William Carlos Williams’ poem, “Tract,” started insinuating
itself into my mind soon after the funeral possession left the Renner-Wikoff
Chapel & Crematory on South Philo Road in Urbana the other day and headed
off for Grandview Cemetery to pay our respects to Vietnam veteran and Veteran
of Foreign Wars Junior State Commander Ron Hubert. He had died unexpectedly in
Marion, Ill., Tuesday, Jan. 14, after delivering a speech about the Voice of
Democracy youth essay/writing contest he was so proud of working with and had
worked with for years.
“I will teach you my townspeople how to
conduct a funeral …”
But it
wasn’t so much the funeral I thought about that day. Like the poet, though, I
was thinking about taking Ron to his grave with a sense of dignity and decorum
that was deserving of one who gave so much to the community.
As the
procession pulled out of the funeral home, heading south on Philo Road, a few
cars pulled over to the right and paused as a sign of the respect that I
learned years ago. Others didn’t stop. Which was no surprise to me. Things are
so much different in many ways now than they were when I was growing up in
Southern Illinois. And Urbana-Champaign
is a much larger city than where I grew up and learned to pull over to the side
of the road until the procession passed, a show of respect for the deceased and
those losing a loved one.
When we
turned on Windsor Road and headed west, the hearse led us into the left-hand
lane — “See the hearse leads,” the
poet says — driving slowly, flags waving on the top of each car in the group.
Cars started whizzing by on the right side while some cars did pull off on the
south side, headed east. Looking ahead, I saw a Rotor Rooter truck stop,
causing the cars behind it to stop, as well.
Just beyond
the Rotor Rooter truck, a small Mass Transit District (MTD) shuttle passed the
possession — the driver in the car in front of me later told me he had called
the MTD office to report it. By this time, my father’s words echoing in my ears
with a “Pull ’er over, “ my drill instructor’s commanding voice filing the air,
“Road guards out,” and Williams’ poem running through my head, I’d had enough:
I drifted over into the right-hand lane, blocking any cars from passing the
procession.
Near the
stoplight on First Street, I glanced in my review mirror and was flabbergasted
to see a car dart in line with the procession to turn left at the stoplight. I
could only imagine how anyone could be in such a hurry.
By the time
we turned left on Staley Road, most cars were now stopping in the opposing lane
and pulling over to the side of the road. Even a semi-trailer truck stopped and
pulled over slightly.
I realize
that not everyone is in tune with showing this manner of respect for a funeral
procession, and in cities larger than Urbana-Champaign the custom may not
always be practical on some highways. Nor is it practical when there is a
danger to the traffic. But there was no danger on this day, no reason for not
stopping briefly.
Clearly,
Williams’ poem is from a different time and is to teach those participating in
the funeral, not those stopping along the side of the road. But pulling off to
the side of the road and stopping for a moment as a sign of respect is not too
much to expect when any of us are carried off to our final resting place, is
it?
And for his
service in our military, for his dedication in assisting veterans in many ways
and for his work with the VFW and the Voice of Democracy youth program (www.vfw.org/Community/Voice-of-Democracy)
that has been the hallmark of a national speech and writing contest that gives
students the opportunity to express themselves and earn scholarships since 1948
when CBS’ late Charles Kuralt was the first winner, Ron Hubert deserved a
little respect. To show him that respect would have taken only a few minutes by
pulling off to the side of the road while the procession passed.
All of that
and so much more is why so many local veterans and VFW members here and from
around the state and friends attended his visitation and funeral on Friday,
Jan. 17, to pay their respects and why it is right and proper to do so whenever
you see a funeral procession pass.
“Go now, I think you are ready,” William
Carlos Williams wrote in the last two line of his poem. I can only echo that notion
and hope you are ready.
