Sorry I didn’t post anything for Thanksgiving (or Lewis’s birthday, come to think of it; but I did post Lewis quotes on Facebook all day). Wanted to get the two book reviews up, and… well, I’ve been melancholy.

It has to do with the death of my friend “Elmer,” I guess, about which I wrote below. Intimations of mortality. Who’s that bell tolling for again? I’ve never had an actual friend die before. I’ve had lots of classmates die (I have an idea, though I’ve never done the math, that my high school class has had an unusually high death rate, statistically). But nobody I would include in the small group of “friends” has ever died before. This is yet another validation of my lifelong policy of keeping my circle of friends small, so that funeral attendance will be infrequent and Christmas card lists short.

They held a funeral for Elmer down in Kenyon, on Saturday (correction: Friday). I was concerned that, since Jewish law requires quick burial, and Elmer was part of a Messianic synagogue, somebody had disregarded his own wishes,and completely cut out the congregation to which he belonged. But there were many members of the synagogue there, and his rabbi spoke at length.

And it was fascinating. Elmer’s nephew told a number of stories about him, and we all laughed without embarrassment. Because Elmer was never offended, at least by jokes about himself. He had once brought a vegetarian dish to a family meal, and his nephew said it looked like “pig scours” (that’s a term farmers know, but probably unfamiliar to you. I think you’re happier not knowing, especially if you just ate). Elmer thought that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

He was an electrician, and one day when the relatives visited, they observed that he’d suspended an electric stove top upside down over his bed, with the power connected. They asked him why he’d done that, and he said, “I was cold.”

The most moving story was one the rabbi told. He’d asked Elmer to come up to his vacation cabin and do some electrical work. Elmer had agreed to spend a few days there working with him, on the condition that there be a radio which could pull in his favorite talk shows.

When they were done, the rabbi asked him what he owed him. “You don’t owe me a thing,” said Elmer. “Consider it payment for all your good teaching.”

Shortly thereafter, the rabbi discovered Elmer was losing his house to foreclosure. He could have used that money.

He spoke to Elmer and said the congregation could help.

“No, thank you,” Elmer said. “Christ said to sell all you possess and follow Him, and that’s good enough for me.”

They said that when Elmer had the honor of carrying the Torah in the processional in their service, he used to do a distinctive dance—exuberant and eccentric, full of joy.

I think I may have had the privilege of knowing one of God’s holy fools.