Funeral Director

I think I may have a future as a funeral director. Or, at least as someone who directs people to funerals.

On the drive home from school today, the kids and I all feeling down about the cold and rain, were psyched when Toto's "Africa" came on the car radio. Unfortunately, the funky beat started just as we turned the corner by the funeral home and onto our street. I pumped the volume and drove slower, hoping to prolong the moment. Eventually, we pulled into the driveway and belted out the mumbled lyrics as best as we knew them:

It's gonna be a lot to take me away from you
There's nothing that a hundred men on Mars could ever do
I miss the rains down in Africa...

Then, I noticed a car had pulled in the driveway behind us. A man got out of the driver's seat and walked towards our car where we sat singing. "Mom! Turn down the volume! He's got a badge!" my daughter warned. I told the kids to stay put and got out into the pouring rain to investigate.

"I know about Pavlot but where's the other one?"

Owens-Pavlot is the funeral home on the corner. "The other what? Funeral home?"

"Yes. Is it called Roberts?"

"No. The only other funeral home here in town is Heintz."

"Oh. Hmmm..."

I took a look at his outfit. He was wearing a navy blue blazer covered in pins and badges and a pair of dress pants. He looked to be in his late 60s and although he didn't seem consumed with grief, it did seem reasonable that he was heading to a funeral. Could he be a veteran? That could explain all the insignia. Then, I remembered something I had seen in town when I was pumping up the volume on Toto.

"Well, actually, I just saw a man walk into Pavlot a minute ago. Wearing a hat. You know," I made a v-shaped sign on the top of my head. "Like a VFW hat." A VFW hat? I asked myself. What is that supposed to be?

Somehow he knew what I meant. "Oh! Thank you!" He ran back to his car and sped away.

When the kids asked me what the man and I had talked about, I told them he was looking for a funeral home because his friend had died. "Isn't that sad?"

"You know what would be sad, Mom?" my daughter asked. "If you lost your brains down in Africa."

Cue the xylophone solo.