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On the Carquinez Strait
A soft rain was falling as Seamus settled into his favorite lounge chair out on the back porch of his home overlooking the Carquinez Straights. It was fall and so most of the leaves on the trees had already fallen off and he had a perfect view of the Straights and Benicia on the other side. "Ah," he thought, "this is a perfect day to read the newspaper in peace and quiet."
As he settled in with the morning edition of the Contra Costa Times, his wife Agnes called from the kitchen,
"Seamus, would you be liking a cup of tea out there to keep you warm?"
Seamus grimaced, thinking that he wanted to be left absolutely undisturbed that afternoon, even by his beloved Agnes. On the other hand, a cup of fine Bewley's tea would be nice.
"Agnes, you're surely a saint! You must have been reading my mind! Yes, I'd love a cup of fine tea! Thank you!"
When Agnes brought the tea out to Seamus he profusely thanked her for her little kindness. As she set the tea, along with some cookies, on the little table next to the lounge chair, she rolled her eyes and said,
"Seamus, you are as full of horse manure as you ever were. And you only kissed the Blarney Stone that one time! A saint indeed!"
Seamus smiled as he watched Agnes return to the kitchen and wondered how he'd ever gotten along without her. Agnes was truly a good woman. Yes, she was a saint! But for the moment, rather than praying the rosary in thanksgiving for her sanctity, Seamus settled in to find out what was going on in the world.
After reading the international news and the local news, he turned to what some of the local Irish always called the "Irish Sporting News," the obituaries. He had more than a passing interest in the obituaries. Not only did he want to know who among his friends had died, he also liked to see where they were going to be buried. He may be retired, but in his heart he was still the superintendent of Saint Dominic's Cemetery across the Straights in Benicia. He was proud that his son, Conor, had taken over his job, but really, he was still the superintendent of the cemetery.
However, not only was it a quiet day at the Gilchrist home, it was also a quiet day at Saint Dominic's. Seamus saw that no funerals were scheduled again.
"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm, no funerals again! Let's see what's going on here."
Seamus then picked up the calendar he kept by the lounge chair and consulted his notes. He saw that this was the fifth day since Saint Dominic's had had a burial! What was going on here? He saw that the other cemetery in Benicia had one burial, but none for Saint Dominic's. He smiled to himself and wondered if this meant that Saint Dominic's was really having another drought. He thought back to that lovely Spring day shortly before he retired. Just as he was preparing to go and make his morning inspection of the cemetery, the phone rang.
"Saint Dominic's. May I help you?"
"Seamus! Scott Rogers here! How are you today?"
"Fine, Scott, fine! What more could I ask for? I have a lovely wife, four children, five grandchildren, and none of them have gotten into the clutches of the likes of you! Ah, yes, I can't complain. Now, Scott, what can I do for you? I haven't seen you in time and a season. Are you still alive and kicking?"
"Well, Seamus, It's been slow over here. So slow, that it makes me think of my father's favorite description of times like these."
"And, Scott, what would that be?"
"Well, when we were not too busy, in fact, when we didn't have any funerals, my father would say that we were in a drought!"
Hearing this Seamus started to laugh so hard that he started snorting.
"A drought? A drought did you say? Scott, that's great! I love it! I do hope, however, that this is not something that you would say to your families!"
"Seamus, what do you think?"
"Well, Scott, I can see you saying to poor Mrs. Malone as she comes in to make arrangements for her dear departed husband of fifty years, "Ah, Mrs. Malone, you mean the end of our drought! Can you imagine what the poor, old biddy is going to be thinking then? She ended your drought. Scott, really!"
With that, Seamus again roared with laughter and Scott giggled as he said,
"Seamus, how long have we dealt with Saint Dominic's? You know us better than that! You know that Higgin's is absolutely professional. We are not that kind of funeral parlour!"
"I know, Scott, I know! You're the best"
But now, some years later, Seamus again smiled as he thought about droughts and wondered if Saint Dominic's was having a drought. However, since his calendar said that it had only been five days since Saint Dominic's had had a burial rite, this could hardly be counted as a drought, even by Scott's standards. Well, he would have to talk with Conor about this some day.
As Seamus continued to read the Contra Costa Times, he drifted off to sleep only to be brought back to reality by the honking of a car horn. He looked up and saw a car coming down the road to his place. He wondered who was disturbing his rest, but his face brightened as he saw that it was his son Conor and his grandson Patrick. This would be a fine way to spend the afternoon. For Seamus there was nothing better than being with his family. For him this was, as far as he could see, the meaning of it all!
However, he had to get ready. He combed his hair so that nobody would know that he had been sleeping and he drank some more of Agnes' tea, all just so that they would think that he was just waiting to see them and not taking an afternoon nap. He waited with anticipation as the car drove around to the other side of the house. Soon enough he heard little Patrick calling out,
"Gramma, gramma!"
Agnes opened the screen door and threw her arms open, scooped up Patrick, smothered his with kisses, knowing that what he wanted was not a kiss, but some cookies.
"Gramma, do you have any cookies?"
"Cookies, young man? And aren't you even going to be giving your grandmother a kiss?"
"Oh, Gramma!"
With that Patrick kissed his grandmother as Conor came in the door. He kissed his mother and asked,
"Ma, how are you?"
"Fine, Conor, fine. I can't complain. God has been good to me! Yes, He has been very good to me!"
"Where's Pa?"
"Out on the back porch. But be careful, I suspect that he has been sleeping again. Oh, he'll deny it, but you know how your father likes to take his naps and then swear up and down that he has only been reading his newspaper."
"I know, Ma, I know! I'll be good!"
As Agnes was getting some cookies and milk for Patrick, Conor went out to the back porch and greeted his father,
"Pa, how are you doing?"
"Conor, my boy, fine! How are you doing?"
As Conor bent over to kiss his father, he saw the Times lying scattered on the porch. Knowing his father, and having his mother's admonition fresh in his mind, he asked his father,
"So, Pa, what are you up to?"
"Just reading the newspaper, son. And a fine day it is for reading the newspaper it is."
"Well, Pa, I would agree with you, but how can you be reading the newspaper if it is scattered all over kingdom come?"
Seamus turned beet red, knowing that his cover had been blown. So he quietly said,
"Now, Conor, you be a good boy and don't tell your mother I was out here sleeping. You know how she gets! She's afraid I'll spill her tea and make a mess or something foolish like that"
"Pa, your secret is safe with me, you can count on that!"
Just then Patrick came running out and jumped on his grandfather's lap, crying out,
"Grandpa!"
Conor smiled as he saw the way his father's eyes brightened seeing his grandson.
"Well, it looks like you two are going to have a good time together. I'll leave you for a moment while I go see Ma."
"Conor, I wanted to ask you about business."
"Yeah, it's been a little slow, but we can talk about that later. Mary had to work today, but she sent over your favorite Colcannon for us to have for dinner."
Now the day was truly perfect, Seamus thought. I have my wife, I have my son and grandson here and now this! Mary was a nurse at Delta Memorial Hospital, but she was as fine a cook as you could ever hope to find. Her Colcannon tasted just like what his Ma made back in the old country. The day is perfect! God is good!
As Conor went back into the house to see his mother, Patrick hopped off his grandfather's lap and looked out over the Carquinez Straights.
"So, Patrick," Seamus asked, "what are you up to these days?"
"Oh, not too much Grandpa. The same stuff, you know!"
"No, I don't know! What are you learning these days in that school of yours? Who is your teacher this year?"
"Sister Saint Patrick, Grandpa. Do you know her?"
"Do I know her? Boy, I knew her when she was smaller than you are. She and I speak Irish to each other. How old are you now, boy?"
"I'm nine, grandpa. You know that!"
"I know I know that; I just want to make sure you know that too!"
"Oh, grandpa....................."
"But you haven't told me what you are learning in school these days. What is Sister Saint Patrick teaching you?"
"Well, in religion class yesterday we studied the Works of Mercy."
"The Works of Mercy were you studying? And what would they be?"
"Grandpa, you know the Works of Mercy."
"I know I know the Works of Mercy, but I want to see if you are paying attention in Sister's class. Now what are the Works of Mercy?"
"Well, there are two kinds of the Works of Mercy Sister said..."
"And what would they be?"
"Let me think for a moment...let's see, there are the Spiritual Works of Mercy and the Corporal Works of Mercy."
"Good! Now what are they?"
"What are what, grandpa?"
"The Works of Mercy, boy! What are the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy? Or were you sleeping when Sister was explaining all of this?"
"Grandpa, I wouldn't sleep in class because I think Sister might wack me on the knuckles like she did to Tommy Smith when he belched in class."
"Tommy Smith belched in class?"
Patrick's eyes lighted up as he told his grandfather how Tommy Smith had come in after lunch and, thinking that Sister Saint Patrick was not in the room, let out a loud, sonorous belch. Of course, the class thought this was very funny, but Sister Saint Patrick was not amused as she came out of the storage closet in the back of the room. Tommy Smith would, for the rest of his life, rue the day that he belched in Sister Saint Patrick's class.
Seamus suppressed a smile at this tale and again asked Patrick,
"Now, what are the Works of Mercy? What did Sister teach you?"
"Well, the Corporal Works of Mercy are to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, to give shelter the homeless, to visit the sick, to visit the imprisoned, and to bury the dead."
"Good, and what about the Spiritual Works of Mercy? What are they, Patrick?"
"Well... the Spiritual Works of Mercy are to Admonish the sinner, to Instruct the ignorant, to counsel the doubtful, comfort the sorrowful, to bear wrongs patiently, to forgive all injuries, to pray for the living and the dead."
"Good, Patrick, good! You'll be a fine scholar after all. In spite of Tommy Smith and his hijinks!"
At this Patrick again started to laugh as he thought about Tommy Smith belching in class and especially how he got caught!
"Grandpa, can I ask you a question?"
"Of course you can, boy. You know what they say, the only stupid question is the question that you do not ask. You know that!"
"Grandpa, when Sister was talking about burying the dead, she turned to me and told me that I must know what that is all about. Grandpa, I never buried a dead person. Yuck!"
"What do you mean 'yuck,' Patrick? That is what your father does and what I did before him! We bury the dead."
"But, Grandpa, that's Daddy's job. That was your job before, but that is not a Corporal Work of Mercy. You got paid to do that, didn't you?"
"Yes, I got paid, but there is more too it than that. Yes, as you would be saying now, it is a little "yucky" at times, but there is more to it than."
"Huh???""Patrick, listen to me now. Your father, and I before him, run Saint Dominic's Cemetery. We bury the dead."
"Are you an undertaker then?"
"No, undertakers get the body ready for the family and after the Funeral they bring them to Saint Dominic's and then they get buried. Some people have called me and your father "gravediggers," we do a lot more than dig holes in the ground."
"Grandpa, how did you start to be working in the Cemetery?"
"How did I start in the Cemetery? Oh dear, that goes a long way back, long before you were born, long before I even came to this country."
"Really? Can you tell me?"
At this Seamus closed his eyes as tears welled up in them. Instantly, he was back in Old Dromod Cemetery in County Kerry, Ireland. Though so very many years ago, the death of his father Colm was as fresh in his mind as if it had been only the day before. With a deep sigh, Seamus told Patrick to sit down and the story of how be began to run a cemetery, how he came to be paid for doing the Corporal Works of Mercy.