Short Story - The Messenger - Steve Murphy

Yesterday was the day we said good-bye to a dear old friend. I first met Norma in 1986, when I moved into the apartment unit adjacent to hers. She and Moe were long time tenants there. Our two apartments were isolated off from the others, we had our own street entrances, and we lived on a different street than the rest of the tenants. We shared a porch, where we often sat on summer nights (and maybe some winter nights too), chatting over a beer. It was our little corner of the world.

In 1989, I met my (then future) wife, Karen. We briefly lived in the small apartment there on Cottage Street, then moved to a bigger one a few blocks away. Still we always stayed close to Norma and Moe.

Moe passed away in 1993 in the same week that we moved into our new house. A month or so later we got married (this was all pre-planned). Our son born a year later and our daughter a couple years after that. Norma was officially entitled "Gramma Norma". She was full of love and adoration for them both and they loved her back.

Norma has always been a feisty one. Strong willed and had lots of opinions about things. She spoke her mind. She loved to get your goat (whatever that is supposed to mean). Well when she wasn't getting your goat or fixing your wagon, she was telling stories (often re-runs) about her large family.

She had no children of her own (with the exception of the strays that she adopts, such as myself and other assorted neighbors she has befriended through her tenure in the building - she collects friends easily).

She had lots of brothers and sisters and multitudes of nieces and nephews, and talked about them ALL THE TIME. Sometimes in person, other times over the phone as we were trying to get the kids off to school, or to bed. She had a hold on you that was often difficult to break from. I think it was because she didn't breathe in between words or sentences. As if conducting a Senate Filibuster. She loved to talk. This was an attribute that increased in intensity as she aged.

Norma's health took a turn for the worse in 2003, and she passed away on Wednesday March 5th. The calling hours and Funeral were on Saturday. It was a short wake followed by a Traditional Catholic Funeral Service, complete with full Mass. And here we were, finally meeting some of these people that we've been hearing about for over 15 years. Before being introduced, I was identifying them by name based on how much I'd heard about them from Norma. We talked about Norma, showed a few pictures we had, they were nice folks and it was nice to finally meet them, though unfortunately under such circumstance. We left the Funeral Home and headed to the Church for the Funeral Ceremony. We sat in the 6th or 7th row on the far right.

Now I was off on the far right. And there was no one behind me, nor to my right. And I was having gastro-intestinal issues. I was trying desperately to keep everything under wraps when a little one quietly snuck out and managed to get away from me. There was no way to sugar-coat this; I had farted in church. I wondered what would become of this.

Well, that 5-7 second delay before checking into quality assurance in the nasal system seemed an eternity! I was hoping there would be a light turnout, but there was something about the general feel of this one that had me concerned from the outset. Suddenly my wife's eyes opened widely and I knew that was not a good sign! It had registered with her first, which clearly indicated horizontal spreading. I did not want to take the chance of making eye contact with anyone, over the risk of encountering one who may have very good radar, turning to identify my guilty face before I would have a chance to avert. So I looked down and hoped for the best. Praying that Karen acted as a barrier and perhaps absorbed most of the impact.

However, uncomfortably shortly thereafter came the time to "offer each other the sign of peace". This is not in the form of extending your hand upward and bending down your thumb, ring finger, and pinky. It's extending your hand in all directions and shaking the hands of others around you. Still I thought that my wife and I were able to shield the rest of the attendees with our diligent isolation efforts.

Later, at the gathering afterward, at her brother's home, we were all around the table chatting, exchaniging nicities. One of Norma's nephews started a topic with "What I'd like to know is...", when suddenly his brother inturrupted him with "...well what I'd like to know is, who ripped one off right in the middle of the ceremony?". Well then Karen just ratted me out! Just like that. I couldn't believe it. (And here I was giving her all this credit!) I admitted that I could have been the source, because, checking the records I did indeed have a methane breach logged in the security report, but I litigated that I was seated 5-6 rows behind him. And I was way over on this side and he was way over there. Like, if we were Tampa and Miami, he was sitting somewhere around Montana or Idaho. So there were lots of other probable suspects in between us!

Well then more people started coming forth with corroboratory evidence. And there was overwhelming agreement that the arrival time was right around the "exchanging of the sign of peace". Through discussion that ensued, the critical path was reconstructed, and I was totally busted! The thirteen year old son of one of her nephews even went so far as to suggest that it might have been the cause of his migrane headache.

It was now becoming clear that the impact of my infraction was much greater than had been initially thought. Far exceeding the normal expected course as it appears to have hit all corners of the Continental US (and perhaps reached Canada and as far as Alaska, but this has not yet been confirmed because we have not been able to reach the Priest, Deacon, or Vocalist for comment).

What was it that caused such an extraordinary event? There is simply not an explanation that can be backed up by existing scientific theory. I am convinced that I did not act alone. I am sure that this was a matter of divine intervention.

Norma was watching down from above, and wanted to lighten things up a bit. To send some sort of "sign of peace", speaking through an interpreter of course. Or perhaps it was the "I'm ascending into heaven" equivalent of Wheel of Fortune's "lovely parting gift".

Whatever her reason, I'm sure, through years of living in such close proximity, that she was well aware of my unique blend and impressive reach. So there I was. She initiated a northwesterly draft and (well... I don't need to get into the technical description of the rest but we all now know what then happened). She effectively channeled her message through me (like Whoopie Goldberg in Ghost).

I wish I had known then all that I know now. For I would have chosen to view the destiny of the supernatural act. I'd imagine it would have resembled the path of an atomic bomb blast, an outwardly expanding ripple of heads darting left to right. Naturally, I would have mimicked the "I didn't do it" motion, in order to exclude myself from suspicion. And then I just might have mustered up the nerve to turn to the casket and say "Hey Norma? Was that you?".

Respectfully submitted in Loving Memory of Norma,

Steve Murphy