Thanks Guys..it's appreciated..Now allow me to add a little (true) story...
Many here already know that I live in a tiny little hamlet in hilly farm country, a regular little Mayberry..except much smaller. I am the village blacksmith as well as the sexton (take care of the buryings, monuments, records, maps and genealogies etc) of the local Cemetery, for which we also have a caretaker (lawns, trees etc).
Here in town, news travels fast through the local grapevine network, so most knew by Sunday evening that I was taken to the closest emergency room that morning. On Monday evening my son, who lives next door to me, got a call from a good friend asking, " How are you doing? Are you making it through OK? My son answers, " I'm doing fine...but what am I supposed to be making it through?
After a bit of chit-chat it was established that the well meaning lady thought I was dead..
How could that happen? Very simple...
A funeral home from a small town about 20 miles away called for me in order to arrange for a cremation burial this coming Saturday, but thy could not get hold of me ..simply because they didn't even know that at that moment, I was in the hospital only 200 yards from their funeral home, and neither the wife nor I would be home to answer..
In desperation, they called the town clerk's office. The town clerk bless her heart, is a nice lady but easily excited. All her ears allowed her hear was my name and the word "cremation"....LOL
Sigh....All I can do is quote Mark Twain...."The rumors of my recent death are greatly overexaggerated !".
