In the very near future, I will be speaking at the funeral service for a man I have never met. Everything I know about him, I read in his obituary. I know his name, his age, his wife’s name, how long they were married, his children’s names, and that he served in two wars. I also know where he lived (not in Macon).

I also know (from the funeral home) that his family desires a “short and sweet” service. I wonder what they meant by “short?” I really wonder what they meant by “sweet?” Now that I think about it, I wonder what they meant by “short AND sweet?” The funeral home might have meant one thing and the family another. How am I supposed to know? “Short” might mean “a brief prayer and an Amen.” “Sweet” might mean “stand in the foyer and pass out chocolates.” For some reason, no one bothered to define these terms for me. Since brevity is not one of my finer qualities and neither is sweetness, I guess I am in a quandary.

Oh, I am sure the funeral home will ask me to lead the way to the grave site. That is no big thing, except for the fact that I have no idea where it is. Yes, I am confident that there will be more than one tent in the cemetery today, which will only make my locating the grave even more difficult. I don’t think my GPS, even though it is a new one, locates grave sites. I suppose I should try, in hope against hope.

There is one other thing you should know: I tend to have stage fright at funerals, especially when I know so little about the deceased. When “they” teach you how to speak at funeral services for people you do not know, they, well, come to think of it, I don’t think “they” teach this. If they do, it has been so long ago that (1) I have long-since forgotten what they taught or (2) what they taught is now out of date.

I will see you Sunday! Some of you played hookey this past Sunday, but I won’t call names, unless you are AWOL this Sunday.

Amen.