I was a senior and still had never worked up enough courage to ask a girl out on a date. I was just plain shy. Add to that, if I wanted to call a girl, I risked having seven other families listening in on my conversation. We were in the country and still tied to an eight family party line.

The humiliation of trying to ask a girl to go out on a date with all those other people possibly listening in was a bit much. I hated using the phone.

The few times I worked up enough courage to ask someone out I received only rejections. That only added to the humiliation.

Even though I was smitten with them I couldn’t imagine asking any of the girls on my bus out. If they turned me down I’d still have to face them on the ride to and from school.

Then one day it happened. Someone told me there was a freshman who liked me and might go out with me. My first reaction was, “Is she nuts?” Then I worked up enough courage to give her a call. I attempted to dial her number several times before I finally entered all the digits.

I panicked when her mom answered but mustered up enough courage to ask if I could talk to her daughter. I probably wasn’t on the phone two minutes asking her if she’d like to go to the movie on Friday night. She said yes. I said I’d see her at six-forty-five, and I hung up.

Lord, I had a date. Now what do I do?

Wash and vacuum the car is what I did. I went through everything in my closet a few times to find something to wear. And finally I doused myself with enough English Leather to float a boat.

She was waiting at the door when I arrived. Her older brother was a friend of mine and I was terrified he’d come out and laugh at me for asking his little sister out, but he didn’t. I guess his mom must have been inside holding him back.

We drove to the movies and sat there glued to the screen. I was afraid to look over at her. Then I took her home and walked her to her door. She smiled and said good night before quickly disappearing behind the door.

There was never another date. She avoided me thereafter. Her brother never mentioned our date and I didn’t either.

Many years later my buddy, her brother, passed away and and our paths crossed again at his visitation. I thanked her for being so kind as to go out with me on my very first date.

She laughed and said her mother had put her up to it. She told her I was a good kid and she should give me a break. Well, she did, bless her heart. Thankfully, we remain good friends to this day.

While at his visitation the memory of the time her brother and I were locked up inside Harris’s Funeral Home came to me.

– Not by accident, we had been asked to be there. Our other friend’s father had passed away and his family had asked if we’d sit up with him the night before the funeral. (It was the father of the friend that knew I didn’t know shit back in the fourth grade.)

That was a custom back then - for someone to stay with a body until they were buried. It was referred to as sitting up with the dead.

We thought it was an honor to be asked and told them we would.

About 9:30 the night the visitation was over the family had gone home and the funeral director cornered us to inform us it was time for him to leave for the night. He winked at us, knowing we were young and as green as gourds, “I’ll leave things in your competent hands tonight, fellows.”

He walked us to the office and pointed out the fresh pot of coffee he’d made. There were also a pack of cookies and some snack cakes on a tray behind his desk.

“Young men, make yourself at home. I’ll lock the doors behind me when I leave and I’ll be back at seven in the morning to relieve you.”

Make ourselves at home in a funeral home. Hmmmm. What the heck?

We heard the key turning and locking us in for the night.

So we did what anyone would do in a situation like that. We went down front and stood beside the casket. He seemed fine to us. It looked like he was sleeping.

Have you ever been out stargazing at night and set your eyes upon one particular star? After looking at it a while it appears the star moves a little bit. It was the same for us while sitting up with the dead.

“Did you see him breathing?”

“Yep. I thought I did.”

“He can’t do that, can he?”

“I don’t think so. It’s probably an ‘ob-stackel’ allusion,” my buddy said.

“Yeah. That sounds about right.”

We stood there a while, then we sat on the front pew for a while. Small talk here. Small talk there. All perfectly respectful of course. After all, our friend’s father was lying nearby.

It’s odd how you hear noises that aren’t really there in a quiet room. Especially when that room is the chapel of a funeral home. A creak here. A pop there. Perhaps a door opening somewhere in the distance.

About midnight we found the coffee and cookies. We leaned back and propped our feet upon the office desk. Nothing to it. Just two guys locked in a funeral home drinking coffee and eating cookies.

The cookies didn’t last long, and the coffee had worked its way through.

It was time to find the restroom, so we began to wander around. The first door we came to was the casket display room.

There were all kinds of caskets in there. White ones, grey ones, bronze and wood. We felt the inside one. It seemed like it would be comfortable on the bottom if you had to be there.

“You want me to help you in?”

“That would be a no.”

The one over in the corner was closed. “Why don’t you open that one and see what’s inside.”

“That would be a, ‘Hell’ no. What if someone’s in there?”

There was another door at the end of the room. Possibly the restroom.

We opened the door and it was dark inside. After fumbling around on the inside by the door he hit the light-switch. It wasn’t the restroom. It was the preparation room. Bottles of chemicals, a stainless-steel table and sinks. We left.

After rambling around a few more minutes we found the restroom. We took turns guarding the door. Neither one of us wanted a zombie walking in on us.

Finally, we went back into the chapel and stood by the casket again. “I swear it looks like he’s breathing.”

“Yeah, but he’s not. Let’s sit down over there,” he pointed to a pew halfway back.

It was a long, long night. Neither of us knew how to make coffee and all the cookies and snack cakes were long gone. So we propped back in the pews and let our heads bob back and forth until dawn.

I can’t remember which of us heard the front door being unlocked and opening first, my buddy or me, but we bolted upright and were wide awake. It was morning! We were free to go.

The funeral director asked how things went, then he noticed the pile of cookies and cakes were gone. He walked over and began making a fresh pot of coffee.

“Do you fellows want to hang around for some fresh coffee or would you like to call it a night?”

He didn’t have to ask twice. We bolted.

I thought about that night we’d spent together nearly fifty years before as the preacher, his former neighbor and friend, conducted the service.

I thought about some of our exploits together growing up and couldn’t help but smile. He was a great friend and one of a kind.

Then I wondered if anyone would sit up with me when it comes my time to go. If so, I hope there’s plenty of coffee and cookies. A platter of Little Debbies would be nice. Maybe whoever sits up with me will stick one in my pocket.

(To be continued)

Larry Howell, band director.	Larry Howell and students.
Berlin Rogers. Biology.	Jim Fulton. Chemistry.
Mrs. Thompson. Librarian	Hilda Simmons. Art.
Mrs. Boswell. Latin.	Coach Bud Turner.
Class of 1970 sponsors and student leaders.	1970 LHS band.
Baseball.	Junior Miss contestants.
Party in the cafeteria.	rack team.
Wayren Dickerson, Jimmy Dolittle and Legan Kemp.

_______________
Rick Algood
September 14, 2021