1. Debbie and I hosted a word of mouth, informal party on our patio following the Celebration of Don Knott's life, the reception at the church, and the buffet dinner, drinks and invigorating socializing at the Inland Lounge.
I'm not sure how many people came into our back yard -- maybe between 15-20 -- but this party was also invigorating, a time for longtime, lifelong friends to remember Don some more and also talk about old times together, how things are going in the present, and have a chance to laugh and love each other.
As the evening drew to an end, a handful of us ended up in the best social space in any house anywhere: the kitchen, with a bit of migration into the living room which, thanks to the large opening between our kitchen and living room is almost the same room.
Gradually, our friends had to get going -- some had morning tee times, Terry Turner had a long drive back to Oregon on Sunday, Christy needed to see how Riley was doing -- and Debbie and I were alone in the kitchen.
Debbie summed up the day and the patio party perfectly: "This is why we moved here."
2. Immediately, in the time before today's service, upon talking with Paul Roberts and Simon Miller, and later, talking with Don's daughter, Beth, I knew today's service was going to go beautifully.
And it did.
For my part, I entered the relaxation/trust zone I needed to occupy first thing in the morning and maintained my residence in that zone throughout the service.
My attitude about being asked to officiate this service contributed significantly to keeping me in the zone.
Once I knew I would conduct Don's Celebration of Life, I felt a deep sense of solemnity, a sense of duty, of service. While I wanted to do all I could to contribute to the celebratory spirit of this service, at the same time, I wanted to be of service to Don, his family, and to his many friends gathered in the church today.
That I also read the tribute to Don that my lifelong friend Roger Pearson wrote, magnified my sense of duty -- I felt a welcome obligation to be of service to the nostalgia, love, and respect that animated Roger's most eloquent composition, along with feeling loyalty to Don and his life and our memories of him.
My hope is that I met these obligations.
I do know that it was my solemn sense of duty and service that strengthened me, kept me relaxed, and spiritually nourished me throughout our celebration of Don Knott's life.
A footnote: as far my participation in this day of celebration while being immune compromised, the church setting did not feel very risky. I didn't stay long at the church reception and I sanitized my hands as soon as I returned home.
The crowded Inland Lounge felt riskier. Before I walked in the door, I put on a mask and I made a beeline for the back room where there were fewer people. I went through the buffet line masked, sat at a table pretty much apart from the others and trusted the health of my table mates, finished eating, put my mask back on, went to the bar and exchanged a few fun words with Cas, and bolted out the door.
Then when I was with friends and family on the patio, I was outdoors, which is much safer, and, again, I trusted the health of the handful of people I yakked with in the kitchen later on.
3. So, wow!, even with this vitally important service coming up at 3:00, I couldn't resist reading more deeply much of the morning and into the afternoon into the novel, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I won't give away details, but this novel has become increasingly disturbing and unsettling to me the more the story develops. As Mikael Blomkvist and Lisabeth Salander dig deeper into the disappearance forty years ago of Harriet Vanger, they unearth more and more evidence of criminal depravity and this depravity makes its way to Blomkvist's own front porch.
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