Playing Miz Irma out

I knew Mrs. Sweeting's service was going to be at St. Peter's -- she'd been such a key parishioner in her 96 years, as a teacher when they had a school, and Sunday School teacher all along, and head of this and that guild and league -- but it wasn't till I saw Skipper scrambling up the street with his snare drums that I knew she was going to get a musical march to the cemetery.

Skip is about the size of the little fife player of yore, but he handles drumsticks as if he were tall as Bubba Low Notes' tropical tuba.

And with police lights flashing at both ends of our tiny block, they launched a spirited version of "Amazing Grace" as they carried Miz Irma out of the church for the last time and the big bell tolled, and tolled, and tolled, and tolled, and tolled.