Michael D. Davis.

Have you ever seen the movie ‘Big Fish’? Yes? No? Well, if you haven’t, go watch it now, then come back and read the rest of the article. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

So, now that you’ve seen the movie, you know that there is a scene in there at a funeral. At the funeral, all these crazy people show up, a wide-ranging bunch that ordinarily wouldn’t be joined together, but are because they knew the deceased. I’d love to have that at my funeral, the only thing is I doubt that many people would show up. It will probably only be a couple of people sitting there saying, “This is it?”

Well, the other day, Ma and I attended a funeral visitation. Dozens and dozens of people lined the hallway to pay their respects. The line went so long that it curved at the back door and started to double up upon itself. When we got in line, we came face to face with a family friend. I could call him Matt, but I won’t. We have referred to him with a multitude of nicknames; the one that has really seemed to stick is The Jolly Green Giant.

You see, ol’ Jolly green is well over six feet tall. In fact, he stands pretty close to seven feet, three feet of which is head, and four feet of which is leg. I’m not sure how that adds up, but it’s pretty much the truth. Between his height and his penchant for spending idle hours in the gym lifting heavy things or jumping up and down or whatever he does, the man looks like some mythological hero who should be out defending a village from an invading dragon with nothing but a sword.

The line at the visitation moved slowly as those at the front took their time to express their condolences to the bereaved. Jolly Green was at least twenty people ahead of us in line. Frankly, this was a good thing. Jolly’s head towered over everyone else. It was like looking at a tree branch among twigs; you could see him a mile off.

So, we used him as our guide to know that the line was moving. The person shifted in front of us, so we looked up, and yup, ahead of us in line, Jolly’s head scraped a little further down the ceiling. Every few minutes, we’d look and see where the head was located. It’s by the deer painting, now its by the lamp, ooh, it’s almost in the other room.

Me and Ma got real excited when we finally saw Jolly Green move out of the hall and into the next room. Granted, he had to duck to do so, as this particular door frame was a little low.

We continued to keep watch over Jolly Green’s head as it made its way through the funeral home. Sticking up like a periscope out of the ocean, his head remained easy to find. Eventually, though, Jolly got accosted. A few little ones came up and started hanging off of his bicep. As I stood twenty people back in line, blood starting to pool in my socks, he’s up there doing a bicep curl with a ten-year-old.

Finally, Jolly’s head led us to the bereaved so we could say a few words. By the time we were done talking, Jolly was gone. Off to defend a village, or bicep curl some children, or stand in another line, wherever Jolly Green went, I know he’s a head above the rest…literally.