Covid-19 and A Celebration of Life By Linda Starkey
Hot and humid. It’s typical weather down South in August when taking a breath makes one feel like one is drowning and any excess flesh manufactures rivers of sweat that pastes clothes securely to the body revealing unflattering rolls that might as well be naked. I reluctantly leave my husband and fur-babies. Having been sequestered in our house since March 2020, my car has not moved for three months. I am scared to be around people because I am high risk of dying if I contract this new-found pestilence on mankind called COVID-19. Even one night away from my refuge makes me anxious.
A trip to the beach is something I normally anticipate with excitement and enthusiasm. But this time is different. Because of the pandemic, nothing, and I mean NOTHING could get me driving to the beach by myself on a hot muggy day except this mission of final farewell for a man that put his own life in danger to save mine. I leave the B&B early for the short drive to First Baptist Church in Little River, SC. I don’t worry when I can’t find the church immediately. Afterall, ‘First Baptist Church’ in any southern town is usually the largest church around. But contrary to what it’s name implies, I have to ask directions twice to no avail. Finally, I drive back one mile to the “SC Information Center” located just over the NC/SC border but inside Little River’s city limits. All three ladies serving as South Carolina’s ambassadors of southern hospitality cannot, for the life of them, tell me where the First Baptist Church in Little River, SC is located. I’m late and agitated. In spite of the car’s air conditioner, set at 64 degrees, and the fans on 6
