Mark Long's Funeral  I'm with my mom and we stop in front of our house to pick something up. We are going to my friend Mark Long's funeral. My mom drives through our neighbor's driveway. We go through alleys down tot where the funeral is, by the Hill Lodge in Oak Valley. I point out to my mom that I know everyone's car that is in his or her driveway when we go by. I am a pallbearer. They give us very brief instructions before the ceremony. My grade school friends Gino Teavor and Jerry Kasper are also pallbearers. On the way up to view the body people are passing a tiny live bird around in their hands. I get it, holding it with its legs between my index finger and thumb. Then I pass it on. I see Mark. His body jolts, jerks, and moves like he is alive. The funeral director adjusts his body in the casket. I touch Mark and say goodbye. I think that even though he moved he is dead. I sit back down after walking the wrong way. The director quickly slides the casket off the stand. The pallbearers aren't ready to grab the casket. The casket falls and the front hits the floor. This is embarrassing to Mark and his family. We pick it up. I grab the front left side of the casket. We carry it high up, near our shoulders. Some of the pallbearers complain that they were not given enough instruction, preparation, or equipment to do the job well. We carry the casket out. We make a wrong turn up some stairs. After the funeral director tells us we did so, we back down and go to the left, down some stairs. We go through a tunnel. Firefighters are hurrying in. I yell for them to watch out. I say, "Heads Up!", and they look out.