My parents have been longtime friends with this one family. All through my childhood they’d get together with them to play bridge each weekend. I am an only child, so I’d be brought along. Fortunately, they had 4 boys, so there were always people to play with. The oldest boy was one of those kids who taught me lessons vicariously. Whatever was wrong to do, he did. He stole from his brothers for drugs, tormented them, got arrested (and bailed out by his parents). The thing is he never changed as he grew. He grew up to be a nasty lawyer. He was always the kind that you wanted to wash your hands after shaking hands, and you always watched your purse when he was around. He was slick.

He married several times (cheated and divorced several times). He always remained the fair-haired child and Mom and Dad always bailed him out. Well, he died suddenly on a bike trail this year (he was late 40s, and very fit).

I felt awful for the parents — my parents good friends — and immediately brought food to their house. I baked a casserole and some dessert, and brought them over in my nice longaberger basket (easy to carry and looks nice). They were so appreciative (and so distraught). They met me at the door and whisked the food to the kitchen, came out and talked, and then I took leave (not wanting to impose). I didn’t ask for my basket back because I didn’t want to be a burden. I know they see my folks regularly, so I didn’t worry about getting it back (for those of you who don’t know longaberger baskets, a basket like this is almost $100. They are handwoven of hardwood maple, and are very sturdy, but nice looking).

Two days later, I met up with my Mom at the funeral and stood by her (there were no seats available). My day was playing the bagpipes for the service. At the front they had a display setup of some of his favorite things, and there was a table with his picture propped up ..against what looked like my basket!! I said to my Mom, “Is that MY basket?” She said, “Oh yes, they are holding his ashes in it.” Knowing my Mom, I figured she was trying to bait me into being appalled and upset (she likes to kid like that). I expressed my disbelief but she persisted. My dad came out to play the pipes and he marched toward the table with the picture on it. Mom SWORE he was piping to the remains of this guy — the ashes in the basket. I WAS starting to be appalled, but still refused to believe it actually was that.

(As an aside, the second time dad came out to play, the man in front of us put his fingers in his ears!! I couldn’t believe it. We were outside, and a single piper is not that loud in that environment…and my Dad is a good player! The pipes were in good tune and everything. I laughed harder later knowing this guy KNEW my dad — was a former neighbor of these people).

Anyway, I ran into the Mom after the service and wanted to express my condolences. She was quite excited to point out that she “honored” me by using MY basket to hold her son’s ashes!! NO KIDDING. She said they hadn’t thought about what to put him in and saw my beautiful basket and knew I would be honored!! Seriously!

I told my Mom I didn’t want it back!! A week or so later, they brought the basket back to my Mom’s house. She wouldn’t let it in the house and held it out her window to drive it to my house and put it back in the garage. It didn’t get back into my house, that’s for sure! A friend offered to take it off my hands even after hearing the story!!

Unbelievable.