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I love this story. Lay down what's bothering you, breath in the fresh air and LISTEN to this story.
Time is like a river. You cannot touch the water twice, because the flow that has passed will never pass again. Enjoy every moment of life. As a bagpiper, I play many gigs. Recently I was asked by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man. He had no family or friends, so the service was to be at a pauper's cemetery in the Nova Scotia back country. As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost and, being a typical man, I didn't stop for directions.
I finally arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight. There were only the diggers and crew left and they were eating lunch. I felt badly and apologized to the men for being late.
I went to the side of the grave and looked down and the vault lid was already in place. I didn't know what else to do, so I started to play.
The workers put down their lunches and began to gather around. I played out my heart and soul for this man with no family and friends. I played like I've never played before for this homeless man. And as I played "Amazing Grace", the workers began to weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept together. When I finished, I packed up my bagpipes and started for my car. Though my head was hung low, my heart was full.
As I opened the door to my car, I heard one of the workers say, "I never seen anything like that before, and I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."
Apparently, I'm still lost....it's a man thing.
When you have stopped laughing be sure to forward this on to others who would enjoy a good story.
I love this story. Lay down what's bothering you, breath in the fresh air and LISTEN to this story.
Time is like a river. You cannot touch the water twice, because the flow that has passed will never pass again. Enjoy every moment of life. As a bagpiper, I play many gigs. Recently I was asked by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man. He had no family or friends, so the service was to be at a pauper's cemetery in the Nova Scotia back country. As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost and, being a typical man, I didn't stop for directions.
I finally arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight. There were only the diggers and crew left and they were eating lunch. I felt badly and apologized to the men for being late.
I went to the side of the grave and looked down and the vault lid was already in place. I didn't know what else to do, so I started to play.
The workers put down their lunches and began to gather around. I played out my heart and soul for this man with no family and friends. I played like I've never played before for this homeless man. And as I played "Amazing Grace", the workers began to weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept together. When I finished, I packed up my bagpipes and started for my car. Though my head was hung low, my heart was full.
As I opened the door to my car, I heard one of the workers say, "I never seen anything like that before, and I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."
Apparently, I'm still lost....it's a man thing.
When you have stopped laughing be sure to forward this on to others who would enjoy a good story.
My parents lived in Laguna Niguel CA for many years including the "early days" when the area was mostly grazing pasture. I remember seeing Basque shepherds moving their huge flocks across roadways. Local roadways that used to be single lane rural tracks with nothing on either side except roadrunners are now gridlocked 4 or more lane traffic most of the time.
The man who posed for the older Dewar's White Label Scotch bottle labels in full kilt and sporran was a piper. He marched and played his pipes in the vast empty parking lot of what was locally known as "The Ziggurat"; a huge oddly shaped federal office building. Yes there is also another building with that nickname in Sacramento. In it's early days it was plunked down on vacant property all by itself and usually looked deserted. I think the Nixon archive used to be housed there. I remember doing sorting for the US Census there.
He wasn't bothering anyone, in fact he eventually had daily audiences. When the areas around the Ziggurat started getting developed and the parking lot filled up more and more, people began complaining about the Dewar's White Label piper. Some worried that he would keep business away. Others worried that a local attraction would be no more.
He wasn't bothering anyone, in fact he eventually had daily audiences. When the areas around the Ziggurat started getting developed and the parking lot filled up more and more, people began complaining about the Dewar's White Label piper. Some worried that he would keep business away. Others worried that a local attraction would be no more.
Isn't that the sad truth about expansion? Most all old, iconic things that are the fabric of a community are wiped away.
Isn't that the sad truth about expansion? Most all old, iconic things that are the fabric of a community are wiped away.
Yes. Over the years when I'd go back to visit the change to the entire area was sad. All the unique aspects were blotted out by mindless construction. All the qualities that attracted thousands of OC wannabees in the first place disappeared. Kind of like gnats or horse flies, those wannabees move somewhere else, expand the OC blight, and drag their problems along with them.
A poster child for that same area was a development ironically called "Sycamore Creek"; named for the massive, beautiful sycamores growing along a seasonal stream. The first things to go under the bulldozer after the billboard went up? Those sycamores, then the entire stream; drained, dredged, filled, and buried. Now it's just more slightly shabby townhomes identical to all the others. The right place for this IS indeed grief and mourning.
Last edited by Parnassia; 01-20-2019 at 04:44 PM..
I love this story. Lay down what's bothering you, breath in the fresh air and LISTEN to this story.
Time is like a river. You cannot touch the water twice, because the flow that has passed will never pass again. Enjoy every moment of life. As a bagpiper, I play many gigs. Recently I was asked by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man. He had no family or friends, so the service was to be at a pauper's cemetery in the Nova Scotia back country. As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost and, being a typical man, I didn't stop for directions.
I finally arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight. There were only the diggers and crew left and they were eating lunch. I felt badly and apologized to the men for being late.
I went to the side of the grave and looked down and the vault lid was already in place. I didn't know what else to do, so I started to play.
The workers put down their lunches and began to gather around. I played out my heart and soul for this man with no family and friends. I played like I've never played before for this homeless man. And as I played "Amazing Grace", the workers began to weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept together. When I finished, I packed up my bagpipes and started for my car. Though my head was hung low, my heart was full.
As I opened the door to my car, I heard one of the workers say, "I never seen anything like that before, and I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."
Apparently, I'm still lost....it's a man thing.
When you have stopped laughing be sure to forward this on to others who would enjoy a good story.
ROFL-I'm laughing my head off, I read it to my husband and he's laughing his head off too. We'll pass it along, thanks, Jamin.
Yes. Over the years when I'd go back to visit the change to the entire area was sad. All the unique aspects were blotted out by mindless construction. All the qualities that attracted thousands of OC wannabees in the first place disappeared. Kind of like gnats or horse flies, those wannabees move somewhere else, expand the OC blight, and drag their problems along with them.
A poster child for that same area was a development ironically called "Sycamore Creek"; named for the massive, beautiful sycamores growing along a seasonal stream. The first things to go under the bulldozer after the billboard went up? Those sycamores, then the entire stream; drained, dredged, filled, and buried. Now it's just more slightly shabby townhomes identical to all the others. The right place for this IS indeed grief and mourning.
Big Roller Developers!!! And they don't develop for the less thans with lower funds, they go after the mega million dollar people.
I liked so much about the story I posted but mostly that the homeless man was buried with some dignity and honor.
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