We celebrate her life. We mourn her passing.”
Father Bob followed Chesterton. “We are gathered here today to remember Sheila Bensen. She was a remarkable woman and committed and caring teacher, and in her own unique way, a devoted Catholic....”
Father Bob’s comments were very brief. Then he invited members of the congregation to come forward and say a few words about Benson. At least a dozen did; all but one were female. The one male, a tall gangly kid with orange hair, told the congregation how Bensen changed his life by taking him out of this century and connecting him with the past. The others, serious looking women, talked about Bensen’s commitment to the women’s movement and to social justice. Elkins noted that their sincerity and passion was more compelling than the earlier remarks.
The service concluded with a young woman, backed by guitars, singing “Amazing Grace,” slightly off key and with a Nashville twang. The organist pounded some up-tempo Bach for the recessional. Elkins and Pascoe slipped out a side door.
“What now?” asked Pascoe.
“There will be a reception at the University Club. Sherry, small sandwiches, cheese and crackers, a silver tray with chocolates, and polite conversation.”
“Are we going to take this in, too?”
“I’ve got some other things I’ve got to get done. You can go if you want to.”
“No thanks. Let me ask you this. What did you learn or see there, anything significant?”
Elkins smiled at her. “You don’t usually have an ‘aha’ experience when you’re confronted with new knowledge, the ‘aha’ comes later when you’ve had an opportunity to integrate it with everything else you know. That’s when you make the cognitive leap.”
“And when is that going to happen?”
“You can never tell. Sometimes it’s at 3:00 A.M. Some times when you’re in the shower, or walking, or driving. You’ve just got to let things percolate.”
“Aha,” said Pascoe.
14
R ay spent Saturday in his office doing catch-up on the paperwork. It was the kind of task he hated. First he had to review and sign several dozen purchase orders. Then he read through and approved leave requests. And last he had to respond to dozens of memos, most coming via e-mail, many requiring a carefully written response. Without the interruptions of the normal workday, Ray was able to complete most of the work that had piled up as his attention had been directed at the investigation of the death of Sheila Bensen.It was early evening by the time he returned home. He settled on his deck with a microwave dinner and the Times , the sun low on the horizon. The sound of voices in the Chesterton’s yard indicated that the English Department party was already in full swing.
Ray was almost through the Op Ed section when he was startled by Stephanie’s sudden appearance out of the shadows.
“Are you coming over, or are you just going to sit here?”
“I thought maybe I’d sit here. I’m awfully tired and not feeling very social.”
“Come on Elkins, you’ve got to stop this. You can’t become a hermit. You’ve got to get on with your life.”
“I’d have to shower and shave and….”
“You look fine. If you want, you can throw on a sport coat, but even that isn’t necessary. You know how the men in the English department dress. Half of them won’t wear a coat. Come on.” Stephanie was behind his chair, pulling it back from the table and herding him into the house.
“I’ll get you a coat.” She disappeared into the house. Stephanie had been Ellen’s best friend and knew Elkins’s house almost as well as her own. He could visualize her marching into the bedroom, opening the walk-in closet, and looking through his sport coats, quickly rejecting most of them.
She reappeared with a blue, lightweight blazer.
Ray looked at it. “That’s fairly wrinkled.”
“It’s the best there is. Everything in there should be sent to the cleaners.” Pulling the coat off the
Father Bob followed Chesterton. “We are gathered here today to remember Sheila Bensen. She was a remarkable woman and committed and caring teacher, and in her own unique way, a devoted Catholic....”
Father Bob’s comments were very brief. Then he invited members of the congregation to come forward and say a few words about Benson. At least a dozen did; all but one were female. The one male, a tall gangly kid with orange hair, told the congregation how Bensen changed his life by taking him out of this century and connecting him with the past. The others, serious looking women, talked about Bensen’s commitment to the women’s movement and to social justice. Elkins noted that their sincerity and passion was more compelling than the earlier remarks.
The service concluded with a young woman, backed by guitars, singing “Amazing Grace,” slightly off key and with a Nashville twang. The organist pounded some up-tempo Bach for the recessional. Elkins and Pascoe slipped out a side door.
“What now?” asked Pascoe.
“There will be a reception at the University Club. Sherry, small sandwiches, cheese and crackers, a silver tray with chocolates, and polite conversation.”
“Are we going to take this in, too?”
“I’ve got some other things I’ve got to get done. You can go if you want to.”
“No thanks. Let me ask you this. What did you learn or see there, anything significant?”
Elkins smiled at her. “You don’t usually have an ‘aha’ experience when you’re confronted with new knowledge, the ‘aha’ comes later when you’ve had an opportunity to integrate it with everything else you know. That’s when you make the cognitive leap.”
“And when is that going to happen?”
“You can never tell. Sometimes it’s at 3:00 A.M. Some times when you’re in the shower, or walking, or driving. You’ve just got to let things percolate.”
“Aha,” said Pascoe.
14
R ay spent Saturday in his office doing catch-up on the paperwork. It was the kind of task he hated. First he had to review and sign several dozen purchase orders. Then he read through and approved leave requests. And last he had to respond to dozens of memos, most coming via e-mail, many requiring a carefully written response. Without the interruptions of the normal workday, Ray was able to complete most of the work that had piled up as his attention had been directed at the investigation of the death of Sheila Bensen.It was early evening by the time he returned home. He settled on his deck with a microwave dinner and the Times , the sun low on the horizon. The sound of voices in the Chesterton’s yard indicated that the English Department party was already in full swing.
Ray was almost through the Op Ed section when he was startled by Stephanie’s sudden appearance out of the shadows.
“Are you coming over, or are you just going to sit here?”
“I thought maybe I’d sit here. I’m awfully tired and not feeling very social.”
“Come on Elkins, you’ve got to stop this. You can’t become a hermit. You’ve got to get on with your life.”
“I’d have to shower and shave and….”
“You look fine. If you want, you can throw on a sport coat, but even that isn’t necessary. You know how the men in the English department dress. Half of them won’t wear a coat. Come on.” Stephanie was behind his chair, pulling it back from the table and herding him into the house.
“I’ll get you a coat.” She disappeared into the house. Stephanie had been Ellen’s best friend and knew Elkins’s house almost as well as her own. He could visualize her marching into the bedroom, opening the walk-in closet, and looking through his sport coats, quickly rejecting most of them.
She reappeared with a blue, lightweight blazer.
Ray looked at it. “That’s fairly wrinkled.”
“It’s the best there is. Everything in there should be sent to the cleaners.” Pulling the coat off the
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