We take the Greyhound down on friday heading South to attend my grandmothers funeral. A week ago i saw her silent, mute deaf blind . For ten years her memory betrayed her . She would move to another nursing home until she ended up in the hospital , where she lived for three years. I let other people speak for me at the funeral. The eulogy was awkard. It did not give credit to my Grandmothers work on the farm or in the war as a member of W.A.C. Acts of great heroism were preformed by Prarie farmwives and War Relief Workers. They involved nesscary acts of service kept quioet by complacency. They did not grow the grain or kill the Nazis but an army and a farmer live on their stoamch. They made arms, nursed the wounded, kept hungry under rations, they cooked and cleaned and raised children often under crushing lonliness. They settled accounts and kept bankers at bay. They made sure the animals were tended. they had harvest suppers and made sure the church was filled on Sunday . They kept everything in the hosue as wide and straight as the furrows in the field. An act that is much more difficult then most imagine.

After the funeral we made through the dirt roads to the community hall. The barns were still there and every so often a pumpjack. This was land for hay and cattle , the farther southwest you go in Alberta , the more cows and the less grain. The telephone towers have yet to be replaced w. fibre optic cables; To prevent eroison and wind stands of birch , spruce and pine are planted. Every so often you see a verdant patch among the yellow straw. The hay was baled and covered in polyethelne sheets, every so often you saw horses ( roans, arabians, palminos and most commonly quater morgans) Th
ere was even an ostrich farm . The sky was spiting rain and driving in my aunts van i saw a goshhwak .

I got to the hall and it was packed to the rafters filled with countless unknown family . The slab tables had plates of squares and open faced buns slathered in diced meat or egg. I have been to funerals and wedding teas and anniversarys in Sask., Manitoba and Alta. every time they had the same meal and it provides more comfort then you kn ow. I ended up fetching coffee and tea, bringing plates of sandwhiches from the kitchen. Once again more of a woman here.

In town we stayed at the motel. In Olds there was a high school rodeo and football game and everyone but us were rowdy and drunk . They were in there souped up trucks with peacock shirts. I did not escape from black and grey. Picking up a Coke from the supermarket kitty korner there was a notice about the funeral. It was supposed to only go to the post office and the drug store but it ended up everywhere. The legions flag flew half mast and the tacky little polyfab buliding was full when the funeral happened.

There was no minister , a family freind delivered the aforementioned eulogy. the famil;y had its only little ante chamber. The hymns were not grand but plain and practiced . Everyone who was a conrad seemed to be big, not fat or tall but massive and hulking , Like the Black Angus cattle that settled into the crests of couleees

She was too be cremated and entered beside her husband . Thank god that ghastly mechanism that lowered her to the fire was not used. There was no displaying of her body , no ashes in a magony finial or porcelian urn .

I got home two hours ago and this is constructed from scant notes and memory .