Travel Blog

Friday I flew to Pennsylvania for my uncle’s funeral. I took an early morning flight on Spirit, and when the cart came around, I asked for a glass of water. The flight attendant said that they don’t give water out for free but that he could give me a cup of ice. I took the cup of ice while trying not to think of the philosophical distinctions between a cup of ice and a cup of water. Apparently executives, or accountants, at the airline had already done that for me.

We arrived early, I picked up my rental car, and made my way to Route 30. When I was at the Sun-Sentinel I wrote about this highway, which begins in the gritty streets of West Philadelphia, winds its way through the gracious Main Line, passes through stolid, Mid-Atlantic towns before entering the pastoral beauty of Lancaster County, where, at an intersection, I saw a horse-and-buggy waiting to join the traffic. I stopped for lunch and, getting out of the car, was greeted by the pleasant aroma of manure. Directly behind the restaurant, a dozen horses grazed around a patch of pumpkins.

Lancaster is a miniature Philadelphia, with redbrick row houses lining streets named for trees. The funeral took place at a congregational church in a leafy part of town, where the Trump signs seen along the highway were replaced by those for Harris. The service had distinct touches of my uncle – an imposing man not just in size but in voice, a deep baritone that served him well as a local sports announcer. The famous 23^rd psalm was interspersed with James Dougherty’s personal reflections on each line, an interesting and revealing touch. Two of his children gave eulogies; his daughter’s included an impressive litany of nicknames he had coined for her. Also, the fact that the term paper he had once written for her, on Latin American literature, had received an A. Hymns included “Amazing Grace” and “Go, My Children, with My Blessing.” At the conclusion, a pianist played “What a Wonderful World.”

A reception was held at the Elks lodge downtown, where mementos from my uncle’s life – old baseball caps, team photos – were displayed on a table. I had not known until I read his obituary that he is in the Pennsylvania Softball Hall of Fame.