971. Funeral time

971funeral

(Dear Everyone, I have decided to finish this blog at story 1001, which will be on the 7th of July. Initially there were to be 555 stories – for no reason the number of sonatas composed by Dominico Scarlatti. Then I extended it to 1001 – the number of nights in the Arabian Nights. Then I extended it to 1066 – a number of significance to those who follow William the Conqueror. I’m not going to do the 1066 bit, and all that, but am going to stick to the 1001 stories. There are still 7 left to write!

The last monthly poem will appear on the 1st of July.

As for the weekly pieces of music: I had finished composing the weekly music up until mid September. So as not to waste them, from now until the 7th of July I shall post music two or three times a week, including the usual Wednesday.

The reason(s) for all this is that I’m tired. I have to move house on December 12th and haven’t found anywhere to go yet. This will be the 13th time to have moved in 16 years. I also have other things to do in life! and other things to perhaps write. The blog material will eventually be shifted over to my website at Stagebarn – where reside my novel, some short stories, an autobiography, and my plays and musicals.

Anyway – I’ve got to sort things out now. Here’s today’s story!)

Let’s face it; Giuseppe didn’t want to go to the funeral. His wife, Maree, said, “So why go?” But Giuseppe felt duty bound. Some sort of ex-colleague from Giuseppe’s pre-retirement days had passed on. Giuseppe wasn’t feeling too well himself, and wasn’t feeling too eager to have to sit for an hour or so in a cold church.

“With your poor health I wish you wouldn’t go,” said Maree. “It’ll be the death of you.” But Giuseppe insisted.

The funeral was at ten in the morning. Giuseppe arrived a good ten minutes early. There wasn’t a vehicle, a mourner, or a coffin in sight. He waited a while and then went back home. He checked the newspaper. Yes, definitely at ten o’clock, and at that venue. What a mystery.

The next day Giuseppe noticed something…

“Why,” he asked Maree, “is every clock in the house two hours slow?”

53 thoughts on “971. Funeral time

    1. Bruce Goodman Post author

      Thanks for that! I had my eye on trying to buy a house, but the one in mind got sold! I can’t get a mortgage so it will have to be a real cheap dump for cash! At least after 66 years of getting shoved around by greedy landlords I won’t have to move each time the garden begins to look good!

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  1. arlingwoman

    Bruce, I’m sorry to hear you’re stopping, but it makes sense. I’ll miss your wicked stories and some that just puzzle me like today’s. Do keep writing and composing, even if not for the blog world. I really liked your novel, A Passing Shower. Good luck with finding a place and getting moved.

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  2. Yvonne

    It’s understandable that you are ready to call a halt to your roguish stories, with all that’s happening in your life. I wish all of us could come over and help you find a place to call your own.

    I’ll miss the morning ritual of turning on the computer, impatient to get to your site. I may never bother to get up again after 7 July.

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  3. Shubha Athavale

    Oh Bruce this makes me sad and happy! I hope you find something that is just write for you – I mean where you will keep righting good stories and poems, and if ever you wish to come to Sydney for a holiday, you are welcome to our place……

    Liked by 3 people

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  4. Susanne

    I think like Maree therefore I like her. I understand the anxiety, too. You do have a way getting to the heart of the matter quickly and that’s a great gift.

    In the vernacular of my young adult daughters, “It sucks” that you’re leaving, that you have to move, that your garden is just the way you like it and you have to abandon it. I hope you find a cheap and cheerful “fixer-upper” to live in and never have to move again.

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  5. Cynthia Jobin

    I have been ill and not commenting for a couple of days, and what do I find when I get back here? A friggin’ funeral. I hate endings and goodbyes. Yah, yah, I know…everything changes. But when you stop this little blog, Bruce, you are stopping not only your own aggravation, but also a certain “je ne sais quoi” that has given a small community of us a certain familial, predictable daily encounter we have come to enjoy. At least I have enjoyed it. But I am tired, too; plumb tuckered out, so I understand. I wish only good things for you. Do find the time and space to write… some poetry, maybe. Wind at your back, my dear friend.

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    1. Bruce Goodman Post author

      I had figured that you may have been ill – and I was about to email – either you were ill or pee-ed off with me which is probably the same thing. The good news is that I still have a month to go, and am not dead yet! (I’m not going to disappear off the blog scene, and have a couple of things half in mind…) And at my age I’m starting to find “wind at my back” a bit of a recurring problem.

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      1. Cynthia Jobin

        Hoist with your own pétard! Whatever floats your boat, as they say in my country.

        (As one old one of those to another, I get what you mean. If you don’t already know what the French verb “péter” means in English, ask Eric.)

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              1. Cynthia Jobin

                After assembling a pie, my grandmother used to take the scraps of dough left from trimming the top crust, put them together and re-roll them into a rectangle so she could—with a bit of butter, cinnamon and sugar— make exactly these petes de soeur, to be baked as the pie was baking. They were considered a kids’ treat. She was several generations removed from the Quebecois ancestors so she just called them pinwheels.

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                1. Bruce Goodman Post author

                  Pinwheels is the name I know and couldn’t remember! So thank you! I couldn’t remember the name – and do prefer it, especially if it’s edible. Besides, nuns didn’t fart until after the Second Vatican Council.

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  6. Yvonne

    We have an election campaign going on here in the land of Oz. Our national broadcaster (ABC) has released this wonderful video of some of our illustrious politicians. I hope it cheers you on this day of gloomy announcements:

    Liked by 1 person

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  7. umashankar

    I know the pain of shifting homes. A little of me is lost each time I move. I have been dreading the day you will complete that number and it does seem rushing ahead to meet us. Only sevens stories you say? See you at the Stagebarn! Hope you find an abode full of warmth and serenity.

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    1. Bruce Goodman Post author

      Thank you, umashankar… I never mind the excitement of a new environment but it the weariness of packing and the frustration of never seeing things achieved come to fruition that get me down… 😦 The end is still a month away!

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  8. Eric Tonningsen

    You launch, I follow. Your blog disappears, I fret. I take leave and you reemerge, only to have me return and now – you choose to redirect. I feel as if I am chasing an elusive blogger, one who I much appreciate. I understand being tired and desiring to refocus. I’m there too, Bruce. When your WordPress sabbatical starts, know that you will have moved on leaving many sated readers. And when that date soon arrives, Vaya con Dios, friend.

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