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<DIV><FONT face=Arial></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial>Beautiful. One suspects there are several wishes for
services like this going out to the families of members of this listserv
this morning. I know mine has. Thank you, Nancy Blake
Mills.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=Arial>Winston Kinch </FONT></DIV>
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<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial">----- Original Message ----- </DIV>
<DIV
style="BACKGROUND: #e4e4e4; FONT: 10pt arial; font-color: black"><B>From:</B>
<A title=MmmBlake@aol.com href="mailto:MmmBlake@aol.com">Blake Mills</A>
</DIV>
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial"><B>To:</B> <A
title=OSLIST@LISTSERV.BOISESTATE.EDU
href="mailto:OSLIST@LISTSERV.BOISESTATE.EDU">OSLIST@LISTSERV.BOISESTATE.EDU</A>
</DIV>
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial"><B>Sent:</B> Thursday, April 19, 2001 10:13
PM</DIV>
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial"><B>Subject:</B> Memorial service in OS</DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>Greetings,<BR>Synchronicity is amazing! I have been
planning to write about the OS service<BR>for my 92 yr. old mother on April 3,
01 here in Seaside, Oregon, USA and ask<BR>a similar question and/or note what
we did. Then up pops someone's similar<BR>thought. No, I don't
think it is morbid...death is another marker in the<BR>soul's
journey.<BR><BR>Here's what transpired. In the beginning, I
unconsciously started down the<BR>road to an OS service. I suggested to the
funeral director, the minister and<BR>my family, a circle with aisles at 12,
3, 6 and 9 o'clock, with my mother's<BR>casket in the middle. It was to
be placed low enough for the attendees to<BR>see each other over the
flowers. The minister was to have a battery<BR>microphone to walk around
with at the same level as the audience. He was not<BR>to be high up and
beyond, behind the podium.<BR><BR>I have to say my family, the funeral
director and the minister all humored me<BR>in my grief, probably since I was
the only family caregiver for my mother.<BR>However, there was some mild
resistance. "We don't have a stand low enough,"<BR>said the funeral
man. I persisted and said I was sure they could figure out<BR>a
way. They did. Four boxes holding computer paper with a swath of
tan<BR>material around it all, became the new stand. The casket looked
like it was<BR>floating in air. Very, very nice.<BR><BR>"We've never
done this," objected the minister, until I drew the OS floor<BR>diagram.
(that's when it hit me, I was setting up OS...I am a little slow<BR>figuring
things out!) He got the idea immediately. His next challenge
was<BR>to convince the janitor who was just putting the finishing touches on
100<BR>chairs, all neatly facing the high-up podium.<BR><BR> "You were
always a little different, sister-sue", said my family. They were<BR>the
last to convince. Maybe because I have my parent's Finnish "sisu,"
they<BR>did not argue long. ("Sisu" means tenacity, perseverance, or stubborn
beyond<BR>all reason). We asked for people to share, some planned it,
some were<BR>spontaeneous, some sang. I could not speak for the tears
choked my throat in<BR>grief, but, also, in the joy of hearing my mother's 9
year old<BR>great-granddaughter read a poem. Here it is:<BR><BR>"If my
boundary stops here<BR>I have children to draw new maps on the world.<BR>They
will draw the lines of my face.<BR>They will draw with my gestures my
voice.<BR>They will speak my words thinking they have invented
them.<BR><BR>They will invent them.<BR>They will invent me.<BR>I will be
planted again and again.<BR>I will wake in the eyes of their children's
children.<BR>They will speak my words."<BR><BR>From the book:
"Tamsen Donner: A Woman's Journey"<BR>by: Ruth Whitman (about the
tragic Donner party) I hope Ms Whitman will not<BR>mind me including
this.<BR><BR>We have a program of most of it and deep memories of the
undocumented love<BR>and laughter.<BR><BR>My sons now know my wishes for a
memorial service. Thank you, Harrison Owen.<BR><BR>Kindest
regards,<BR>Nancy Blake
Mills<BR><BR>*<BR>*<BR>==========================================================<BR><A
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