"Pack" Stories
At the funeral of Pack, our recently deceased neighbor, the pastor told this story:
At church potlucks, Pack used to pick up silverware when he went through the food line. Then, as men are known to do occasionally, he stuck it in his pocket and forgot about using it when someone either handed him silverware or he found it at the table. The silverware he'd picked up would often stay in his shirt pocket and go home with him.
On one occasion when the pastor visited their house on a Sunday afternoon, he noticed the silverware in Pack's pocket, and asked teasingly about it.
Pack's response : How do you expect us to ever get a complete set if you keep noticing it like that?
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Another "Pack" story:
At their church, during the summer, the choir does not meet regularly for practice and does not sing at the Sunday service, so music is provided by volunteers. One time the pastor asked Pack if he would be volunteering to sing or play something some time.
Pack said, "Sure. Any time On Top of Old Smokey would go with the sermon, I'd be glad to sing that."
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At Pack's funeral, for the very first time ever, I helped with singing this congregational song: On Top of Old Smokey. It's a good thing the words were printed right there on the program or I might have inadvertently gone off on one of the many adulterated versions I've heard. (It's Smokey, not spaghetti; snow, not cheese; true lover, not poor meatball: and acourtin' too slow not when somebody sneezed.) I'm trying to forget the more risque versions buried somewhere in the dark recesses of my consciousness.
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Pack's name was the first syllable of his longer German last name. If my first name had been Otto, as his was, I think "Pack" would have suited me just fine. Everyone called him Pack, but it took the new pastor a while to figure out where the strange name came from.
*****************************
After the fall of the Berlin Wall, Pack and his wife were on a visit to a city in East Germany. On the morning before they were to fly back to Kansas, they decided to look in the phone book to see if anyone in that city had the same last name as theirs. They found the name and called that person. It was a cousin of Pack's, and the contact was the first of many subsequent delightful contacts and a few precious visits.
At church potlucks, Pack used to pick up silverware when he went through the food line. Then, as men are known to do occasionally, he stuck it in his pocket and forgot about using it when someone either handed him silverware or he found it at the table. The silverware he'd picked up would often stay in his shirt pocket and go home with him.
On one occasion when the pastor visited their house on a Sunday afternoon, he noticed the silverware in Pack's pocket, and asked teasingly about it.
Pack's response : How do you expect us to ever get a complete set if you keep noticing it like that?
******************************
Another "Pack" story:
At their church, during the summer, the choir does not meet regularly for practice and does not sing at the Sunday service, so music is provided by volunteers. One time the pastor asked Pack if he would be volunteering to sing or play something some time.
Pack said, "Sure. Any time On Top of Old Smokey would go with the sermon, I'd be glad to sing that."
*****************************
At Pack's funeral, for the very first time ever, I helped with singing this congregational song: On Top of Old Smokey. It's a good thing the words were printed right there on the program or I might have inadvertently gone off on one of the many adulterated versions I've heard. (It's Smokey, not spaghetti; snow, not cheese; true lover, not poor meatball: and acourtin' too slow not when somebody sneezed.) I'm trying to forget the more risque versions buried somewhere in the dark recesses of my consciousness.
*****************************
Pack's name was the first syllable of his longer German last name. If my first name had been Otto, as his was, I think "Pack" would have suited me just fine. Everyone called him Pack, but it took the new pastor a while to figure out where the strange name came from.
*****************************
After the fall of the Berlin Wall, Pack and his wife were on a visit to a city in East Germany. On the morning before they were to fly back to Kansas, they decided to look in the phone book to see if anyone in that city had the same last name as theirs. They found the name and called that person. It was a cousin of Pack's, and the contact was the first of many subsequent delightful contacts and a few precious visits.
posted by Mrs. I at
12:59 PM
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