Turkey, motorcycles, and swimming pools

While they are sad events, funerals are always interesting. In a good way. I've always learned something new about the person who has died. Even when my father passed away, I learned things about him that I never imagined would be true.

One thing that comes to mind are the comments the people who worked with him made. My father always gave us the impression that he did not like his job. In fact, had someone asked me, I would have responded that he despised his job. He worked his ass off, throwing passenger's luggage on and off airplanes at O'Hare Airport for 35 years. He woke up at 3:00am every day, lugged his tired self to a low paying job. He came home exhausted. That was what I knew, and what I saw.

At his funeral, I learned he was somewhat of a prankster. At work. I never saw that side of him, but his co-workers did. And they proudly shared this fact with me at his funeral. It was a passing comment, made by a guy I've not seen since, but it made me smile. And it softened me to my dad.

Today, I learned something new. Not about my father, but about my sister-in-law's mother, Merle. I've known Merle since my brother, Ira, began dating Amy. I was on their first date with them, which began at my apartment in college. Two weeks later, my brother popped the question. This was in 1992. While I was certainly not as close to Merle as my brother, she was like a member of our extended family. She was always so happy to see us whenever we visited. She was always so interested in hearing about our lives. She was sweet to my wife, and soft with my children, and could carve the best damn turkey on Thanksgiving.

Here's what I learned about Merle today:

Merle's son, Sidney, was born with Cerebral Palsy. When Sidney was a boy, Merle formed a Cub Scout pack for kids with CP. To help with the kids disabilities, Merle and her husband, Shelly, built a pool in their backyard. Their home became a meeting place for everyone, including their other children and their friends. One day, when they were driving down the street, Merle and Shelly saw two hard-core motorcyclists driving down the road. Each of them were riding bikes with sidecars. Merle got an idea. She instructed Shelly to follow the two men, pulling in behind them when they veered toward a bar. Much to her husband's dismay, Merle got out of the car, walked into the bar, and returned moments later. With a promise. A promise that these two men would come to their home the following weekend, bringing their friends who also rode motorcycles with sidecars. The men and their friends showed up, and gave a group of boys, born with Cerebral Palsy, a day they all remembered.

While this was something new I learned about Merle, it did not surprise me. Putting others before herself, seeking pleasure and joy for others, and asking little in return, except maybe a promise of friendship and loyalty.

Merle is surely from whom we can all learn. Two things I know for sure: 1) She will be missed; 2) I'll never be able to carve our turkey on Thanksgiving Day the way Merle did.