Naomi and the Undertaker

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Naomi and the Undertaker

If you lived in Basin, Wyoming in the late 1950's, it was if you
stepped into a scene from "Happy Days". Flowers seemed to bloom year
round, and children had those rosy checks that the artists of the day
seemed to capture on the covers of Post and Life Magazines. A peaceful
haven at the foot of the Big Horn Mountains where the breezes filled
the valley with the scents of wildflowers and pine. The town appeared
to be all that it was: peaceful, family orientated, with a church going
populace. The kids roamed the street without fear and played kick the
can and hide and go seek long into summer nights.

Like any small town, Basin harbored its characters. This story will
tell you about two of them, Naomi and Mr. Underwood, who was the
Undertaker for the city. His attire resembled a tuxedo whose tails
always fluttered when he walked around town. He was the original, "Man
in Black." He was as skinny as the scarecrows that dotted the farmland
down Orchid Road. His hands, badly crippled with arthritis, were gross
protrusions hanging from the sleeves of his jacket and his face was the
pasty white color of the dead. It seemed as if he escaped from the
ground himself so he could collect the bodies of the dearly
departed.

Mr. Underwood wore the fragrance of formaldehyde like most men of the
town wore Old Spice, but the very worst thing about him, was how he
would park his hearse around the corners, hiding it the shadows of the
cottonwood trees awaiting deaths knock at the doors of the gravely
ill.

If you were about to die in Basin, the whole town knew it: the little
kids, their parent, their grandmothers, their teachers, and the boys
down at the pool hall or at the Stockman's bar. The town's only florist
shop got ready for a big day. The long black death searcher couldn't
hide deep enough into the shadows to avoid being seen by someone. The
undertaker and his hearse made the adults leery, the children terrified
and even the biggest member's of the Basin Bobcat football team would
laugh real loud so people wouldn't notice them trembling

Naomi and Mr. Underwood were bitter enemies. He couldn't wait to get
his hands on the dark haired temptress, and she was bound and very
determined he would not get the pleasure of driving her to the funeral
parlor in his death-mobile. Her last drive would be in the flashy new
county ambulance that the Basin City Council recently purchased.

Naomi Belton was an old widow lady that went to our church. She dyed
her hair so black that it made midnight look bright. The rouge on her
cheeks so red they resembled those of a circus clown, but no one ever
said that to Naomi because she was "Money Talks" in Basin. There were
always rumors that poor Naomi became a kleptomaniac after her beloved
husband left his earthly home. No one said anything about that either
because she made up for any unknown or rumored sins she might have
committed by dedication to the church. Naomi was always doing the
Lord's work. She sang slightly off key in the choir, she sewed angel or
shepherds costumes for the Christmas pageants, she was the Chairwomen
of the Methodist Women's Circle, and Naomi was the biggest contributor
to church's pledge drives.

Now none of the locals understood Naomi's insistence on not taking that
last ride with Underwood, but she confessed to Minister Dan that the
worse day of her life was the day her dear husband was picked up and
placed in that ungodly hearse by that cadaverous looking funeral
director. Minister Dan, of course, relayed Naomi's feelings to his wife
Martha and she in turn whispered it to the ladies of the church-before
long the whole town knew of Naomi's feelings.

There was one good thing about Underwood, his customers always came out
looking better than they looked before requiring his services, even
babies looked more angelic after death than before. When people
commented on this fact while attending the viewings, Underwood
acknowledged these compliments with a listless smile on his washed out
face saying, "I try to get Mr. or Mrs. so and so as quickly as I can
after they expire, that way the decomposition is minimal." He would
masquerade around like a Broadway actor at these times, enjoying his
moment in the spot light, or should I say dark light.

The town of Basin was crisscrossed by small ditches that filled with
water released from the canal each spring. Lawn watering and gardening
were easily achieved by merely damming up the ditches that ran in front
of everyone's property. On hot summer days kids would build dams and
float stick boats down the ditches. One day my brother Buddy and I were
busy playing World War II using dirt clods as bombs and almost missed
the hearse. I was about to damage my brother's fleet when he became
absolutely silent. I looked at him and followed his eyes as he looked
in the direction of Naomi's house. We quickly alerted the other kids.
None of us could figure out how we managed to missed it, but there it
was, it all it's gory glory, parked around the corner from Naomi's,
hiding in the shade of her cottonwoods. We figured it must of skirted
around the bleachers at the ball park, hovered for awhile under the
willow branches and waited for Doc Forsythe to get to Naomi's house.
Then it moved in for the kill.

Even in normal circumstances the sight of the hearse made people
nervous. It was worse than normal though because only a short while
before we spotted the hearse at Naomi's, we heard the ambulance go out
on a call. We were all a dither now, knowing Naomi's wishes and all.
"Where did the ambulance go," we asked ourselves. "Why was there a call
today of all days?" "Why didn't anyone know Naomi was ill?" The answers
to our questions were not going to matter, that hearse was going to get
poor ole Naomi as sure as the Big Horn River rises each
springtime.

We kids, along with not just a few adults, hid amongst the giant lilac
bushes, that each April impregnate Basin with the smell of their
flowers. We saw Doc Forsythe exit Naomi's house, round the corner, and
shake his finger at the hearse. It was such an act of defiance that we
all held our breath. We were sure Mr. Underwood would quickly dispel of
the meddling M.D. Instead, he just drove the big Black hearse around
the corner and parked directly in front of Naomi's home. He opened the
door and exited the transporter of the dead.

He yelled, loud enough for all of us to hear, "Are you going to help me
retrieve the body of the Widow Belton , Doctor?"

"Certainly not, " answered Dr. Forsythe. "It was not my patients desire
to be driven to the funeral home or anyplace else in your hearse,
Underwood."

"But, my dear Doctor, " Underwood declared, "I am the County Coroner,
and in the absence of the County Ambulance, my hearse is the official
transportation of the recently lost. Now either you assist me or I
shall be forced to call Sheriff Brinkerhoff to help me expedite this
matter."

We watched as the Doc's shoulders dropped in defeat. We watched as they
removed the steel bedded gurney from the rear of the hearse. We watched
them wheel the gurney to the steps of Naomi's porch. We watched them
enter the house and watched them return carrying Naomi's body right
down the steps. We watched them lay her on that cold slab of steel, the
Doctor looking haggard with his burden; the Undertaker looking
positively alive with the touch of death in his hands.

As they were pushing the gurney towards the hearse one of Naomi's
neighbors, appearing quite faint, came up to the men and uttered,
"Clive is coming, Clive is coming."

Now Clive was the ambulance driver for Big Horn County. All the towns
people were very much in awe of Clive; you must be very brave to be an
ambulance driver. The neighbor spotted him arriving back into town as
he made his typical run through the main drag after returning from one
of his pickups. Clive was proud of his job.

If you've never seen an old undertaker move quickly, you should have
been there that day. You would never have believed how fast that
procurer of death could move. He literally pushed Naomi into the back
of the hearse, gurney and all. We were aghast with this show of
strength and even more frightened of the man. Mr. Underwood then jumped
into the driver's seat directly from the back of the hearse. He started
that big old engine, however in his haste to escape Clive and the
ambulance he threw the gears into reverse. Sure enough he got stuck in
one of those irrigation ditches in front of Naomi's house.

We all got so dang excited that maybe there was a chance for Naomi
after all, that we forgot we were scared and came out from undercover
and began shouting, "Clive, Clive, Clive!"

As the undertaker tried desperately to loosen the ditches grasp on his
tires, he rocked the old hearse back and forth, back and forth. Slowly
the gurney began rolling backwards, gaining momentum whenever he rocked
back and forth. Ever so slowly, the deathbed of Naomi Belton went
sailing out of the unclosed rear doors of the hearse. No one said one
single word as Naomi flew off the gurney and landed face-up smack dab
in the middle of the ditch.

Later, of course, after the hubbub died down, it was generally agreed
upon that Naomi Belton was the best damn ditch dam Basin ever
had.

Bobbie Kilzer Gogain.

Edited by: Bobbie Gogain at: 7/23/05 12:35 pm