The Funeral

As a bagpiper, I play many gigs. Recently I was asked by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man. He had no family or friends but he was a veteran, so the service was to be healed at Pauper's cemetery in the back country.

As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost and, being a typical man, I didn't stop for directions.

I finally found the place but an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight. There were only the diggers and crew left, and they were eating lunch.

I felt badly and apologized to the men for being late. I went to the side of the grave and looked down. The vault lid was already in place. But the guy was a veteran, and not knowing what else to do, I started to play.

The workers put down their lunches and began to gather around. I played out my heart and soul for this man with no family and friends.

I played like I've never played before for this homeless man who proudly served our country.

And as I played 'Amazing Grace,' the workers began to weep. They wept, I wept; we all wept together.

When I finished I packed up my bagpipes and started for my car. Though my head hung low, my heart was full.

As I opened the door to my car, I heard one of the workers say, "I ain’t never seen not’en like that afore in my life, and I've been putting in Septic Tanks for twenty years."

Apparently I'm still lost . . . it's a man thing.

With a H/T to DC

Road Trip and a Fairwell

After a couple of months off, it's that time again.  Headed for the Mohawk Shelter in Menands, NY, with a load looking for forever homes.  But this time I am really unhappy about going.

You see, I missed a chance to honor a hero.  As usual when I take my trips, I slept in until 10:30 this morning (because I will be driving all night so I need the rest).  At 10:00, one of our local boys came home from Mosul, Iraq, with an honor guard procession that passed by within one mile of my house...and I was sleeping.  I am so upset that I didn't know about this earlier, or I would have been there with my flag.



SSGT Gary Lee Nelson died April 5, 2011 in Mosul, Iraq, of injuries sustained from a non-combat related incident. He was assigned to the 6th Squadron, 8th Cavalry, 4th Infantry Brigade Combat Team, Third Infantry Division, Fort Stewart, Georgia.


The other thing that upsets me is, those Westborough Asswhipes are planning on being here for the funeral. The good thing is, regardless of the asinine decision of the Supreme Court, there is an ordinance in here in Woodstock that prohibits demonstrations at funerals. Our police department will be enforcing this at the St. Michael the Archangel Catholic Church and there are plenty of Patriot Guardsmen and some motor cycle clubs that will be backing up the police and the procession to the grave yard. But the grave yard is out of Woodstock's area, so the PG will take over from there.

Also, the funeral is tomorrow, Friday, and I will be in New York and won't be able to stand along the roadway to salute him as he passes by.

But I hope you will keep his family in your prayers. The procession today passed my Waffle House, and some of the girls either went to school with him or their brothers did. It was a sad morning there.

That aside, I will be trying to Nude Blog tomorrow night from the motel. Till then, TATA!
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The Bagpiper

As a Bagpiper, I play many gigs. Recently I was asked by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man. He had no family or friends, so the service was to be at a pauper's cemetery in the Kentucky back country.

As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost and, being a typical man, I didn't stop for directions. I finally arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight. There were only the diggers and crew left and they were eating lunch.

I felt badly and apologized to the men for being late. I went to the side of the grave and looked down and notice the vault lid was already in place. I didn't know what else to do, so I started to play.

The workers put down their lunches and began to gather around. I played out my heart and soul for this man with no family and friends. I played like I've never played before for this homeless man. And as I played 'Amazing Grace,' the workers began to weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept together.

When I finished, I packed up my bagpipes and started for my car. Though my head hung low, my heart was full.

As I opened the door to my car, I heard one of the workers say, "I never seen nothin' like that afore and I've beena putting in Septic Tanks for twenty years!"

Apparently I'm still lost....
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