Culture Shock

It wasn't my first Croatian funeral, but it was close.  I hadn't even been to that many American funerals, nor had I played solo trombone at a cemetary before.  So this was a new experience.  After warming up with  Amazing Grace to begin the ceremony, I waited for the small village procession to move towards the grave that had been prepared a few minutes beforehand.  Like most outdoor funerals I've attended, this one was overcast, muddy and generally dreary.  The blacks, browns and grays made the event especially dismal.  We trodded over to the tomb in a sloppy line and listened to the preacher speak.  His tone was pointed, but hopeful, his message short but clear - a stark contrast to the rest of the funeral.  It was my turn again.  As I raised my trombone to begin It is Well with my Soul , I heard yelling in the distance.  I hesitated, but still began the melody.  When peace like a river...

I mentioned in my introduction that one of the aspects of culture shock I would be facing would be that of having a child.  Two and a half years later, that child is, well, two and-a-half years old and we have another one-year-old.  I have made the following observation: The amount of time one has to blog is directly influenced by the number of kids one has.  It's a plain and simple truth that I've found to be true on other blogs as well.  To my followers; thank you for your patience.  There is more to come.  I will keep updating.  Just not as often as I used to.