The "Time Marches On" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Heading home from the Colemanville United Methodist Church in Southern Lancaster County where I went to pay my respects to the family of a fellow shop teacher, Charlie Graby, who died a few days ago.  Pretty little church tucked into the rolling hills near the Pequea Creek.  Off in the distance is their church cemetery which is meticulous groomed. I visited with the family before the church service so I could get a chance to talk with them.  Last night I called my Uncle John, who lives a few miles from the church in Mt. Nebo to get directions.  He asked me why I was going to the church and I told him about the death of Charlie.  He said, "Oh yeah, I read about that in the paper.  Did you know that Mary Lou was my cousin?"  I had no clue.  "Mary Lou was your cousin?" I responded.  "Yeah, I have lots of cousins throughout the hills down here.  Mary Lou was Charlie's wife.  Well, when I arrived I was shown into the church, signed my name in the remembrance book, and followed the line to the the front of the church where the family was lined across the altar rail, greeting everyone.  I imagine there will be lots and lots of visitors to share their condolences, since Charlie had a big family and was well-liked by many.  I introduced myself first to Charlie's oldest son and shared a story or two about Charlie and me and then followed down the line doing the same with his other two sons and his daughter.  One son told me I looked almost like his dad. Pretty neat compliment, really.  When I finally approached Mary Lou, whom I haven't seen in ages, she said, "Hi Larry.  It was nice of you to come."  "You remembered me?" I said.  She replied, "Sure."  We talked for a short time and then she said to me, "I wasn't ready for him to go, but I had no choice."  I could see the sorrow in her face, but she is a strong woman and with her family and friend's help, she will make it through this ordeal.  Talked with Hal, a friend and former shop teacher, who was with his wife Jeannie and had been waiting for me in a pew nearby, and then we walked to the lower level of the church to view a few of Charlie's wood-working pieces that he had recently made.  I said my good-byes to Hal and Jeannie as we left the parking lot to head home.  Charlie and I started teaching at Manheim Township the same year.  I was hired to teach in the high school while Charlie was hired to teach in the middle school.  We had similar stories to tell about our start in the Manheim Township School District.  I had taught at York Eastern High School and was tired of the long drive every day and had my brother talk to his basketball coach who just happened to be the department chairman of Industrial Arts in the district.  Had the job the next day.  Charlie had taught in Southern Lancaster Co. at Solanco High School  and his father-in-law, Mary Lou's father, was the grounds superintendent at Manheim Township.  He had the job pretty quickly also.  After our first year on the job, we worked together during the summer months doing repairs throughout the district.  Got to know a little bit more about each other that summer.  Charlie told me the story about how he met Mary Lou and their subsequent marriage.  Mary Lou was the secretary in the Industrial Arts office at Millersville State Teacher's College.  Charlie visited the office often to talk to her.  She was engaged at the time to someone different, but Charlie talked her out of marrying the guy and he and Mary Lou eventually married.  He being in the middle school and me in the high school, we didn't get to see much of each other except for department meetings once a month and our annual picnics at the end of the year.  Matter-of-fact, the last time I saw Charlie before he died was at the picnic last year.  Retirees are invited each year and Charlie and I had a chance to catch up on our families.  Charlie was a class act.  Loved his family and life.  Too bad he didn't have a few more years to spend with Mary Lou.  But, you never know, do you.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.