The goal for Thursday, starting in Dallas, Texas (Joyce’s home state), was to arrive in Asheville, NC, in time for the Celebration of Life service at 3:00 at the Brooks-Howell Methodist home. Yesterday, the bad weather cancelled flights, and I was stuck in Dallas. But I met a friendly staff at the Wingate and had a great burger at the hotel (AA paying the first $12 of it). One has to accept “The Unexpected.”
Another 2 wake up. I set two alarms and woke with the first. I had managed to sleep in yet-another-time-zone (YATZ). I showered and reassembled my few items. I travel with spare underwear, meds, shaving supplies, and so on, for just these possibilities. I did not have another pair of pants or shirt (I usually pack a set, but this was a short trip and I had enough), but I was comfortable in what I had.
In the lobby, I waited for the late shuttle, which was packed with folks when it arrived five minutes late. Dahlia was next to me. A woman I saw the night before was also coming from Portland. We exchanged names and stories as we traveled back to the airport. We arrived and discovered this huge line for security, but then we walked over to another area, and there was no line. We entered and performed the usual rituals. We agreed to split up and meet again at the gate. This time, nothing was detected in my bag. I reassembled and did not see Dahlia, and headed to the gate. The seating was limited, as many people were sleeping at the gate. It was a challenging night for travelers, and many were unable to stay in hotels. I found a seat next to someone sleeping and quietly read things on my phone. Dahlia showed up later and found a seat. We would meet again in Chicago. Soon, the gate folks appeared, and I checked that I was where I was supposed to be and that my bag (still checked) was expected to follow me. Yes, it was. I had paid just under $17 extra to have a middle seat near the front, allowing for easy deplaning and reaching my connection.
I tipped my hat to Dahlia when she got on the plane in the last group. I watched the wonderfully made propaganda piece of the Becoming Led Zeppelin film, which covered all the glory and none of the hardship, and glossed over the sex and drugs. Still, it was a fun movie and fit the two-hour slot. I watched it on my iPhone using my JBL headphones and started before the plane took off. I recommend the film, but it is not an impartial journalistic work.
My plane in Chicago made a gate change before I arrived, which actually made the walk shorter. Maybe all that bad Karma I worked off yesterday would allow a more peaceful day. I found the gate and then walked back to the bagel place, where I got a Chicago-made bagel-like bread product with chopped veggies in the cream cheese and a small coffee. I had ordered a medium, but here in The City of Big Shoulders, nothing is served in medium size! I got a small.
I ate 1/2 the bagel (sliced properly twice, not once) and packed the other side (yes, you eat one side at a time, not one slice) for later on the plane. I got an aisle seat this time (when I made the connection, it was the last seat on the plane), and Dahlia, who booked just before me, had the window seat. Dahlia is a baker in Portland, Oregon, and we had talked about baking in the security line while we waited. She wrapped herself in a coat as a blanket and slept the flight away. I read and napped. It was about ninety minutes, and I was not ready for another movie. I listened to my newest music on my iPhone and my JBL headphones.
I enjoyed music by Of Monsters and Men, Teddy Swims, Frank Ferdinard, Benson Boone, Green Day, Cannons, and more. My favorite is the acoustic version of Eddie Vedder’s Just Breathe. It brought a few tears, as it suits both Joyce and Susie, but gives proof, I think, of how vibrant and talented the current singers are. While it is tempting to love the familiar sounds of Led Zeppelin, the Beatles, and Simon & Garfunkel, I recommend the new stuff. So, please consider this link: Just Breathe.
The last time I saw Dahlia, she was waiting for her bags. She waved as I entered a long queue for rental cars. It was at least in the shade, but NC was hot and damp. I met another baker in Portland on a previous trip and discussed the differences in flour usage between Portland and Las Vegas in detail. Baking fascinates me, and I enjoy speaking with professionals.
In Chicago, I saw another traveller who called out that he had made his short connection (his gate was a few steps away). We were all sharing our stories in the various lines and were all happy to get connections this time. It seemed a happy day.
I got a Ford Bronco and wandered the car lot, as I was assigned car slot #60, and the row started over at the other end. What?! However, I found it, and the gas vehicle drives sluggishly. Nevertheless, after using an EV, I think all gas vehicles seem sluggish. There are no gear changes or extra engine processes for EVs. It just goes.
NC drivers do not yield, and they do not drive as fast as Michigan drivers. I also discovered that slow drivers were mixed in with the NC group, making for a chaotic experience. Abiet, this is a small sample, but so far I have been nearly rammed by a pickup when trying to change lanes with room, and have been stuck in traffic jams three times. I found my hotel, and the staff remembered me (we had spoken on the phone when I was stranded in Dallas), and they were happy to see me. I changed into my suit and headed out. My ruby sparkle vest and pride tie added to the bright colors for Joyce’s Celebration.
(Leta and I get a quick photo in before the service)
I managed to find my way to Brooks-Howell and soon saw everyone. I waited in the Chapel and soon joined the family. The service was the regular Chapter with Joyce being remembered here and there. This was Joyce’s wish. The Pastor, Rev. Kelly Dotson, said that Joyce wore bright, with-a-message T-shirts. “Every shirt a sermon in its own,” the pastor said.
When Jesus stood in the synagogue and declared, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,” he was claiming a faith rooted in freedom, healing, and good news for the poor. Joyce’s life echoed that claim. Her ministry — from Cuba to Argentina, from translation booths to boardrooms — was guided by the same Spirit. She stood with those whose backs were against the wall, offering dignity, advocacy, and compassion.
Joyce was meant to be our liturgist today. I had looked forward to it because her voice was one of the clearest, warmest reading voices I’ve ever heard. Her words always came with presence, with purpose. And Joyce had a way of proclaiming the Gospel not only in Scripture, but in shirts, in stories, and in spirit.
(From an extract supplied by Glenda).
It was a great mix of a service and a celebration of Joyce’s life.
Joyce’s ashes and those of her cat were placed in the rose garden after the service. Joyce’s pastor. Rev. Stephanie Foretich-McKey joined Pastor Kelly in the service. From Pastor Stephanie:
O God, before whom generations rise and pass away,
We praise you for all your servants who, having lived this life in faith, now live eternally with you. Especially, we thank you for Joyce Hill, whose ashes we now commit to the earth.
May this garden hold her with gentleness. May the roots and petals speak of resurrection. May every bloom remind us that love never dies.
Receive her into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light.
Words were added to include the cat “Cutie” in the above (again, an extract from Glenda’s text).
We headed to a pizza place after various things were done. I chatted with Gene and nodded off in a chair as the hours of travel caught up with me while the family organized a few things. We had to wait for a table, but the food was soon delivered and enjoyed. We managed to take a group picture.
I was soon back at my hotel. I met Barb and will carry something for her in my checked bag. I was soon in bed. My colon was not happy from the travel, random food, and I soon had some moments that are best not described, but a mess was avoided. I was asleep and woke around midnight, and then a reflux hit me around 1 and was so bad it stopped my breathing for a bit. Not an enjoyable experience. But breathing returned, and I will discuss this with my doctor. Breathing is not optional.
Well, except for the reflux issue, it was a good day. Thanks for reading.
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