Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Bagpiper, courtesy of GCFL

As a bagpiper, I play many gigs. Recently, I was asked by a
funeral director to play at a graveside service for a
homeless man. He had no family or friends, so the service
was to be at a pauper's cemetery in the Kentucky back
country.

As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost; and 
I didn't want to stop for directions. I finally
arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently
gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight.

There were only the diggers and crew left, and they were
eating lunch. I felt bad and apologized to the men for being
late. I went to the side of the grave and looked down, and
the vault lid was already in place. I didn't know what else
to do, so I started to play.

The workers put down their lunches and began to gather
around. I played out my heart and soul for this man with no
family and friends. I played like I've never played before
for this homeless man. And as I played "Amazing Grace," the
workers began to weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept
together. When I finished, I packed up my bagpipes and
started for my car. Though my head hung low, my heart was
full.

As I was opening the door to my car, I heard one of the
workers say, "I never seen nothin' like that before, and
I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."

Why can't men just ask for directions?

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