When Michael died, the undertaker came to his mother’s home to peddle the casket and vault. Mother, who was 90, was a woman who may have still had her First Communion money, so I was well aware of her attitudes on spending. The gentleman took out a book to illustrate the vaults … those are the concrete walls and flooring into which the casket sets in order to prevent the ground from sinking over time. The first photo was of a vault sitting on the ground. It cost X dollars. The next picture showed the same vault sitting on an acre of green grass. And, this cost XX dollars. The third and final photo showed the vault on green grass with flowers and trees surrounding it. It was lovely and cost XXX. He assured us that no water would seep into this vault. Knowing that I was on firm footing with Mother, I said, “Let me ask you this: If water does seep into any of these vaults, is there any chance that Mikey will drown?” He began to stutter and stammer and replied, “Well, No!” I looked across the table and see Mother trying to hold her always dignified self together. She is ready to fall out laughing. Then, I looked at the poor defeated undertaker and said, “Do you ever embarrass yourself?” He bowed his head and said, “Yes, sometimes.” You know we took Vault #1. They got us though on this … Just after they picked Mike up and took him to the funeral parlour, the RC Bishop called me to ask if we would like Mike to lie in state at St. Lucy’s RC Church where he had served as Dir. of Music for a quarter century. You might imagine what an incredible honour that would be. The funeral home charged us $1000 to transport him two miles. It was money well-spent. Michael was an Immigration and Nationalization expert. The church was filled with clients who dressed in their native garb from Africa, the Middle East, the West Indies, etc. Mikey would have loved it.