professional and totally wonderful. This was the celebration of a life, ninety-two years of giving, of enjoying and bearing—a life chock full, a life loved and lived.
Someone estimated 400 attendees, but all I knew was that the crowd was a crowd. A BIG CROWD. Relatives, friends and more friends.
In the field across from Elgin School where the service was held, behold—three or four antelope. Antelope are exciting. We had a few on our property at one time, but they are gone now, and we only have deer. Which are a wonder in themselves.
September 23, 2013. It has become later. We have celebrated Vicki’s feastday, a couple of months early. This is something of a tradition, since the months before Christmas tend to get terribly busy.
On the fifth, we are welcoming an applicant for a week, and the next day we begin our community retreat. It does seem centuries since the last one.
We think the monsoons are over. The tomatoes beside church are still green. Fortunately one can make green tomato piccalilli or green tomato marmalade. Our friend Lupita celebrated her birthday two days ago and brought us the surplus birthday cake. We are so blessed with the lovely Altar Bread helpers the Lord has given us.
Wouldn’t you know—the nice man who picks up AB scraps for his animals couldn’t come last week, and since we had had three days of baking, we had quite a bit of scrap. We’ve developed a chain gang approach to loading and unloading the dry and wet scrap. This was the first time I had been to the landfill, and it was an adventure. First you drive through the weighing area and get weighed for the truck, the trash, and the people in the cab. Then you distribute the trash in various points for re-cycling. Then you go to the last area to chain gang the scrap off. A wonderful morning of exercise. THEN you go back to get weighed again so the amount of the load can be estimated and paid for. THEN you come home through that glorious Arizona landscape under those glorious Arizona skies.
October, November, and then Advent…Our friend Fr Olaf from Germany will be coming at his usual time just before Lent. And then Easter! So goes the year.