Jane writes:

[account of Jane's grandma's funeral snipped]

] Anyhow, after the reception, I left with Chris and we went to
] the Dodger for a few pints. Alexis and her boyfriend came
] down too and I got royally impaired. I mean royally.

That having been said . . .

This raises the interesting question concerning the appropriate place of booze at funerals, memorial services, or what have you. Personally, I think booze ought to play a central role in any memorial rite that's intended to do justice to the memory of the deceased, especially if the deceased enjoyed the pleasures life has to give, one of the foremost being drink.

A few years ago I was asked by my dad, who lives several hundred miles away, to act as the family emissary at the wake of a man with whom my father had worked for thirty-some years. I wasn't exactly eager to play the role, but I felt a sense of duty (having developed some respect for the dead guy myself), so I shined my shoes, put on my dark pin-striped suit, and headed into the city to the house where the wake was to take place.

I arrived early and was greeted at the door by the grieving widow. To describe the setting as a downer would be an understatement. There was food laid out, most likely provided by a caterer, and, best of all, plenty of wine. But everyone there was so damn sober and humorless.

As the guests began to arrive, as conservatively suited as myself, I began to eat more of the food and drink more of the wine. I saw some children of the dead guy whom I hadn't seen in twenty years. There came a certain point during the wake, though, when the atmosphere changed from mournful to celebratory. Enough wine had been consumed, and neglected acquaintances re-established, that the occasion became less one to mourn the passing of a good friend but one to celebrate his achievements, not the least of which was his basic humanity and dignity.

Anyway, there came a point later that evening, when the wine was flowing, that the son-in-law of the deceased went into the dead guys study and put a jazz record on the stereo. Then things really became relaxed. This "wake" became a party. I found myself having a hell of a good time. Before I left, this son-in-law approached me and said, "You know, I think my father-in-law would have preferred that we all get together and have a party in his memory rather than get together and mourn," or words to that effect.

And he was exactly right. The best way to pay tribute to someone who has died is by remembering him or her for the good times and having a good party in his or her memory. I should wish for no better for my own wake.

Kev