Notebook
January 18th, 2019 by Gary Osberg

My dad died fourteen years ago. We held a memorial service for him at Gethsemane Church in Upsala. Dad had prepared many funeral plans over the years, due in part to his decision to donate his body to the University of Minnesota Medical School. Also, in 1969 his doctors had told him that he had cancer and would probably only live another five years. He lived 36 years after the removal of his voice box. The soloist at the service asked if dad was a Elvis Presley fan, since all of the songs that he choose were on an Elvis album, Evening Prayer, He Touched Me, Amazing Grace and The Lord’s Prayer.

I was at home the Monday evening after the service when the phone rang. I answered it with a somewhat weary voice and the woman on the other end said: “We are looking for the family of Gary Osberg”. Expecting a sales pitch, I responded: “This is Gary!”. There was a long pause and I heard laughter in the background. I thought to myself, ‘I am not in the mood for this’. The lady came back on with: “This is the strangest phone call I have ever made. We have a floral arrangement for the funeral of Gary Osberg”. In a loud voice I proclaimed: “I AM ALIVE, IT WAS MY DAD THAT DIED! Where are you calling from?” The floral shop was in a city not even close to Upsala. She told me that she had checked with all of the funeral homes and churches in her area and had no luck. The flowers arrived on Wednesday and they were beautiful.

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“I walked for miles at night along the beach, searching endlessly for someone wonderful who would step out of the darkness and change my life. It never crossed my mind that the person would be me.” Anna Quindlen

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