
There is a time to weep and a time to laugh.
—Ecclesiastes
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Last Sunday I got a notice from Mailchimp, my blog’s pesky robotic email manager.
“Unsubscribed!”
It happens. Five or six times a year. Usually the reason given is: None. But sometimes reasons are given: No longer interested. Too political. Downsizing inbox. Offends my faith.
The one last Sunday said: Deceased.
And that shook me. A first. And weird. Who submitted that? How long had the deceased been deceased?
The deceased was a friend of 50 years and a frequent commenter on my blog site—mostly affirming, sometimes admonishing.
ALWAYS IN CAPS.
(No, it’s not HIM!)
I googled my friend’s obituary only to discover that he died that very day.
That’s weird. Unsubscribed on the day of his death?! Does Mailchimp track deaths?
George was born in Shepherdstown in 1930. He was 95 when he died at his home in South Carolina.
He attended Shepherdstown’s elementary, junior high, and high school, back in the day when nearly all children walked to school.
George graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in 1954 and served in the navy for 30 years. An officer and a gentleman. Yes, one of those.
He and his wife traveled a lot in retirement but eventually settled in South Carolina. He had two daughters, two granddaughters, and one great-grandson.
I met George my first year as pastor of the Shepherdstown Presbyterian Church in 1976. He wasn’t a member at that time but had been as a child. His Scottish family goes back to the founding of that church in 1743.
His mother, Maud, was one of my favorites—a stereotypical sweet grandmother. I visited her often. She was reticent but cheerful. I always left blessed.
George visited the church frequently. He made me feel welcome. A pat on the back from him was priceless to me, a young pastor, insecure, feeling in over his head, apprehensive about everything.
When his mother died, his visits to Shepherdstown decreased, but we still stayed in touch.
George was one of the first subscribers to The Devil’s Gift in 2019. Last year he asked if I would officiated the interment of his ashes at Shepherdstown’s Elmwood Cemetery.
When? I asked.
AFTER I DIE!



