A Friday mourning tapestry

Doug would have liked the day when people said good bye. The October sun slowly broke from behind the clouds accenting the brilliant red, yellow and golden hues of the annual autumn leaf color show. I arrived at the funeral home early, as I often do for events in town. One never knows when the train will be blocking the tracks, so I choose to be early as opposed to late.

As I pulled into the parking lot, several clumps of people stood around half a dozen cars. I noticed they were mostly family so I sat just thinking about saying good bye to a classmate and what it means to all of us who live on. We have a list of about 20 from our Sandpoint High School Class of 1965 who have passed on. In most cases, we've simply heard later through word of mouth that they're no longer with us.

In Doug's case, his death came just a few months after a happy time in late July when so many of us got together and enjoyed a weekend reunion like no other. Doug was not there. People missed him. We did, however, remember those who have died at our Saturday night social, and we stood loudly cheering for our many Vietnam vets.

Doug served in Vietnam. His family said he was never the same after returning. As our reunion drew to a close, one of my classmates pulled me aside and said, "Marianne, are we going to have another reunion in five years? People will be dying, you know." I agreed. It would be important to schedule our gatherings more frequently from now on.

I knew that some classmates would be gathering for yesterday's memorial in Doug's honor. About half a dozen showed up on this busy Friday, including Robin Melior, Judy Hagadone, Vance Ekwortzell, Chris Thompson, Mike Parkins, Phil Turner, and Marianne Brown. I saw several SHS grads from classes that came before and after us. Doug's service brought out a tapestry of old Sandpoint; it also revived several memories long forgotten.

The Farmins, the Parkers, the Merwins---many of the downtown crowd were there. Bobbie Brown Huguenin and Patti Howell came as did Bill Currie and Bill Jacobson. Doug's neighbors, including Laurel Pratt Wagers and Jan Russell bid farewell. Of course, the family was well represented, including his three sisters, his lovely daughter Holly, her family and many nieces, nephews and cousins.

One family member, Joanne's daughter-in-law, with her lovely, soothing, unique voice, sang a couple of appropriate songs, including "From a Distance." One cute little guy among the family group decided he wasn't in to funerals so he and mom spent the duration at the rear of the chapel.

Nancy, the wonderful Presbyterian minister, comforted and lifted all spirits with her beautiful homily about Doug returning to a pleasant home, just like the loving one he had entered when he was born to Charley and Dora, the last of four kids and the only boy. We heard about his phenomenal sweet peas, his dog, his campfire stories, his vegetables and his joy of cooking.

I doubt there was a dry eye at the end when "Taps" was played and the funeral director presented Holly with a flag from the President honoring Doug's service to his country. The funeral ended, and everyone gathered in the noonday sun outside the chapel. That's when I spotted more faces from the past, many with grayer hair than I'd last remembered, including our eighth grade social studies teacher, Jack Bloxom.

Jack had come to us fresh out of college for his first year of teaching. With his no-nonsense, strict approach on that first day, he left an impression with all of us back in 1960-61 that we'd better tow the mark and pay attention. We learned yesterday, through an anecdote, that he was probably just as nervous and unsure of himself as we were.

As other classmates gathered to reconnect with him, he told of a day when our principal Charlie Stidwell was visiting his classroom and Steve Strecker asked a question. Jack did not know the answer, but good kharma saved him at that moment, allowing him to quickly respond, "Steve, why don't you research that and bring back the information tomorrow." Jack went on to become a legendary baseball coach at North Idaho College where he stayed for decades. He hadn't forgotten Doug, and he was there to honor him.

After the funeral and luncheon at the VFW Hall, Bill and I headed to the back country north of Bonners Ferry. As we walked around the American Girl mine site where he stashed a cache and later up the trail leading to Spruce Lake, my mind kept returning to that setting at the funeral home and the VFW hall on Division Street. I could not stop thinking about all those familiar faces, who came to honor the passing of one life and, in so doing, reminded us all of some forgotten pockets of our own lives.