suburban life, America 2011

They were burying an old woman as I walked up and the two young men were poor workers. Their attitude toward their work insulted me. The woman appeared abnormally tall but it was difficult to tell with her laying  flat. The woman was buried above ground in a low mound up to her shoulders as the two workers were shoveling dirt over her chest. The woman's face was blue, like a choking victim, but the eyes were alive as she watched me walk up and I sought to intervene.

The taller man was about six feet five and strong looking like a baseball pitcher and he was disrespectful to me. I grabbed him by the neck in anger. His friend continued to pile dirt on the old woman.

The old woman spoke to the young man just before he confronted me. Still even as he relaxed a little I had trouble maintaining my grip on him as he straightened back. I am too old for this type of violence.

The old woman was an American Indian and the two young men were her Grandsons. After she spoke to me I helped them bury her up to her neck but I walked back across the pasture to my house before the end. Sitting on my back porch I could see the men finish their work but because of the slope of the land I couldn't see the old lady any more.

I went in the house and had two cold beers from the smaller refrigerator. That was the first time I have been in the back yard for a long time. Later that night the two men had a fire back there and were singing until dawn.