A Tale of Two Liberties

Last week I posted about the death of my grandfather in law. Well, we all gathered together to give him a proper redneck waking, which is to say, all of his children, grandchildren and greatgrandchildren came in from around the US to say goodbye and eat and .. get drunk. *raises brow*

So, once all of the family arrived, the babies were kissed, tears were shed, and pantyhose were bought, we got ourselves ready for the funeral. The two children, four grandson, and two granddaughters were put up front and then, we attempted to corral the smaller ones, however, this is easier said than done. But, that helped distract us from our grief, and since it was mostly family, we didn't really care that the baby did the backstroke on the carpet at her Bubba's feet. Nobody but the preacher saw her anyway.

Then it was the trip to the graveyard, over 30 miles away in my neck of the woods. Yes, I'm a transplant, having moved away from my old hometown to live with the love of my life, in another Parish, my mother is most put out. We all line up in our pickups, SUV's and all, and the sheriff's car gets in the front and turns on his lights... as do we, as this is a new law, put in place by our darlin gov. *frowns* She needs to deal with the real issues and leave things like lights during funerals and helmets, etc alone, but that's another blog for another day.

Anyhoo, as we leave one parish and head into another, yet another policeman takes over our escort. At the stop signs, policemen wait with their hats off and their badges covered, which is a very nice thing to do, and always makes me tear up when I see it.

The trouble begins when we hit the bridge leading into MY old Parish. Oh the joy! We head off to the Y that leads to the town that holds the graveyard that will be Joe's final resting place, but we don't go Right.. no we go LEFT. I say, in my sweet dulcet tones, "Why are we going this way? Does not this smart policeman know the way to Liberty?" (yes, I did say this!) Ok, fine, I yelled at the top of my voice that we were going the wrong way and the po-po was insane, are you happy? It did no good, but I felt better.

Like lemmings we follow him for over 35 miles over hill and dell through some of the most twisted pathways and pig trails that F-ville has to offer until you have to practically pipe in sunshine. We pass a sign that says: Liberty Baptist Church with an arrow pointing down the road to take.. the policeman goes right past it. Again, I point, again I yell, again, we follow, like dumb ducks, until finally we begin to see granite headstones. Then, I notice something about the church at the end of the circle drive. First off, Liberty Baptist doesn't have a circle drive and secondly, it isn't white with a steeple.

They've brought us to the wrong church. They've brought my pawpaw in law to the wrong planting place! OMG in heaven!! The horror, the humanity, the utter unmitigated gall and atrocity! The.. *snorts* Ok, I laughed. Yes, I did. See, the name of this church is Liberty Hill Baptist the name of the church we're supposed to be at is Liberty Babtist Church. Now, what's in a name you ask? Well, about 15 dollars worth of gas and 5 inches off the short fuse of our uncle's temper! I thought he and the DH's daddy were gonna whack that cop! Good thing there was a handy graveyard to bury him in huh?

So, we all turned around in the convenient circle drive and went back the way we'd come, more than likely giving the people we'd just had pull off on the shoulder the idea they we'd just chunked our deceased relative in the hole and ran. We did make it to the correct church and we did lay Joe to rest beside his beloved Mae.. and you know, I'm betting he laughed too. He liked riding round and this time he bought all of us along for the ride.



Comments heard after the funeral..

"Gosh the trip back didn't take long at all! "
"Why didn't we go back the way we came?"
"Where we lost?"
"Did yall see that dog and quail statuary? How tacky OMG!! I want one."
"Why is the cop in such a hurry?"


Give me Liberty or give me death, but give me the right one!

Jenna

PS: No, I did not shoot the sheriff. But my father in law shot the deputy (the finger)
PPS: Good news was, no goats in the graveyard this time. Or Emus. Or Jackasses. Did I mention this is the woods? Do I really gotta?