I have a huge pumpkin head that looks like Tim, my mailman. I don’t know if Tim thinks he looks like the pumpkin. It’s kind of a hard conversation to drift into.

Hey, Tim how are ya? Yeah. Good, glad to hear it.

I’ve been thinkin’ – do you think you look like that pumpkin sitting on the ledge there?

Really? Hmm. I think you’re a dead ringer.

But I hear what you’re sayin’. The hairline is really not even close. Oh and I guess the cheeks are a little puffier than yours, and the eyes a little glazed. Ok, you’ve made your point, Tim. Just step away from the pumpkin. Forget  I mentioned it.

This pumpkin is the brain child of Ray Villafane, an educator and artist, who has taken pumpkin-carving to a Spectacular art. He also does sand-sculpture and toys. Check out his pumpkin photo gallery before you start your own, maybe you can capture your mail-man. 

Kathy Wood died March 6, 2013; I am pretty sure this is how that day played out.  

She chooses a cold sunny day in March for her first day in the hereafter. To absolutely no one’s surprise, she gets there before the coffee maker has kicked into service.

When she walks into her new digs she can’t keep from gawking at the truly spectacular view of the universe. She sits down on the couch, and stretches out her legs.  Leaning back, she closes her eyes and sighs. Good god, she thinks, what in the world am I supposed to do now? She sits there motionless for a few minutes, her eyes barely open. All of a sudden her head jerks upright, and she is on her feet in front of the French doors.

She opens the doors and unaccountably swoops gracefully into space.

She tilts way over to the left almost flipping over. But she sticks out her right hand and rights herself.  She glides to the left, then to the right and then straight up into the stars. She twirls and swoops and flips over in a huge spiraling somersault. She then tucks her legs underneath her and drifts downward.

OMG, I think I can visit anyone, anywhere, anytime I want. Ohhhh, thanks, God. That’s a really good thing you have got going up here. 

Her leg catches the door, she stops and steps into the house. She walks into the kitchen and opens drawers and cabinets all the while taking a quick and practiced inventory. She moves the kitchen table into the center of the room. She takes out her phone and speed dials.

Hello, God. This is Kathy.

Yes, it’s very nice to talk to you too.

Yes, well yes –everything is fine here. I’m lovin’ the view.

I was just wondering if I could get some baking soda, flour and a dozen eggs?

Oh, that’s great. Sounds like a good procedure. Thanks.

What did you say? Well, tell me  —- who else is on the committee?

Today we had a service for someone who said often and emphatically, ” I don’t want a service.” It’s not like we could have mis-interpreted– she said quite clearly that she wanted her ashes to be scattered at her parent’s graves in Montana without fuss, without bother.

But we simply couldn’t do that. We couldn’t help ourselves.

We came together and assembled a chorus to talk about how much she had meant to us, how wise she was, how good she was, how much she was missed.

And oh my, if you were listening, you could hear her say, “Whatever are they doing? I told them no fuss, no bother!”

A life well-lived exacts a toll. It leaves a wide swath of memories and experiences which are not easily exorcised from the people you leave behind. So we toast, we remember, we re-tell our stories — and, we finally let you go.

How do people do it?

Take great pictures, write good copy, Blog, take out the garbage, clean up after the sick cat, go to the store, fix dinner, water the plants on the porch, Blog, catch up with e-mail, stay in touch with new babies in the family, plan a vacation, Blog, take care of a volunteer assignment, write a reference, pick out a faucet, and take the car in for an oil change and Blog.

Oh, and then, gee whiz – add a family to the mix with kids who will not be ignored.  (And I don’t even Have that problem.)

I’m flummoxed.

I’ve been playing scrabble with my best friend for the last couple of nights and I have been beaten Badly. No, I mean BADLY. I am a reasonably articulate person, and it slays me that I can’t make better than 4 letter words most time when facing that Scrabble board.

I’m experiencing a crisis of confidence. And I can’t help thinking that it will end when I can play f.l.u.m.m.o.x.e.d. Wish me well.