The Satraps Of Sneer

                                The Satraps Of Sneer

It was a solemn occasion, the passing of a friend. We were sitting in church, thinking of the vibrant person that he had been while alive. We didn’t really know many of his family. Ours had been a mostly professional relationship. I hadn’t seen him in several years. Still, we thought it proper to pay our last respects during his final service.

In the pews around us, a collection of friends and family chatted amiably. To many, this was as much a social occasion as any other. They waved an each other, blew air kisses and performed the “see and be seen” ritual effortlessly.

To be sure, there was many a Biff, a Muffy, and a Chip present. Others had been given odd sounding three-syllable family surnames that preserve the memory of their line. This was a gathering of the upper crust. Many wore the iconic trademark clothing of their prep school days, white cotton slacks, blue blazer and blue or white button down oxford shirt with rep ties. Old habits die hard amidst those who desperately wish to preserve the social status quo.

These folks, with all of their airs,  didn’t bother me. I had spent a lifetime in their midst and was immune to the proffered slight and casual sneer of those who thought themselves superior to the great masses. Time would run out for them eventually. And the money always disappears after a few generations. Let them wallow in their self-satisfied glow. It is a cold fire of self-aggrandizement that sheds no warmth.

The wonderful irony of the situation was that the decedent, who had married into this crowd, had an utter contempt for the shallow pretensions and artifice daily exhibited. He had been born into more humble roots and had a well-grounded sense of who was full of horse manure and who wasn’t. It was a sore spot for many who were ill disposed to anyone holding up a mirror to the pretentious.

The service rumbled on its ancient regimen until its conclusion. Three impeccably clad United States Marines folded the flag over the coffin and presented it to the family. The man had been a proud member of that elite corps of men. Three loud echoes, from a rifleman’s salute, echoed from outside the church.

We made our way out into the warm sunshine, wondering what droll and pithy observations the decedent would have had about those many who came to his going away party. It would make for a wonderful denouement of his “in your face” lifestyle. It brought a smile to my face. We said a silent prayer, hoping that no angels in the hereafter were dumb enough to take issue with him on any topic on which he held forth.

As for the sultans, we wish them health in a life filled with others sharing their peculiar attitudes.

                                    -30-

                               (486 words)

                       Joseph Xavier Martin