Saturday was the day of the service at the Methodist Church. I drove Lynne into town about 9 in the morning to meet with the preacher and music director. Mandy and Michelle and Chris went to Kroger to get the meal for after the service. My electric razor had made the trip from Virginia to spend eternity in the Franklin County, Tennessee landfill so I was looking for another one or a barber that could make me look presentable.
Having dropped her off, I parked on the square and went looking for a shop and soon came upon a door to an old building that read "Philpotts Barber Shop" That is not a common name, but one I was familiar with. My father's late attorney was a Philpott and has a highway named in his honor running through southside Virginia in recognition of his years in the legislature.
Inside a man in his late 60s was watching TV. I asked him if I could get a shave. He won't set up for that. So I asked him could I get a hair cut and could he run the clippers over my face and he agreed to do that. I had a seat in his chair, and had a good look at the place. I realize I was now in the year 1928.
The room was huge, the tin ceiling was at least 20 feet high. To my left was another barber chair and to my right the parts to make a third one. Beyond that a shoe shine stand waiting for a young man in a straw hat and clip on collar to come along and have the polish applied before heading out to the dance. Back to my left was a series of mirrors which at the bottom of them in gold leaf advertised various business in town that I doubt survived the crash of '29. Some of them had phone numbers and one in particular had the phone number "19".
I asked the barber if he knew Lynne's mother but he didn't. The TV was going on about something. I gave him a tip and told him it had been a real experience. I looked like a million dollars if I do say so meself.
Back at the Church the family and relations had gathered for the service. The interior of the church was magnificent, all vaulted ceilings and ornate wood and thank you Jesus padded pews. The piano played in the time honored stalling tactic until the arrival of everyone and the service began. Chris wore her dress and carried a hand bag and no one at all seemed to care. The minister gave his welcome and soon it came time for our readings.
Lynne rose when the time came, and carrying the family Bible only recently discovered, the one her grandfather had bought on the installment plan for $16.00 in 1957, she went to the pulpit and delivered, bravely and eloquently, the eulogy. The summation of the life of their mother. As Cricket had come into this world 72 years ago to the arms of her parents and grandparents, she had in her time seen them all safely out, into the unknown and unknowable, those people had passed her off to her husband and her children who in turn had carried her to the end. It was as it always has been, and it is what we all secretly hope for. Some one to stand at the end of the line and sum it all up to those who care. I can honestly say this woman's hard work and sacrifices were well worth it. She was in her humble way, a success in life.
We sang the hymns, as best we could, my own voice I would compare to Marianne Faithfuls tone deaf brother. The real blessing came at the end when Billy's friend came to the pulpit with a guitar that looked like it could tell some tales. The Choir director lady looked apprehensive, and after a few words of remembrance, the music came forth, under special license from Shawn Kirchner himself, he bellowed: "I'll be on my way....I'll be on my way.....I'll lay these burdens down......You know I'm Glory Bound.....I'll be on my way"
Never before in my life, and I was raised Methodist, have I heard applause in a church. It was magnificent.