And then I wrote...

by Dick Schilling, "Editor Emeritus"

... that I watched most of the funeral for the late Barbara Bush, not because I was a fan, but because of her position as wife of one president and mother of another.

She was unique in that respect, even though the same was true of Abigail Adams. But it is my understanding that Barbara was alone in being alive for both, because Abigail died before her son took office.

There were several reasons why I stayed with the program.

For one, I was captivated by the huge, highly ornate Episcopalian church where the funeral was held.

I am not familiar with the Episcopal religion. So I was unprepared for how “at home” this life-long Roman Catholic seemed to feel while “attending” the funeral. Many of the prayers were the same and came at the same time of the ceremony familiar to me.

It did not escape my attention that there was a “high altar” which was no longer used for a funeral, and that they have retained the communion railing the Roman church has removed. Communion was not offered while I watched, so I don’t know if the rail is still used, or is just ornamental.

A son and daughter gave eulogies, and granddaughters participated in the readings, which were the same often repeated at Catholic funerals, the one about there being a time for everything, and the one about the hard-working wife. And they had the usual trouble “keeping it all together.”

The major eulogy was given by a presidential historian, which was a unique feature.

Almost without exception, the speakers included snippets of humor, about Barbara’s relations with her children, grandchildren, and others. And numerous references to the self-deprecating lines attributed to her.

The hymns were familiar. Someone suggested that church music unites the faithful regardless of denominations. Amazing Grace, In The Garden and Beethoven’s Ode To Joy were featured.

As she aged and her hair turned white, it was hard not to think that Barbara looks like everybody’s grandmother should look.

Our late spring snows revealed some animal footprints each time. I recognized rabbit tracks and cat trails, but there were some I could not identify. I suspected one was a deer, or perhaps two deer, one adult and one fawn.

And at dusk one evening after most of the snow had melted, I saw a bedraggled red fox cutting across a neighbor’s lawn.

The way it looked, I would worry about rabies.