Two funerals in two days

Wasn’t that a Hugh Grant movie?

Said goodbye Wednesday 01-08-25 to a grade school and high school classmate, Leo Schneider.

Both of us were farm kids from large families. Truth be, we weren’t all that close and our paths diverged entirely until a mutual classmate brought together a dozen or so of us not long ago and we became reacquainted with what a truly nice guy Leo was. If the modifier “nice” seems faint praise ask yourself to whom you might apply the term. Damn few. There was not a mean bone in the man.

Leo announced in October at our monthly Sun Prairie WI high school reunion luncheon that he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. “I did not see that coming,” he marveled. He had just returned from one of his “Jeeping” excursions from the Boundary Waters. Leo died on Christmas day. The cancer took him hard.

At his funeral Mass, we got a little verklempt at the sight of two of his granddaughters, about 7 and 8 years old, tearful as they returned from bringing the sacraments to the altar at St. Albert the Great Catholic Church. Msg. Heiar, in one of the best eulogies ever, said Leo would quiz his four grandchildren, “Who’s got the best grandkids in the world?” They would respond in unison, “You do, Grandpa!”

In the visitation before Mass and at the meal afterwards at the Knights of Columbus Round Table, other long lost classmates and farm neighbors introduced themselves. We rued that it was too bad it takes funerals to bring us together. But at least something does.

 The great equalizer

Watched some of the second funeral this morning out of the National Cathedral in D.C. The indentured servants were as struck as Cable TV news by the on-going chit-chat between two former President sitting cheek by jowl, Barack Obama and Donald Trump. Their back and forth was visibly friendly. (Lip readers, contact us!) The once and future President even shook the extended hand of Mike Pence, last seen avoiding the noose at the siege of the Capitol on that January 6.

Death is a hard concept for the young; would that they be spared. Aunt Evelyn explained to her 4-year-old daughter that her father, killed in a mid-air collision, was up in heaven. That did not satisfy little Kay. “Go up there with some bandages and fix him up,” she demanded, “and bring him back down here.” My own son was also 4 when he asked why Grandma Helen died. “I guess she just got old,” he was told. “How did she get OLD?!” Max wondered. Keep having birthdays, we guess.

Must confess, part of today’s morbid maundering is that with Leo’s passing we felt the flutter of wings from the angel of death. We’re less certain today than when we served Mass at Sacred Hearts that the dearly departed are glorying in the vision of the Almighty. Maybe it’s like the bathroom light. When you turn if off, it’s just gone. It was, but is not.

What’s it all about, Alfie. Is it only for the moment we live?

At today’s funeral at the National Cathedral, President Gerald Ford’s son Steven told mourners that his father had become fast friends with Jimmy Carter after the Democrat defeated his Republican father in the election of 1976. Like Adams and Jefferson. They agreed to write each other’s eulogy. Steven read his father’s:

‘As for me, I’m looking forward to our reunion, old friend,” President Ford wrote before his own death on 12/26/2006. 

Chowing down her milk and chocolate brownies 70 years ago, the young Blaska observed Grandma Rose (born in 1885) scouring the newspaper obituaries as if expecting to see her own name. Obits are a must-read at the Stately Manor’s table, too, these days. We’re struck by so many that note the dearly departed’s support for the Packers and their Canadian fishing trips but, oft-times, omit entirely what they did for a living. Beyond their occupation, what was their passion in life? Their mission? Purpose? What should we REMEMBER! Kindness will more than suffice.

The Lovely Lisa implores her husband to write his own obituary. Might start out with, “He tried.” Wouldn’t blame her from amending to, “He was very trying.”

Blaska’s Bottom Line: We recited classmate Patrick McCarthy’s remembrance of our friend: “He was always nice to everyone, he was a hard worker, he never gave up or walked away from any challenge. Leo was at his core a joyous person. He delighted in sharing stories about [his family]. He enjoyed his life more than anyone I know.” We need more Leo in our national life.

What would your obituary say?