Matching tables and lamps where abundant, across from us was another set-up identical. Full grain leather, deeply and richly carved grape vines and oak clusters throughout the eight foot couch.

We retreated into the family owned funeral parlor. I was reintroduced to the cousins, then we milled about with the smokers as long as we could. We arrived slightly early, regretting not stopping for breakfast. She in a black dress, and I in my Halloween costume of Elwood Blues, the only black suit and white collared shirt I owned. We had left early in the morning, and drove straight through. That would be considered not only an oddity in Chicago, but may actually be a crime. I found it unusual that even people headed from the opposite direction in rural Indiana stopped and got out of their cars, and doffed their hats as the funeral procession went by. I grew up on Chicago’s southside, a mile east of cemetery row, a belt that stretches for several mile north to south packed with cemetery’s. The funeral was in a small town about 45 minutes west of Indianapolis. My partner and I went to a funeral for her uncle.

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