Nevaida again, after the funeral

Nevaida Reis

Suzanne asked me if I didn't think Nevaida looked like
Heddy LaMar.  I told Suzanne that these photos were
taken with a lens to make all in those days
look like movie stars.  This technique is out of fashion now.
Still, it is beautiful.

I saw lots of people at the Nevaida's funeral. I know that I only have a few minutes to visit with people I see at the funeral: an update about me to them, and then one about them to me.

So, in the light of that short window of time, here are some answers and questions that went on after the funeral as I said hello to people as they were leaving.

Q to Sheila Palmer: How did they catch your lung cancer? Answer: You won’t believe this, but the caught it when I went in for a colonoscopy.

Q to Erva Sherwood. Do you still have wheat stored in your garage? Answer: Yes, I will get some out for you if you want to pick it up tomorrow.

Q to Kay Bennion. How did you ever survive your downsizing to your new seniors’ residence? Answer: I spent a lifetime collecting things, only to find out it is only relationships that matter.

Q to Janessa Streets. Do you know my nephew’s daughter, Chelsea Bates. Answer: Yes, I convinced her to go ice skating a few weeks ago.

Q to Suzanne Truba: Have you read Michelle Obama’s "Becoming”. (I was asking this in the context of thinking about how Obama described trying to dress fashionably and Suzanne owning a dress shop). Answer: Yes, I loved the book. Have you read Jana Reiss’s “The Next Mormons: How the New Millennials are Changing the LDS Church.” Nope, I had to say. The time was too short to tell her I have read the reviews.

Now that is a report of the quick conversation went among those whom I have grown old with.

To eat, I sat at a table with Barry and Viola Street, Rob Woolf, Rick Henninger and someone whose face I knew but couldn’t place. He turned and look at me and said, “You may not remember me. Bruce Lee. Luke 2.” His Luke 2 made me laugh so hard. I continued with “And there were in the same country, shepherds abiding in the fields…” and he interrupted saying, “Oh, I don’t think I could say it all, but I do remember you teaching it to us.”

Yes. Thirty years ago.  I did teach those verses during singing time in Primary around Christmas time, and then the whole Primary did them for Sunday School, probably a few weeks before the holiday time. Everyone under the age of six learn 4 or 5 verses and the old kids had a long version.

“I remember the words, but even more I remember the melody, how you had us make our voices rise and then fall,” he laughed.

I said to him, “Do you know Brooke Melchin? Do you know he did a series of paintings about the Nativity?

“I only know him as an acquaintance and I sometimes see him on the LRT in the mornings.”

“Well, you two should get acquainted – him doing the paintings and you able to do the text around the Nativity.”

Bruce just laughed. I told him that I have always loved the kids in his family, so many of them. But of everyone in the family, I love his mom the best. Still as much as I liked her, I could never get Joyce to tell me how many kids she had. He laughed and said, “Natural or adopted.”

I said, “They are all the same to me.”

He said, “Thirteen.”

I said do you know that when she was in the process of adopting one of the new born babies to your house, the judge closed his books and then looked at your parents and said, “You people are the salt of the earth.”

Bruce said, “I didn’t know that. I do know that Debbie Dalton helped them often with the legalities that were involved in private adoptions.”  He went on, "You should have seen my mother making lunches for all of us in the morning.  Out would come the breadboard that slipped into the counter when it was put away.  On the bread board, thwap, thwap, thwap, out the bread would be laid.  Then the jam or peanut butter on the bread," and Bruce waved his hand as though he were spreading some on every piece of bread, "then closing them up -- she made lunches for all of us, every morning."

We talked a bit more about big families, him telling me that the Cuckows had 12 children, all natural. I think those days are pretty well gone forever, though Rick Henninger had been sitting at the table and although I don’t know how many had been in that family – I think double digits, as well.

I spoke with Viola Hudson. Margie had been sitting beside her and then Doug. I like to tease the women my age (and older) about second marriages, especially in the context of Nevaida having found happiness the third time around. So I did my tease. Viola only laughed. I usually say something like, I don’t know if I could run slow enough that someone could catch me. Even I laugh when I think of it.

Fiona Hasegawa chatted with me for a while. I asked her why she wasn’t wearing best jewelry to the funeral. She exclaimed, “Oh no, I keep that under lock and key.” You can imagine how hard that made me laugh. I told her I thought Bill should buy her something more to hide away.

I don’t have anything precious enough to put under lock and key. I have been trying to wear what I have – some pin or necklace that hasn’t been worn for a long time. For some reason that has made the days of my two-wheeled walker pass more quickly – just dressing up as though I were going out, though I only go from my bedroom to my computer with a few side trips to the kitchen. Runners on, but my jewelry is fabulous.

Well, I think Nevaida would have liked to have been in all of these conversations. But maybe not. Perhaps she would have pulled some people out and had them in a different room, practising some new song to sing.

I don’t know if this is the appropriate place, but I want to say something about families who invite loved ones and acquaintances to share food after a funeral. Not only is the act generous, but it brings a closure to me, though I would think that should have been possible in the service. To me it is a place where I can say to others, yes, I knew this person and everything that was said about her was true. I still have a tear spill down my cheek when I try to say, “Nevaida’s grandchildren sing the same lullabies to their children that Nevaida sang to them.”

Arta