She Never Got Over It

I ran into an old friend at the Strawberry Festival on Saturday. I don’t see her often but every time she sees me she starts laughing. This time I decided to capture the moment.

Connie grew up in a suburb of Reynolds called Potterville. You may know it as Taylor Mill. I’ve known her all her life. I knew her dad and mom and her uncles and her aunts and her whole family. Being the town undertaker you get to know a lot of folks rather well.

I’m not sure how many years ago it was but it was at least a dozen. It was a Saturday and I had two funerals scheduled that day and it was as cold as cold can get. There was an estate sale at the Irene Whatley place in Reynolds that had been advertised for weeks. I decided to go by first thing that morning to check out what they had for sale.

I was definitely the only person there in a suit. Only an undertaker with a funeral scheduled that day would wear their Sunday go to meeting clothes to an estate sale. As I walked around the yard that day looking at stuff I was about to freeze to death. I don’t think I had ever been so cold.

The auctioneer had a few large heaters in the yard that people would gather around to thaw out. Connie and I found ourselves gathered around the same heater that morning. My feet were so cold they were numb. In fact they were so cold that I took my shoe off and put my foot in front of the heater as I made small talk with Connie. After a couple of minutes I told Connie that I smelled something burning. We looked down and both of us saw smoke coming from my foot. About three seconds later I felt the pain. Real pain.

I limped through a couple of funerals that day. Actually I limped for a week or two after that day. I got over the burn. But Connie never got over it.

Without exception every time I see her she starts laughing. And she remembers her crazy undertaker nearly burning his foot off.

That's the stuff of which friendships are formed.