The priest looked out at the the somberly atired congregation in front of him. The chuch was almost full. He glanced over at the satinwood coffin. Must have been a popular man, he thought. Then he spoke aloud, "Thank you all for coming. And now, a good friend of Joe’s would like to say a few words." He stepped aside from the pulpit, and Dean Richards stepped up. They nodded to each other. Dean pulled a sheaf of papers from his jacket. He cleared his throat, nervously. He wasn't used to public speaking, but insisted that he would read the eulogy. That's how much respect he had for old Joe. However, it had not always been that way. "When I first met Joe,” he began, “I would have happily shoved him into a coffin and hammered it shut. I joined the company 15 years ago, and will always remember my first conversation with Joe. At first, I thought he was drunk, or on drugs. I introduced myself to him. His reply was strange but, as I would learn, so Joe. He said. ' Like apple blossoms, drifting on summer breezes- thus I am Joe White.' Although, somewhat, thrown off-stride, I then asked him what his job entailed. ' Workplace once so grey, the scent of pine and roses- summer has returned.' Then I realised that he was speaking in Haikus, an old japanese poetry form. I had taken a writing course a few years before and I remember the teacher saying how fuuny it would be to meet someone who only spoke in haikus. Well, frankly, at the moment, I wasn't finding it amusing. In fact, it was extremely irritating. "Weeks later, at the coffee machine, I was speaking to Jane." He acknowledged a middle-aged woman in the front row. "I told her how much Joe annoyed me. It was then that she told me all about Haiku Joe." The congregation became animated, as knowing looks and quiet regard passed amongst them. Dean shuffled his notes while he waited for the murmurs to die down. "There is no point me, telling all of you, what a wonderful man he was. We, who knew him best, will never forget the love and generosity that he showed for others. And, even I, came to enjoy and respect his quirky habit of speaking only in Hiaku. And I'm sure that even now he is confounding and amusing God himself with his poetry." Dean gathered up his notes, nodded to the priest once more and returned to his seat. The priest then led a procession following the coffin, (whos weight Dean was proud to help bear,) out into the graveyard. The service was completed at the graveside and mourners took turns in throwing a handful of dirt into the void of the grave, and then heading back to their cars, quietly reminiscing about the deceased man. Dean was the last one at the grave. He picked up a handful of mud, said a silent prayer and tossed it onto the coffin. He turned to leave, then stopped and looked at the shiny marble headstone. It read:-
Beneath changing skies Haiku Joe enjoys his rest- Forever in our thoughts
Chris, I loved the idea of this bloke who talked in Haiku and the funeral scenario works a treat. Just the time and place for someone to start thinking back on a friendship when otherwise it can seem an awkward convention
The hatchet job Kara did on the story I showed her sensitised me to the benefits of editing, so I'll suggest three bits that could go without weakening this excellent piece:
'Must have been a popular man, he thought.'
You've made the point already, with the full church.
'Then I realised that he was speaking in Haikus, an old japanese poetry form.
I had taken a writing course a few years before and I remember the teacher saying how fuuny it would be to meet someone who only spoke in haikus. Well, frankly, at the moment, I wasn't finding it amusing.'
- seems clumsy, as if there's too much back story. It would be better if the narrator just says he was irritated and it's left to Jane to say Joe is using Haiku.
The choice of Haiku itself is great -impactful because so unexpected, the association of blossoms and a workmate with the mundane name .
The other bit you could do without is the last line, partly because it's ambiguous but partly because I think the piece ends better with just the inscription.
You are right, the whole thing about the writing course should be taken out. The reason that is in there is because I wrote this for my last writing group and the tutor did make this comment, so it is just one of those "in jokes" I like to put in my stories. Of course, to the rest of the world, it is meaningless. I did mean to remove it, but forgot.
However, the end is something that I feel needs to stay the same. I think you need Dean's comment to highlight the error on the head-stone. Otherwise, I wonder if others may miss the irony.
Thanks again for your comments. If I knew of a way to edit posts I would make the changes you suggest.
3 comments:
HAIKU JOE
The priest looked out at the the somberly atired congregation in front of him. The chuch was almost full. He glanced over at the satinwood coffin. Must have been a popular man, he thought. Then he spoke aloud,
"Thank you all for coming. And now, a good friend of Joe’s would like to say a few words." He stepped aside from the pulpit, and Dean Richards stepped up. They nodded to each other.
Dean pulled a sheaf of papers from his jacket. He cleared his throat, nervously. He wasn't used to public speaking, but insisted that he would read the eulogy. That's how much respect he had for old Joe.
However, it had not always been that way.
"When I first met Joe,” he began, “I would have happily shoved him into a coffin and hammered it shut. I joined the company 15 years ago, and will always remember my first conversation with Joe. At first, I thought he was drunk, or on drugs. I introduced myself to him. His reply was strange but, as I would learn, so Joe.
He said. ' Like apple blossoms, drifting on summer breezes- thus I am Joe White.'
Although, somewhat, thrown off-stride, I then asked him what his job entailed.
' Workplace once so grey, the scent of pine and roses- summer has returned.'
Then I realised that he was speaking in Haikus, an old japanese poetry form.
I had taken a writing course a few years before and I remember the teacher saying how fuuny it would be to meet someone who only spoke in haikus. Well, frankly, at the moment, I wasn't finding it amusing. In fact, it was extremely irritating.
"Weeks later, at the coffee machine, I was speaking to Jane." He acknowledged a middle-aged woman in the front row. "I told her how much Joe annoyed me. It was then that she told me all about Haiku Joe."
The congregation became animated, as knowing looks and quiet regard passed amongst them.
Dean shuffled his notes while he waited for the murmurs to die down.
"There is no point me, telling all of you, what a wonderful man he was. We, who knew him best, will never forget the love and generosity that he showed for others. And, even I, came to enjoy and respect his quirky habit of speaking only in Hiaku. And I'm sure that even now he is confounding and amusing God himself with his poetry."
Dean gathered up his notes, nodded to the priest once more and returned to his seat.
The priest then led a procession following the coffin, (whos weight Dean was proud to help bear,) out into the graveyard.
The service was completed at the graveside and mourners took turns in throwing a handful of dirt into the void of the grave, and then heading back to their cars, quietly reminiscing about the deceased man.
Dean was the last one at the grave. He picked up a handful of mud, said a silent prayer and tossed it onto the coffin. He turned to leave, then stopped and looked at the shiny marble headstone.
It read:-
Beneath changing skies
Haiku Joe enjoys his rest-
Forever in our thoughts
Bugger, thought Dean.
Chris, I loved the idea of this bloke who talked in Haiku and the funeral scenario works a treat. Just the time and place for someone to start thinking back on a friendship when otherwise it can seem an awkward convention
The hatchet job Kara did on the story I showed her sensitised me to the benefits of editing, so I'll suggest three bits that could go without weakening this excellent piece:
'Must have been a popular man, he thought.'
You've made the point already, with the full church.
'Then I realised that he was speaking in Haikus, an old japanese poetry form.
I had taken a writing course a few years before and I remember the teacher saying how fuuny it would be to meet someone who only spoke in haikus. Well, frankly, at the moment, I wasn't finding it amusing.'
- seems clumsy, as if there's too much back story. It would be better if the narrator just says he was irritated and it's left to Jane to say Joe is using Haiku.
The choice of Haiku itself is great -impactful because so unexpected, the association of blossoms and a workmate with the mundane name .
The other bit you could do without is the last line, partly because it's ambiguous but partly because I think the piece ends better with just the inscription.
A couple of typos I spotted:
'atired' should be attired
'so Joe'- 'so was Joe'
'whos weight' - 'whose weight'
Thanks for this. A great start to Sunday.
Sheila
Thank you for the critique Sheila.
You are right, the whole thing about the writing course should be taken out. The reason that is in there is because I wrote this for my last writing group and the tutor did make this comment, so it is just one of those "in jokes" I like to put in my stories. Of course, to the rest of the world, it is meaningless.
I did mean to remove it, but forgot.
However, the end is something that I feel needs to stay the same.
I think you need Dean's comment to highlight the error on the head-stone. Otherwise, I wonder if others may miss the irony.
Thanks again for your comments.
If I knew of a way to edit posts I would make the changes you suggest.
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