Thanksgiving Day

I love Thanksgiving Day.  Of course, I never had to do the cooking or watch my handiwork consumed in the space of twenty minutes.  Nevertheless, there are some foods with which we stuff ourselves that are more comforting than others. Can you ever get too much mashed potatoes and gravy to be seriously uncomfortable?  Naw!  It can't happen!  I hope all of you will have a really nice day.

While you're enjoying it, take a little serious time to quietly think about how fortunate you are.  Try thinking a little outside the box for a change. 

This past week, I went to Shirley Toncray's funeral.  It was unique in that it was held at the Opera Theatre, a place she truly loved. Shirley's casket was in the orchestra pit, adorned and surrounded with perfectly lovely flowers.  Favorite passages from the bible were read and a number of family members and friends eulogized Shirley, as emotionally difficult as it was.  The recurring theme of each was laughter and fun.

As I listened, I thought about my first encounter with Shirley.  You know, her daughter, Carla, was in and out of our house because of her friendship with my younger sister, Mary.  I didn't pay too much attention then, as I was about twelve years older than they were and thought of them, primarily, as a bother.  I don't know that I remember associating Carla with Shirley, even though they were mother and daughter.  Anyway, I first met Shirley in the play Annie, staged in 1984.  With her slightly gravelly voice, she played the part of Miss Hannigan, the matron of the orphanage from which Annie escaped.  She, together with Greg Brock (as "Rooster," Miss Hannigan's con-artist brother) simply stole the show.  They were both hysterically funny.

From that time forward, I really do believe that every time I saw Shirley, she was in the company of her best friend, Rose Leo; and every time I saw them, there was something to laugh about.  I couldn't tell you a single subject that we talked about, but it was just always funny as it could be.  The laughter was infectious, contagious and wonderful.  Made no difference what sort of day you were having, troubles vanished for a moment, and if  you were not careful, you would forget them, the troubles, that is,  altogether.  And so it can honestly be said that Shirley Toncray and Rose Leo were rays of sunshine wherever they went and into whose ever life they so joyously intruded. 

While I stood there listening as the assemblage sang Amazing Grace, I thought to  myself that if any hymn ever described a deceased person more aptly,  I don't know what it could possibly be.  Shirley Toncray and her pal Rose, left behind for awhile, were not only amazing, they were and are embued with a grace the likes of which few of us will ever achieve.  They were the grace of laughter and fun and light heartedness; and of that grace, there is not nearly enough!

And so, for Thanksgiving, one of the things I will thank God for is my aquaintance with Shirley and Rose.  They made my life so much better.