Mr Gale’s Funeral

Fandango’s Friday Flashback-Wouldn’t you like to expose your newer readers to some of you earlier posts that they might never have seen? Or remind your long term followers of posts that they might not remember?

From my achieves- I actually wrote this in February of 2018 but didn’t post it until Halloween of 2018 I named one of the characters after my Aunt Irene. She would have approved.


We met to plan the final details for Mr. Gale’s Funeral in a spot behind the Gale Family home where Mrs. Gale had planted an extensive and lovely garden.

It was the beginning of fall and the leaves had just started to drop from the trees.

” Just treat it like any other traditional  Funeral, ” his wife told me  as we strolled slowly along the garden path. ” Flowers, candles maybe someone can read poem and can you recommend a Minster? I suppose we need one of those.”

I assured her I could see to all of these details.

” I am so glad to hear that Irene, this is such a trying time you know.”

” I do and I’m very glad I could help.”

Mrs. Gale leaned over and whispered into my ear. ” I am curious dear, how it came that you decided to become-” she was at a loss for the word which is not unusual in times like this.

I patted her arm. ” It’s the family business.”

Mrs. Gale  smoothed her hair which had been tussled by the light breeze and then walked over to her husband’s casket and put her gloved hand on it, somewhat cautiously. ” Oh Dear, I almost forgot. Music. Can we have music-”

The thudding and screaming resumed from inside the sealed casket.

” In case he starts up with that again ” sighed the soon to be widow.

Falling Leaves


Love Is In Da Blog 2020 Day 27: Find a song about love in autumn & Prompt for Day 28

Before he passed away my friend Ron and I were talking about music ( we were at a Mardri Gras Party  and music and food were the main topics of conversation )

He asked me who a few of my favorite bands were and I mentioned Glenn Miller- hands down. I was also a fan of the Andrew Sisters.

Ron’s face lit up- ” You know Glenn Miller’s music? ”

Absolutely I said, I grew up with Swing Music because of my Grandparents.

They not only played it on the radio and they played the albums, they also taught me to sing a bunch of cool songs from the 1920’s  and 1940’s and to this day I use sayings like  ‘ the Cat’s Pajama’s, Bee’s Knees, Moxy and Snap your cap in everyday conversation.

Back to me and Ron.

Ron was a young man in the 1940’s and I wasn’t born until 1964- but in that moment when we started to talk about music we were on the same page and it was the Cat’s Pajamas.

It’s a good memory, a fun one.

So here’s my pick  for Love Is In Da Blog 2020 Day 27-

Glenn Miller’s Falling Leaves.

Miss you Ron O.


Your friend,


The Caller

Fandango’s February Expressions #26:
Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t

If he knocks, does she have to open the door?

Does she have to let him in, offer him tea and a seat near the living room window

next to the fireplace?

That’s her favorite place to sit, there are Jade plants in the window and the radio is in the corner. The radio has an eye on the center of it’s face. It closes when the radio signal is weak.

It hasn’t worked for ages, she wasn’t even sure people used radios anymore.

Focus she told herself. Focus!

She needed to decide and she needed to decide now because she was sure he was

going to knock on her door and that he was going to ask to come in and of course the

polite thing to do would be to offer him something warm to drink, it was so cold outside.

She went to the door, she flicked the light switch and the pale warm lights from the ceiling winked off and her wall papered walls ( faded gold birds flying towards the ceiling, sad they would never make it she thought when she looked at it )  and her furniture and paintings of lakes and flowers painted by long gone hands winked out too.

Of course she didn’t have to let him in, she doesn’t have to offer him something to drink

to take the chill out of his bones. She isn’t responsible for his comfort, for what he wants or feels.

She put her hand on the door, it was cool to the touch- or maybe it was just her. She was always cold. She was always worried about not doing the right thing. Her hand slid to the door knob and she turned it just as she heard the beginning of the knock that she dreaded would come.

Thump. Thu-

She turned the knob, she pulled open the door and the empty Night stood at her door politely, waiting to be invited in and offered tea and a seat next to the window with her Jade plants and the radio with the eye in the center of it’s face.

” Why do you always come here, why do  you always come to me? ” Death asked the night.

The Night didn’t answer- it never did but she let it in like she always does and probably always will because sometimes when you are faced with darkness or you are darkness itself it’s better to choose to face it with someone you know then to face it with someone you don’t know at all.

Eternity is such a long time.