A Baby Wrapped In A Blanket

With the temps rising today, I managed to get out to Fleet Farm early this morning and get my vehicle thoroughly washed, and believe you me, it definitely needed it. Of course I made sure I kept far behind those cars and trucks which always seem to throw muddy specks of dirt on one’s car shortly after it’s been washed.

My first duty at office this morning, was to get some emails answered that had come in over the night, and then moved on to finishing up on sales research which I’d started yesterday, and by the time I was finished, it was the hour for me to drive over to a church and drop off a sympathy card for a woman who recently passed at the ripe old age of 96, by the name of Arla Jean Kemna, but I always knew her as Jean.

I’ve known her family for a number of years, but really didn’t get to know her until the time some years ago when she came up to me after a church Service and said, “Was your dad’s name James?”, which I then responded “Yes”. Well, that was the beginning of our little soulful chat about the time leading up to his death.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, she was the nurse on the floor at Mercy Hospital where my father spent the last two or three days of his life. She went on to say in an almost tearful fashion, how shaken she was at the time when seeing how much he was suffering, and also went on to say that in all the years she was a nurse, she’d never seen a human being suffer as much as he did. My only response was, “Yes, I remember those many months, and for sure I hope to never come across another person suffering in such a manner.” Keep in mind, he died way back in 1982, which was long before Hospice came into existence. The end-of-life drugs they have on the market now, didn’t even exist back then, so you can only imagine the endless days and nights he was in agony. Truth be told, it took me almost two years to get myself back to whatever one would consider normal at the time. Yes, after our chat that day, we became kindred spirits of sorts.

I purposely didn’t go to the viewing, and only because I wanted to remember her as she was the last time I ran into her. After reading her obituary, I came to the conclusion her life was also filled with sorrows, but even many more happy times which I guess we’ve all had to endure and enjoy over the years. I smiled to myself when reading in her obituary that she became famous for her coconut cream pies, which must’ve been similarly to my mother’s “to die for” lemon meringue pies. Thinking back, I believe those two would’ve hit it off well in another time and place.

By the time the hour of one arrived, we had 213 S. Tennessee under contract, and not one bit surprising because that home is about the cleanest and maintenance-free as you can get. There’s no doubt there’ll be those buyers who’d looked at it saying, “We should’ve purchased it when we had the chance.” Yes, that home is the best to be had.

With nothing involving real estate on the table, I decided to go over to the church I spoke about earlier this week, where their minister wanted me to play their organ the end of this month. They’d given me a key to their church, and that being the big red brick one at the corner of N. Delaware and 1st St. NE, which is the Congregational Church.
Having already been given directions on how to enter, along with getting the lights on and organ started, I headed in with my music folder, turned the lights on and got the organ running.

I must’ve been practicing for maybe fifteen minutes when I suddenly heard someone in the church, and when I looked up, there stood the office manager and coming up beside him, was their Pastor. Well, unbeknownst to me until that moment, their pianist had earlier this morning, sent an email saying she wouldn’t be able to play tomorrow due to illness. For whatever reason I can’t explain, those two were shocked that I happened to be there when needed the most, as well as my having tomorrow off at St. Paul Lutheran, so you already know that I just had to agree to play for them. They both insisted that what happened this morning with the time of it all, and freely willing to play for them tomorrow, was a Divine Intervention.

What was supposed to be a 20 minute or so run-thru of those songs for the end of the month, turned into a good hour and a half, and only because I had to find their accompaniment music, along with getting rapidly up to speed with their organ, but for whatever reason I can’t fully describe, I’ve been having this “feeling” of tremendous comfort while seated and playing their grand organ. For me, I’d freely say it’s offers the most beautiful sound of any organ I’ve ever played, which creates almost an honor for me to bring out its music. The way in which the nave and sanctuary was originally designed, also makes for remarkable acoustics. I’ll remain positive all will go well tomorrow morning, and especially knowing all of you will be wishing me the best of luck. By the way, their Services begin at ten.

I’m now compelled to share another interesting sight I discovered outside my office yesterday while I was up at the front scrubbing those wooden floors. I normally don’t pay any attention to people walking by when working on them, but for whatever reason, a woman walking past the front window caught my eye. I didn’t think much about her carrying a bag along with what appeared to be a baby wrapped in a blanket partially over her shoulder, but for whatever reason, I waited until she got past me to get a better look, and to my shock, she wasn’t carry a live baby, but rather a life-like doll, and the only reason I knew it was a doll, was because the top of its head was sticking out from that blanket. For whatever reason, that sight momentarily creeped me out. What’s next?

Tonight’s One-liner is: In these times, it’s no wonder that truth is stranger than fiction, because fiction has to make sense.

Related Property:
213 S Tennessee Ave
Joe Chodur

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