Nicaragua: A Dignified Way to Go

One day I stumbled upon a funeral in Granada. Whoever had died was being escorted to church to the accompaniment of a brass band, to the sound of tubas and trumpets and trombones. The procession, followed by mourners on foot, wound through town, up and down the street for what seemed like hours. I kept encountering the deceased and the entourage.

The coffin rested in the bed of a horse-drawn hearse. High up on his seat, the driver held the reins and maintained the slow, steady pace, dressed in tails and a top hat. It should have seemed odd, comical, but it didn't it seemed appropriate and right, a very dignified way to go.