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Goodbye Mr Magic Man,
as the girl in the story says, sounds like a good way to wrap up this service, but I must ask your indulgence. I have much more I want to say. I have at least one more story of Dad's I'd like to read. But first, I'd _really_ like to hear from more of you. Michaela has a story to share. I'm surprised and delighted that she chooses to speak here today. I'm not clear on the order of appearance of other speakers, and I'm not sure I've remembered everyone who spoke. There were not as many as I'd hoped. I hope that some of you who thought about what you might have said if you had gotten up to speak will write to share those thoughts. At some point Carolyn Curtis Peelle steps forward to tell how she had been a student of Dad's while she was an undergraduate at Middlebury College. I remember knowing her when I was 10 to 12 years old, but have not seen her in more than 30 years, although she has said some contact with my family since. Carolyn refers to Dad as a mentor of her who greatly influenced her critical thinking and writing. I think she also manages to impart a bit of Dad's humor -- but I can't think just what. Carolyn, can you help? Any other witnesses? Al Weisberg says that he can't promise a funny story about Dad -- he just has to say a few words for Mom. Actually I've forgotten what Al said. Al, can you refresh my memory? Whom have I left out? Please write and let me know of any omissions or errors you notice in my account, however trivial they may seem, so that your comments might help me piece together fragments from my memory. I am back at the lectern following almost every speaker, urging the next would-be speaker to take the stage. Let us not leave here today until the last funny story is told, I'll say in a dozen different ways. The last time I returned to my seat, Mom said gently, Keep it short, David. I know that this must be difficult for her, and I will try not to prolong it unnecessarily. But I have so much that I absolutely must say. Dad fancied himself an expert athlete. Ice skating was not one of his strong points, but that did not stop him from making extravagant boasts. He would toss his hat on the ice and announce his intention to retrieve the hat in his teeth while speeding past. Here I make a half-hearted attempt to mimic Dad bending his head to waist level, then quickly grabbing the hat in his hand and jamming it between his teeth before straightening up with arms outstretched as if to say Look no hands! This joke falls flat and I'm afraid for a moment that I won't be able to do justice to any of the sight gags I've planned. I have a little better idea how to mime my next role, since it's not Dad but myself that I'll imitate. Walking from side to side in front of my audience, I pace to the end of an imaginary diving board, then take three even steps back to judge my distance, as I prepare my oft- rehearsed jackknife. Dad had an uncanny sense of timing, and he loved to pretend that he had some critical and timely news he couldn't wait to impart. Just as I came down at the end of the board, before I could launch into my dive, Dad would cry out, Oh Deeds! Or Wait! as if trying to save me from making a terrible mistake. At this point I had no chance of stopping myself and could only hope to hold a little oxygen in my lungs, and most of the water out, before sputtering beneath the waves. I have one more of Dad's favorite antics which I'll mimic before wrapping up the service with my last reading. Dad was a much better swimmer than skater, and he had a butterfly stroke that was really quite spectacular. He would squat chin-high in waist- deep water, then from behind his back he would lift both arms together overhead as pushed off from the bottom with his feet and extended his body full length. That terrific kick off the bottom would propel his torso remarkably high out of the water. Before continuing with my last reading I'll ask one more time for someone in the audience to speak. Perhaps this is the point where Michaela makes her second, very brief appearance. Please refresh my memory if you can. For my last reading I've selected a story that seems particularly well suited to the props at hand. The lectern at the funeral home plays a central role, conveniently scripted as the lectern in Dad's classroom, around which much of the action occurs.
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