Here’s how much I pay attention

It’s impossible for me not to know that Gerald R. Ford is being buried in Grand Rapids, the city where I now reside. I’ve known this since last week. I’ve even known that his body will be laid to rest at the Gerald R. Ford Presidential Museum downtown.

I even discussed attending the viewing with my husband, who nixed standing in line with an impatient two-year-old for two hours, despite the historical nature of the occasion. So I just figured all of the grand gestures would pass me by completely. Taking place downtown, several miles from my abode.

Not so fast, Lori.

Driving home from the children’s musuem this afternoon, I spied barriers on the corner of the street two blocks from my house. “Hmmmm,” was my thought. Then, as I walked Juliette to the dog park tonight, I noticed a very tall satellite-type truck parked right nearby and thought nothing of it. Other than the fact that it was very out of place.

It took a friend at the park to explain to me that the motorcade heading to the church service would be making its way down that very street, two blocks from my house, for it to sink in.

Still a bit slow to catch on, even at that point, I just now discovered that the private funeral is being held at a church that I walk my dog past on a regular basis. Right on the corner of an intersection I drive through on an even more regular basis. Just six blocks down the street from me.

I guess the grand gestures will be in much closer proximity than I imagined. Too bad I’ll be at work. Maybe I can find an excuse to come home a little early and watch a bit of history.