h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Rite of Way

I was by way of discussing death in various cultures and paused after several paragraphs in to fact-check something I remembered from when I buried my step-father. Instead I found myself reading a website with increasing incredulity and a perverse delight. I cannot wait to share this with you. If you don't find this as odd and sometimes funny as I do, then I suppose we will never be good friends, and you should go watch the first season of "Six Feet Under" instead.

It cost me about $8,000 to bury dad in 1997. This included a funeral service led by a minister who had never met my father. The funeral director, son of a funeral director who was a good friend of my parents, advised against a viewing. Although the casket was open for the funeral, dad's body would never have stood up to close, protracted inspection by a woman like Great-Aunt Ethel Oberholtzer. Dad died in Florida but was buried in his native Pennsylvania and federal law requires that a cadaver be embalmed before it may cross state lines. I was not consulted as to who should perform the embalming, and the job was done rather indifferently.

By the way, Great-Aunt Ethel wore a pink dress from the 1930's that must have had some sort of crinoline underneath because its mid-calf length stood out like a bell.

I came north several days before the funeral and visited Williams' Funeral Home to make arrangements. This was easy; I told them to give dad exactly the same sort of casket that he got for mom. It was metal, spray painted just like a luxury car in a light copper shade, with chrome fittings and cream-colored velvet upholstery. Call me superstitious! Dad was pretty pharaonic about his own death and I wouldn't have dared short-change him. Anyway, it was a Batesville casket. I will come back to that.

In 1925 my dad's family purchased six deluxe sideways-on slots in a brand-new mausoleum that became the centerpiece of an older cemetery. It had been on the outskirts of town, this cemetery, but in 1997 it was a mid-town park, and the little granite mausoleum looked a bit shabby. Dad's parents were placed in the bottom two places, in 1960 and 1965. My mother got the next vault in 1984, and Dad showed me where the deed was kept for the remaining berths so that I could put him there in chronological order and then use one myself. "Oh dad," I remember exclaiming, "I don't know where I'll be!" It was the most diplomatic thing I could think of to say.

And so dad got the 4th bunk and nothing but vacant places above him. We were met inside the mausoleum by a faint charnel whiff and an old fellow who looked after the site all by himself. Pieces of broken slab and grit were all over the floor, and he was very pleased at having discovered a newspaper page dated 1925 inside the vault. Insisted on holding my arm and showing it to me. We, the funeral party, left before they slid the casket home.

Batesville caskets come with a 50 year guarantee. If you will open your hymnals to http://www.batesville.com/what-we-do/burial-caskets/116-2/ , you can discover features which Batesville consider makes their product superior, in particular the MemoryShelf® feature. In this sample of what you might consider salient about your Loved One's life, they have elected to show a passport and some spare change. Possibly some tickets as well. Your Loved One was evidently planning to scarper, and had emptied his or her pockets on the bedside table just before Death showed up. And so you place these proofs of perfidy on the MemoryShelf® so everyone will know that your Loved One almost made it to Belize.

Well, you spin a better story.

Anglo burial rituals are kind of skimpy. If you die here, staff will lay you out then get you out of the building as sneakily as possible; they don't cover the face because then people will twig to the fact that there's a death here, and we Anglos are so in denial about death.

http://www.lilatladera.com/h2g2/L.jpg

Thanks for the link to Batesville. I was struck by the memory drawer and memory shelf ideas as, in a way, reflecting the old tradition of burying people with various items they might need in the afterlife.

Then I noted that these facilities in Batesville products are easily accessible from outside the casket. Hey guys, its the person INSIDE that is going to need them. A real design flaw there in my humble opinion.

I have always been regarded by my family as being a little casual, and perhaps even disrespectful, when it comes to death. My view as an athiest (other faiths also available and no less relevant) is that at the moment of death, the person has left the building, and all that is left is to reverently dispose of the physical remains. Or in my case irreverently. What do I care what happens. Once I am gone, I am gone. I may leave complete instructions as to the ceremonies to be performed, the readings, the music, the recording of the sound of someone knocking on wood and a voice saying'Hello, can you get me out please, I am locked in the wardrobe I think.'

The thought of all the fun people will have will make me feel a little better about having to check out, even if afterwards all that happens is that I am left in a black sack at the end of the drive and everyone goes off to divi up the money.

My family is quite big on cremation, it doesn't waste space, it is less expensive and allows more money for the wake, and as my mother remarked, it ensures in the case of medical incompetence that you aren't left to suffocate to death over a period of days.

I didn't go see my father whilst the coffin was open. My mother and sister did, and said he looked thirty years younger. They didn't have to embalm him, as he had been permanently embalmed for the last fifty years. In fact the last time he had required surgical intervention they had to wait three days for the liquor licence before they could open him.

My father was cremated, my mother will be cremated, and so will I. I'm with pebbles, who needs a body once you've died?

I have a lot to say about this, but just this very moment cannot type it out. *feeling a bit of personal grief* Sorry Asteroid lil. Just a bit too close for my personal perspective.

We all have our own perspective. I supppose what matters is that your preferences are taken into account.

I don't know what I'd like for me. I guess in the cemetary where my grandparents (and now 2 cousins) are interred. Cremation would be fine for me. I loved the book "Stiff" by what's her name... good one anyway. It mentioned that there was an alternative here in Sweden, using freeze drying, and then vibrations to pulverise the body. No burning, no fumes, less impact on environment. But sadly, it's not been approved by authorities yet.

The author of Stiff is Mary Roach, and it was that book that made me decide to donate my body to the university hospital for anatomical research. Not only are the bodies freeze-dried and pulverized, but then the remains are used as fertilizer. Good idea.

Lanza --

I think it's missing a cup holder.

My husband planned his funeral down to almost the last detail, which made it a lot easier for me to cope in the aftermath of his death. It was a humanist cremation & there was a lot of both tears & laughter. It really felt like a celebration of his life.

Cremation is the way to go for me too.

Deb

[Amy P]

A cup holder!

On one of the art lists I used to belong to, the subject was raised of painted coffins. A business was offering custom exteriors -- you could emboss your coffin with the logo of your favorite sports team, or, to go the full Egyptian, your own portrait, or maybe just a tasteful floral pattern. Or racing stripes. I thought this would only be worthwhile if the painting was on the inside.

That has always been the big flaw in funerals. It's all about the mourners and nothing for the star of the show. Equal rights for all is what I say.