A Beagle in church....

 

 Beagle in church..

Even in the funeral business you will find lite moments.. moments that
seem to have been placed there on purpose if you will, just to relieve
the strain of the day. The following is one such moment. A real story
from the book Undertakings of an Undertaker, true stories of being
laid to rest. This happened while I was with the 

Phillips Funeral Home in Corning. I can't help but smile each time I review it...

maybe because I'm a former Beagle owner and dog lover. You'll smile too 

when you read it.

                                                A Beagle in Church (Day of the Beagle)

    My assistant and I arrived at the Methodist Church in plenty of time for the scheduled 1:00 pm memorial service.  We unloaded the five floral pieces and placed them appropriately around the alter and the riser in front of where I would be seating the family.

   The gentleman who had passed just three days earlier had been cremated, and his lovely wife, also getting on in years, had decided she would like his service at their church where they had been married some forty- five

years earlier.  This is truly the full circle of life, being baptized at a church, perhaps being married at the same altar a couple of decades later, and finally having your mortal remains taken to the same facility for a final goodbye.  What would transpire at that altar less than an hour from now was another of those “it will never happen again” moments, a moment indeed worth writing about.

   The church members started to arrive within twenty minutes of the appointed hour, and I briskly assisted them at the register book, handing them a service bulletin and directing them to a seat.  One elderly lady with a rough looking fox wrapped about her neck whispered in my ear as she passed, "Do you fellows have Mrs. Billings who passed away last night? She was a dear and I must know where she will be laid out."

   Having no knowledge of the woman's death, I remarked back to her, "I'm so sorry, but no, our firm has not been notified of her passing.  Perhaps one of the other firms in town has her."

   "Oh quite so" she uttered back.  "Although, your firm does such a lovely job, can't see anyone wanting to go elsewhere."

   Before I could suggest she look at the evening newspaper, she had quickly left me and had made her way through the double doors at the back of the church.  She was heading for one of the nearby ancient wood pews, which had no padding, just a straight back and a most uncomfortable contour. I had figured out years ago why so many churches built a century ago configured them as such. It would be very difficult, if not impossible, to fall asleep in one of these pews.  Even if a man or woman of the cloth were to go on for an hour, or more, you most assuredly would have to be constantly manipulating your back and limbs to keep from seizing up.  This surely would keep you awake through the majority of the sermon delivery!

   Within twenty minutes , we had almost seventy people in church.  The pastor winked at me on his way in and said,"Good day young man. I'll try to be brief today."  Now when a Pastor says that, be prepared. What that means is that you will be there for the duration.  In fact, you might miss your first child’s birth.

    Soon, the pastor was at his post, and the organist had sounded the official opening with his rendition of “The Old Rugged Cross”. To my left, came two very young and distinguished looking members of the U.S. Navy. The deceased had been a Veteran of the Navy, and these folks were here to present the flag to his wife who now sat in the first pew on the right. I instructed them on where the wife was seated, what she was wearing etc..  They stretched their necks to make sure they had her in sight and nodded in the affirmative to me.  I thanked them in advance for their service and they said in return to me, "You're welcome Sir.  We are honored to be here today."

    The pastor had finished his sermon and from the pulpit announced that military honors would now be accorded before the final blessings given.  The two service people walked slowly in step up the middle aisle of the church.  Their actions together, almost forming one person.  Military honors were always moving, seeing the flag unfolded, refolded and handed to a loved one, thanking them for the veteran's service to the nation. But today, there would be a little icing on the cake.

    As the service attendants held the flag fully unfolded and prepared for the re-fold, out of a secondary parallel aisle to the left came running the unmistaken brown, black and white dog body of a small Beagle. He hit the main aisle, made a sharp left turn and bolted for the front of the church.  As he passed three rows of pews, several in attendance started to laugh, a sharp contrast to the seriousness of the two Navy personnel who looked on, trying to keep their composure.  As the Beagle passed the eighth and ninth aisles, a gentleman on the very inside reached down, grabbed the Beagle and gingerly pulled him up on the pew, putting to an end to his uninvited presence at this most solemn occasion.

   I believe the widow never knew what happened behind her, and the flag presentation was completed with all its dignity that could be mustered.  We never did find out who the dog belonged to, but everyone in attendance had a smile on their face as they left.  I’m sure many were thinking that this was not an accident, but rather planned by a "Higher Up" authority to lessen the pain of those in attendance. If it was HIS will, it worked.  After all, who couldn't love a Beagle in church. 

A Rose in the cemetery......

 

It's a cold February day.....but the cold never kept Bill

Clawson from heading out to take some interesting photos.

Today though, might be more than he bargained for. 

This is story number 26 in Tales Unleashed. It's a feel good

story, but it could also give you a chill. 

 

 

               

 

There was nothing Bill Clawson loved more than to grab

his 35 mm on his time off and head to the outdoors. There

was such a plethora of scenes, people and animals to frame

in his old Konica…. and today he thought would be no

exception.

 

Living in the Finger Lakes of New York, Bill’s favorite spots

were old cemeteries. Walking among the weathered markers,

he loved pausing to read the inscriptions, and photographing an

occasional crow sitting on a headstone.  

 

It was just after eight a.m. when Bill pulled into his favorite

spot. It was Hendricks cemetery, a place that had been the

final resting spot for scores of people who had passed on

since the mid 1800’s and some since.  Climbing out of his

’87 Jeep, Bill grabbed his camera and headed up the dirt

 road which led to the main entrance. There was no entrance

 sign, or gate of any kind…..just a lonely hard- pack dirt road that

beckoned those to ‘come on in’ and rest a spell.

 

The snow which had started to fall overnight had accumulated

several inches, and was still coming down at a pretty good

pace as Bill made his way up the road, pausing just a few

moments to scan the entire scene in front of him.

 

Suddenly, Bill noticed that he was not alone. Ahead of him at

about fifty yards was a young gal, looking to be in her

early twenties. Long black hair descended to meet up with

a fur collared coat that was most appropriate for the snow

which continued to fall.  

 

As Bill raised his right hand to give a wave and say hello, the

girl turned suddenly and gingerly ran away from him, and

within ten paces had dashed to the left, being swallowed

up within the tens of grave markers which stood guard.

 

Bill thought it was odd he would see someone else at this

hour, at this place, unless she too might be a photographer

herself. He had not noticed any other tracks leading into

the cemetery and he proceeded up the road to where he

had seen her disappear.  When he reached the spot…..

he kept examining the ground… and finding no tracks

continued on and to the left.. the direction in which the

girl had fled. 

 

At about twenty yards out Bill noticed a cemetery bench

that itself was not unusual, but rather unique in it’s

appearance in this snow fall.  Examining the bench,

Bill saw it void of snow on much of it… looking like

someone had sat there and then departed a short

time ago.. and yet there were no tracks to substantiate

such an action.

 

Bill sat down and placed the camera next to him, pulling

his collar up against the snow which had now increased

in it’s intensity.

 

Reaching down, Bill re-tied one of his boot laces which had

come loose.. and as he sat up, his eyes scanned the marker

directly in front of the bench where he sat.

 

The stone read:     Rose Melinda Bellamy

                                9-5-65                 2-14-85

 

Bill was always moved when he read a stone that contained

the sad information about a young person passing away

at such an early age.

 

The more he looked at the stone, the more he realized that

today was indeed… February the 14^th…. this was the day

indeed that young Rose had passed away. Bill thought

how ironic….this Rose, passing away on Valentines day.

 

Bill picked  up his Konica and snapped a picture of the

stone and of the bench, then turned southward and

headed for his car.

 

Bill thought about the girl he had seen just a short time

ago.   Could it have been Rose herself? Bill had a shudder

move up his back and the hair on his arms tingled as he

thought about the brief encounter.

 

But it would soon become more puzzling for Bill.

 

As he returned to his car and approached the front

bumper, he looked at his windshield which now had

accumulated a new inch of snow.

 

 In the middle of the windshield, and in the new snow,

 someone had drawn a most perfect heart.

 

Well, it was Valentines day….

 

Bill’s eyes welled up, as he considered all the possibilities.

 

As he got in his car, Bill looked out at the cemetery and

said softly, “I will be back again soon Rose. You won’t

be forgotten.”

 

Bill reached for the heater…and turned it on full- high…

it would take more than a few minutes to extinguish

the chill which had now engulfed him fully.

 

Bill turned the car around and headed for home.

 

Reaching up to adjust the rear view mirror…. he

decided against the action. ‘Better not’ he thought

to himself. Would she be back in the road to see

him leave? He pushed down on the accelerator.   

 

Bill knew that he would eventually return to

Hendricks cemetery…but he would wait for warmer

weather…a time that would bring about maybe a

daffodil…and maybe even a Rose.

Welcome ........in the future...what's coming.

 

If you are a regular reader here at my blog....thanks for continuing to

stop in from time to time. If you are a new reader, let me welcome you 

in for the first time. My readership continues to grow, actually world 

wide thanks to a couple of great folks in the UK who helped me 

establish my first book there...and it's amazing how the large 'web' 

continues it's outreach. We certainly live in a far different world 

that we experienced just a few short years ago.

OK....as you scroll down here, you will find the five part series on 

Buddy Holly, who left us six decades ago in that horrific plane crash.

That series has been widely read...and I hope you'll take a look at 

the series. If you are new to the blog here...you can call up a number

of stories posted on the right...many from both of my two books, others

were not in the books but perhaps published elsewhere, or just 

posted here for your enjoyment.

I constantly look for new things to write about....it can be a real life

story, or in many cases it will be totally fictional. Either way I hope

you will continue to stop by and spend some time here.

You can reach me anytime at undertakings@inbox.com 

Drop a note anytime, I'd love to hear from you.  SS

The Loss of Buddy Holly, part 5

 

This is part five, and the last installment on that horrific crash on Feb.
3rd, 1959. If you missed any of the parts in this series, you can simply
scroll down to view them.  I hope you enjoyed the read....the events
are part of rock and roll history....and each year they continue to fade
into the fabric of time itself.

conclusions on the crash…

Before the NTSB, there was the Civil Aeronautics Board (CAB).  They were the official

agency in charge of investigating the who, what and why of the Holly plane crash.

The post crash investigation at the scene came to no immediate conclusions. The

instrumentation all appeared normal with gauges and readings in their acceptable

parameters.  The engine gave no clues to mechanical failure or loss of power, the

propeller hub upon inspection proved the engine was performing normally at the

point of impact.

There was no part or parts of the wing, or moveable control surfaces

 found far away from the aircraft that might indicate an early departure from the fuselage  before the crash. Upon reviewing the autopsy report of pilot Roger Peterson, nothing remarkable was found that would indicate a medical emergency that would affect his flying senses or motor functions.

His injuries as the other victims were of mass trauma including the head and brain.

The young pilot Peterson was certified to operate under visual flight rules; i.e.

you need to be able to SEE where you are going. On that particular night, the lack of

a good horizon, low clouds, minimal amount of ground lights in the little populated area

would all make for poor visual flying.  To my knowledge the CAB never attempted

 to calculate the final weight of the aircraft with its’ passengers,

fuel and luggage.. if the aircraft was overloaded and the center of gravity was

compromised the plane would be severely challenged to fly correctly.

The CAB in Sept. of 1959 said the following about the crash, quote:

‘At night, with an overcast sky, snow falling, no definite horizon and a proposed

flight over a sparsely settled area with an absence of ground lights, a requirement

for control of the aircraft solely by reference to flight instruments can be

predicted with virtual certainty. The board concludes that Pilot Peterson was

confronted with this situation. Because of fluctuation of the rate instruments

caused by gusty winds he would have been forced to concentrate and rely

greatly on the attitude gyro, an instrument with which he was not completely

familiar. The pitch display of this instrument is the reverse of the instrument

he was accustomed to; therefore, he could have been confused and thought

that he was making a climbing turn when in reality he was making a

descending turn. The weather briefing supplied to the pilot was seriously

inadequate in that it failed to even mention adverse flying conditions which

should have been highlighted.’

 In 2015, the NTSB, who succeeded the CAB had considered re-opening the crash investigation. That was proposed by a pilot L.J. Coon, who felt the first conclusions were not correct.

He thought a possible right rudder failure, fuel readings and that improper weight

distribution as mentioned above could be involved. Coon also thought that Peterson

may have tried to land the aircraft, a distinct possibility, and that his efforts should

be noted in the official record. The NTSB in 2016 considered re-opening the

investigation into the crash, but it never happened. And there you have it.

 There are rumors the plane still exists…..and that the Dwyer family has at

least part of it hidden away.

Within the past two years I tried to contact Mrs. Dwyer to ask about the location of

the remains of the airplane, but I never received any answer from her or

her family. (Jerry and Barb Dwyer, were the owners of the airplane.)

Jerry Dwyer passed away in Clear Lake in January 2016. He was writing a book

about the whole affair…his wife has stated she will continue and eventually

finish the book in his memory and honor.

February 3^rd, 1959, a date forever etched in rock and roll history.