Six Feet Up

His funeral home wasn't the friendly domicile I imagined it would be but I climbed the stairs of the brownstone and knocked on the door with the sincerest of intentions.

His name was Clifton Burr.  He was an older gentleman, obviously entering the winter of his life, a widower, but childless and without and family members to do any future undertakings.  He was looking for someone to teach, so I thought I'd give it a try.

"Hello," Mr. Burr said as he looked down at me.  He was much taller than I thought he would be.  For some reason, I always assume that elderly people are shorter than everyone else, that their bone strength is already on the fritz.  It had always been an unfair postulation of mine and I was never sure of where the bias came from.

"Hello, sir," I said.  It was all I could think to say in the midst of trying to understand the surprise I had over my prejudicial subconscious.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"I'm here about the apprenticeship, sir."

"You?" He looked me up and down, clearly uncertain of my age.  With my newfound insecurity, I felt less bad about my judgmental ways.

"Yes, sir.  That's right," I said proudly and stood up on my tippy toes, thinking foolishly that this somehow put me at least in the early Summer of all of this.

"You're a little young, don't you think?"

"No, sir.  I disagree with you."

He was insulted by the fact that we were still strangers and I was willing to announce my disagreement so clearly and with steadfast certainty.

"You disagree with me?  Do you think you want to introduce yourself before we get to our differences in opinion, Sally?" he barked.

"My name is not Sally, sir.  My name is Samantha.  I am more than qualified for this position," I said as I looked over his shoulder, noticing that there were no other candidates in sight.  "Are you sure you're in a position to be so picky, sir?"

"Listen, Sally, you're a little young," he said and he started to shut the door.

"Listen, Skippy, you're a little old," I sparred back.

"What do you know about death, kid?" he asked of me.  This made me very sad.  We were a judgmental bunch, human beings, with our early formed opinions about things we knew nothing about.

"About as much as you, sir." I said.

"How do you figure?" he asked with a smirk.

"We're both above ground, aren't we?" I said.

He smiled at this and he considered the fearlessness in my statement.

He was impressed enough to let me in, if only for the conversation.