Crossing Over


Last Sunday morning Zonk and I went across the river for the unveiling of Seymour's tombstone. We made it about three quarters over the Ambassador Bridge before the traffic backed up. While waiting for our turn at U.S. customs and immigration I mentioned that I had finished reading Hitchens' God is not Great.

"How was it?"

"Better even than I had hoped. Wish I'd read it or something like it back in high school." That was a bad time for me, repulsed by the idea of Armageddon, rejecting my religion, but still, in my nightmares at least, a believer.

The discussion moved on to Jewish beliefs about life after death and the irony of going to a religious ceremony for an atheist like Seymour. I told Zonk how Nettie had described the event to me, but couldn't remember the term she had used. Words often fail me.

As we got closer to the American check point it was obvious I had once again chosen the slowest moving line. Our guard seemed to be doing a very thorough interrogation of each and every driver and passenger, while in the other lanes a more cursory investigation was usually the case. After twenty minutes there was a shift change and a new guy took over the booth. We were next.

"Citizenship?"

"Canadian," we both answered.

"Where are you going?"

Good question. How should I put this?

"To a cemetery in St. Clair Shores for a procedure." I blurted out.

Zonk stared at me in horror. The official's face went blank. He paused, and then decided he didn't want to know, dismissing us with a wave of his hand.

We drove on. "He probably thinks we're going to exhume a body."

"Or raise the dead."

Despite the delay we were among the first to arrive. At 11 o'clock the rabbi called us together, about forty of Seymour's friends and family, and spoke for about ten minutes. Then he pulled the covering off the tombstone and we all went up and placed on it stones, flowers and other small items of remembrance.

It was a bright warm day. I was the only one wearing a suit and tie. Even the rabbi was in short sleeves.

Before leaving some of us walked over to the section reserved for the Workmen's Circle. On the edge of the cemetery was a Holocaust memorial, a crematorium.

Afterwards there was a reception at Toby's. Nettie passed around pictures. Most were from last year but some were from another time, of Seymour, Marty, Nettie, Bobby Hill, and CLR James. They looked very young back then, in the days of Johnson-Forest.

I told Toby about my procedure gaffe. She laughed and said Seymour would have approved.

By 2 o'clock the crowd was thinning. Zonk and I made our goodbyes and drove home.

Posted: Sun - July 1, 2007 at 07:25 PM          

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