Bill Harrison and his memorial

This morning found me at the Church of the Holy Family for the memorial of Bill Harrison, whom we had known from St Phillips in Durham back when we went to church. I hadn't seen him for many years but have very fond memories of him. Mostly, truth be told, from when I was working at Aurora between college and grad school and he and his wife Mary would come in. It was, frankly, a hard time for me. I was still processing my parents' divorce, which meant drinking, smoking weed and general underperformance by most metrics except getting up with fine ladies.

One time during this period a guy from my high school class, initials BW, came into the restaurant. He was almost offended by the fact that I was waiting tables. "You went to Yale to do this?" Not helpful, jackass. He is pretty much off my list. By contrast, when Bill and Mary came in they were super-warmhearted and kind. They'd ask me questions about this or that concerning Russia or Russian literature or whatever, all I really remember is that they went out of their way to be positive and supportive, and obviously I remember it to this day and am grateful.

It was lovely to hear his children tell stories of him today. They were equally genuine.

The service itself though, I must say, surprised me in its stiffness and formality. Even perhaps relative to memorial services uptown at Chapel of the Cross, this seemed stiff. I've never seen Episcopalians cross themselves in church, for instance. Particularly in contrast to the more direct services I've been to at less fancy denominations, particularly the Baptist church uptown, which are a little direct. A friend said of the relative formality of Episcopalian services that the point is that we are all equal in the eyes of the Lord. Whatever. I ain't carving time out of my weekend for that.

But still, one must pay one's respects.