My grandma lived in one of those towns where most of the population had AARP cards and qualified for the senior discount at the movie theater.
A number of years ago, she passed away, and my entire family descended upon the unsuspecting populace for the funeral.
The running joke my childhood friend always loved was telling me that my family could populate its own third-world country.
When we all arrived at the funeral service, I'm sure all my grandma's elderly friends were trying cope with the background noise that naturally follows 60+ people. Several of us were already seated when my nephew walked into the room.
This nephew is one of many who has Asperger's, a social disorder on the autism spectrum that can make social interaction difficult or awkward (as you'll see in just a minute).
The following is my best attempt to give you a mental picture of what happened next:
My nephew, who looks like he was transplanted into our skinny, dark-haired family directly from Sweden, sauntered into the room as if he owned the place.
There he stood at the back of the church with his little hands planted on his tiny hips.
And, loud enough for the entire room to hear, even without the help of their hearing aids, he blurted, "Okay ... where's the dead lady?"
I don't even want to tell you how many heads whipped around.