obituary...

A cousin who lives on the other side of the state sent an obituary notice of another cousin we have in common. Good man, he was, that cousin who recently deceased. A delightful, charming man who had a great wit, a ready smile, and a welcoming handshake- ....ummm, make that a big, hearty hug, for anyone he encountered. The kind of guy you hear people talk about as 'having never met a stranger. When I read the obituary, with a memorial service being held on Saturday, I notice there will be a time for folks to offer amusing anecdotes and reminisce about his life and times.

The obit. states that he was born in Atlanta, grew up in Washington, GA and graduated from the University of Florida with a degree in commercial drawing. He was a well know, well established, well-liked resident of Macon, in central Georgia for many years. Operated an advertising agency, and involved in lots of community activities and advocacies in the town he called home.

I don't know if I would be willing to embarrass myself by getting up to tell the story, but I know he enjoyed reminding me about it - so I guess I might as well confess it here. I was 18 or 19 years old. Going to school at a two year college in central GA, about an hour's drive southeast of Macon, where Ed. and his family lived. I had never met him until my dad came to the school and picked me up one day, and drove to Macon, where we met Ed. and had lunch together. My new-found cousin invited me to come up and visit, spend weekends with him and his family any time. Which I did on several occasions The small junior college campus was often deserted on the weekends when everyone went home, leaving only foreign students who had no where else to be, hanging around in quiet, nearly empty dorms.

At the time I first got to know he, he was married to Pat, with three daughters, the oldest being maybe middle or early high school aged. I ended up sleeping in the upstairs bed of which ever of the three girls was not using her bed, being away from home with friends having a sleepover. I thoroughly enjoyed weekends with my new-found cousin and his family: they seemed so normal (whatever 'normal' is), and readily welcomed me with open arms into family meals and activities.

So there was this one weekend when I got a ride with friends from the college campus to Ed's home, only to find no one was there. So, here I am, stranded. Left on the front steps of an empty house, in a strange town, with the usual empty pockets of a college student. What to do?  Poked around and found a window with a loose screen, that was not locked. Pried open the screen, opened the window, climbed in the house. Probably could have been carted off to have my photo taken holding a number, charged with B&E. But: there was no one there to report the home invasion!  Long before the era of burglar alarms and security systems in private residences, so I just sort of fell into the house, andout of  closed the window behind me.

I think I remember that once I made myself at home, I called around and found a friend who would come and get me, find me a place to stay for the weekend. I probably did not put things back like they were before I scooted myself across that side table, knocking things off as I pulled myself inside, so I surely left abundant evidence of my crime.  I do not recall the particulars of how I eventually confessed to my short-lived career, but I know he got a lot of mileage retelling the story.

Long after the fact, in recent visits, he enjoyed reminding me about my ill-starred career as a burglar. And got a big laugh each time he told the tale on me... he did love to laugh.