As many of you know I'm a fairly religious church going guy, not that I don't like good scotch. A year ago I was "elected" chairman of the church's centennial committee and we've been doing special things over the last year leading up to today's big event. The day started with a wonderful service and was followed by a catered banquet. As the meal concluded a raffle drawing was done and the microphone opened to the floor. Being the centennial chair I was seated at the table immediately adjacent to the mic. The third person to the mic was the resident poem lady, Ruth. She lost her place a couple times early in the poem then suddenly collapsed, apparently of a massive coronary, and died.
I'm sure there's no place she would have rather been in or other people she would have wanted to be surrounded by when she went, but what an indescribable day.