I was at a funeral today, a traditional Episcopal service at a beautifully simple church in Downingtown. It was my high-school friend Ed's father who had died, and despite the sad occasion it was wonderful to see Ed and his brother and sisters again after many years. A group of us were very close in school, and we can just pick up again no matter how much time has passed.
The priest knew Ed's Dad well -- he had been active in the parish -- and gave a moving speech about his virtues and his active life. The family photos on display bore out the priest's words. Ed's Dad was a Scoutmaster, and there were photos of him relaxing on his backpack out in the woods, and a Christmas family photo of the whole family that took me back at whiplash speed to my high-school days in the 1970s. We were able to confirm that Ed's three sons -- two of them are twins -- look exactly the way Ed did in high school: mischievous underneath an angelic, clean-cut exterior.
As we were leaving, my pals and I agreed that we must make a point of seeing each other at events other than parents' funerals.
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