All was silence, except for the cranking gears. Sixty to seventy people standing and sitting in silence, not even a whisper of the wind. All watching the man in the serviceman's uniform, as he cranked away at the handle. No one moved.

Until the tall man, seated in the middle of the front row, wife at his left, youngest daughter at his right, lurched suddenly forward. Craning his neck, the woman's and girl's hands holding his in his lap, anchoring him in his seat.

The father.

Watching his son's coffin being lowered into the ground.

Watching it every second he could.

We said good-bye to Taylor today. And I do mean "we". Youngest son said they set up seats for 250 in the church.

It was all they had.

It wasn't enough.

There were folks standing in the back. We arrived twenty minutes early (thanks to the pilot forgetting our elk flight), and got one of the last spaces in the church parking lot. The rest of the vehicles spilling over into the street, and empty field beyond.

It was a young crowd, of course. At least two-thirds high school-aged, or thereabouts. I was surprised so many of them, youngest son included, wore black so stylishly. But then it struck me... these young people didn't buy black clothes for this. Not for a funeral.

Bet it never entered their minds. Mortality is generally such a remote concept at that age.

No longer for these.

And I realize we need not concern ourselves with this new generation, this plugged-in, wired generation. Watching their mourning pods gather, hug and cry. Reach out to pull in those standing alone...

One of the four survivors of the wreck, the most badly injured, arrived on crutches. His mouth and jaw still wired shut. Broke down amidst his peers. A parent, a counselor I believe, stepped up to intervene, to talk.

He needn't have bothered. The young man's friends were supporting him just fine. Just as he needed.

After the service, this same young man hobbled up on his crutches to the two firemen we were standing with on the lawn. Two of the first on the scene. Two of the men who literally tore the car apart to get him out. Fighting the tight rubber bands inside his mouth holding his jaws together, this young man thanked those who had saved him.

No, we need not worry about this generation at all.