GW the I seems like he was a cool dude. I mean, the wooden teeth myth spread by Fox News back then proves he was adored, idolized, by many.

So, I went to the parlour, spotted the greeting line, shook hands with his five sons (didn't see the daughter), kneeled on the deeply padded bench, crossed myself* out of respect for Vic, said a heartfelt prayer with head bowed and eyes closed, crossed myself again, looked at Vic and said, "Thanks, Vic. Gonna miss ya, Bud." And hobbled (I shall not kneel again!) out with moist eyes.

I was home in jig time. Took me longer to get dressed than I spent in the visitation room (that happens when you ONLY EVER wear a tie to funeral parlours and funerals). Mum was at the back door checking on the mail when I got back so I went over to have a short chat. Mum asks, "Have you been there already?" "Yup." "Oh dear, I won't say what I was just going to say." "Tell me." "No, you might get upset." "Me? Upset? Huh? Tell me." "Well, you were back so quickly that I was going to ask, "Was he there?"" I roared with laughter. That's going in my short story about Vic and Bernice (Bernice died a few years back). Along with the mustard pickles, mason jars, cookies, tomatos, and others. I will miss them both now.

* Cat'lics have Dog on speed-dial.