Myrna's Musings

Myrna and The Funeral

Hello dear readers, it is with a teary eye and heavy heart that Myrna sits down at her faithful Olivetti to write this tome. Gunther and I have just returned from St. Olaf, MINN. after having attended the funeral of my dear Aunt Rose Adele Havidschidt. Just so that you’d know; St. Olaf was the patron saint of Norway. During his lifetime, Olaf Haraldsson was the King of Norway. He helped rid his country of invading throngs of Swedes and Danes. Deposed by a group of rebellious nobles, Olaf was exiled to Russia but returned to Norway only to be slain in battle at Stiklestad, Norway, on July 29, 1031. But I assure you St. Olaf is a lot calmer these days.
What a dear, dear lady she was. So unlike her sister (my mother….Bunny DeFord). In fact it was hard to believe they both came from the same womb. I remember as a little girl I’d often ask Grandmother why mother and Rose were so very, very different from each other. She never really answered but would just walk away from me mumbling something about long St. Olaf winters, Stravanski Vodka and the ‘Farshenflooken’ lumberjacks.
I had forgotten how simple things were in St. Olaf. The week of Aunt Rose’s service was Pretzel Week. How fun it was to watch all the monks from the monastery compete in the Annual St. Olaf Pretzel Marathon. It wasn’t that the race that was particularly interesting, it was the fact the Friars had to stop and eat Pretzels, drink two beers and dance the polka at each household that dangled Red underwear from the spinneret on their rooftops. Needless to say very few monks finished the race.
Mother finally arrived and joined Gunther and myself at the airport in St. Gustav. She had just flown in from Mexico City. Of course she wasn’t alone. She brought a handsome Latino named Santiago with her. I asked her why he had come, and Bunny said she needed him to comfort her in her time of despair. I told her that’s what family was for, but she said Santiago could make better Martini’s than me and besides there were other things. I didn’t ask.
The day of Aunt Rose’s service couldn’t have been more delightful. Here it was August 23rd, the air was a crisp -12 degrees. The family gathered at St. Olaf’s Lutherterian Baptispalian Charismatic Church. I was so pleased and surprised that the edifice was overflowing with those who had come to remember Aunt Rose. As I gazed across the congregants I knew that this magnificent lady must have touched some of their lives (and appendages.) You see, Aunt Rose assisted Dr. Tinskfa with yearly physicals of the football team. The mighty pipe organ began playing as the family was ushered in and seated at the front of the splendid little church. It was a truly wonderful service that was heralding the essence of Aunt Rose and her life. Bunny was clinging to Santiago appearing to all in the congregation she was indeed grief stricken, when I knew in actuality she had already kicked back two Cosmo’s and six Apple-tini’s and couldn’t wait to get her hands on the Communion wine!
Father Quagmire rose to speak as he approached the pulpit. Carefully arranging his vestments he began the Obituary. “Rose Adele Havidschidt, was born on October 13, 1929. An adored sister and beloved _ _ _ _”; I think there must have been a typo on his notes, because I know the next word ended with *UNT and was supposed to have been “AUNT”, but I know what the Father said; and I know what my ears heard; and believe me, it wasn’t-- "Aunt” Dear Rose would have laughed. After all …..with a last name like Havidschidt