Firebrand, crazy people and a hero

Three items of interest today.

First, if you have followed the life and times of Jack Kevorkian, aka Dr Death, and the effect he has had on the assisted suicide debate, you will be interested to read the latest post on the Death With Digity blog, which concludes:  Firebrand, hero, crazy man, renegade, zealot. No matter how you describe him, Kevorkian got all of us to think about something we never want to face, and by talking about death our end of life options are improving. Read it here.

Speaking of those he helped on their way with his Thanatron and Mercitron, Kevorkian said: My intent was to carry out my duty as a doctor, to end their suffering. Unfortunately, that entailed, in their cases, ending of the life.

There’s a good roundup of newspaper reports of his death at the excellent Exit blog here.

Second, an eyebrow-raising insight into the sort of nimbyism which must have put a stop to, or delayed the opening of, many natural burial grounds. You can’t say ‘No blacks, no dogs, no Irish’ anymore, but you can say ‘No Dead’ – and they do. Inhabitants of the leafier part of Ajax, Virginia (why didn’t they call it Brobat or Izal?) are in uproar over a proposed NBG at the bottom of their gardens. Among imbecilities which they have vocalised are: “When a body decomposes, the rotting creates maggots and flies and attracts rodents, which will attract foxes and coyotes” “What happens if someone has AIDS and that gets in the water?” “From a scientific perspective, thousands of bodies in a mass grave decaying simultaneously into the watershed is very unnatural … and unprecedented,” and “That’s all we need, is to see a coyote running by with an arm or leg in its mouth.” Read the whole sad story if you can bear to here.

Third, and I direct you to this because I believe that there’s nothing the public sector cannot do better than the conscienceless for-profit sector (you’ve been following the Southern Cross scandal, I’m sure), an account by a proud public sector worker of the death of his grandfather. He concludes What drives me, the organisation I work for and hundreds of others like us, is ensuring that everyone has the best chance of being as fortunate as my dad was at the time they need it most – not just in social care, but from public services in general.’ Read the blog here.

Fourth (I never said I was numerate), at the funeral in the US yesterday of a young man killed in a car crash the mourners wore green – for life and renewal. Now, that’s a good idea.

All hands to the pulp

I wonder what you will think of this new coffin from Denmark. It is pressed from recycled paper pulp. Here are the key features, helpfully translated by Mr Google.

1. The coffin is made of molded pulp

2. The coffin weight is approx. 6kg against wooden coffins from approx. 20kg and over

3. The coffin is environmentally friendly and biodegradable. Made from long fiber recycled paper, pulp

4. The coffin is treated with environmentally friendly material that is water resistant and can tolerate water in a prescribed time

5. The coffin is treated with environmentally friendly material which makes it compliant to the ignition of cremation

6. The coffin has built-in handle in the side of the coffin, the opposite usually externally on the coffin

7. Closing the coffin has been made without screws

8. The coffin shape is both rectangular (as in Nordic and other countries) and trapezoidal (as in several other countries)

9. The coffin bottom is standard with normal apron (as a bottom frame) but has a special angled seam at all four corners for inserting the feet. This has been designed for countries that use feet on coffins

10. The coffin interior bottom has a fold in the middle, so that Muslims can be laying on the side according to their burial rules

11. The coffin comes in any colouring a customer may wish, even a colour of coffin bottom, another for the lid, a third colour of the urn base and a fourth colour for urn lid

12. The coffin ornaments, such as a cross to a Christian person, an anchor for a sailor, hammer and sickle to a communist and many others decorations are supplied separately for mounting by the customer wishes

13. The coffin belonging urn comes with the coffin and is made of the same material as the coffin. Colour can be chosen different from the coffin as mentioned above.

14.Received Awards

The product received 40,000 from “Growth through counseling”

The product received 100,000 from ”The Research and Innovation Agency”

The product received 10,000 and Environment Prize from “Denmark’s best idea on Fyn in 2010”

More info and pics here and here.

Bill’s bones and other stories

You may have missed the comment below by Cynthia Beal on Bill Jordan’s piece about how he wants to be buried on the surface (when he dies) where he can be of most use. Read it here.

Cynthia is formidably bright and enterprising, not to mention generous and kind. She lives in Oregon. At a time when greener than green burialists over there are vying with each other in matters of purity of vision and impeccability of practice, Cynthia’s focus is sustainability and choice for all. She’s got a very exciting project under way at the moment, and I hope I’ll soon be able to tell you about it – or that Cynthia will tell us in her own words.

Here’s what Cynthia wrote:

Bill and I are going to have a go at seeing what we can come up with to accommodate his very natural wishes. We hope to cover all the bases and find some way to achieve his goals without creating any public health and safety issues in excess of those caused by conventional burials, nor caring over-much for what people think. Personally, I’ve got in mind an ornamental wrought-iron grill work to set on top of him as a sort of cage with some way to address the dirt-on-top legality. It would secure his body from large predators and let the insects he likes so well have full access. We’re going to arrange for him to have DNA tests on file in the county of his disposition, as I suggested that a drifting femur or metatarsul might give the local sheriff a headache. I’ll keep you posted!

Back to Bill, now. He wrote after his piece was published to express his appreciation of your comments. He added this:

I once wrote a piece for a now-defunct magazine called National Gardening about the compost heap in my back yard.  I likened it to an altar of energy on which the dead vegetation was piled, and the process of decomposition was pyre of renewed life.  I concluded that the process of life and death could not be separated, in contrast to the prevailing spiritualities of Western Civilization, which cling desperately to a separation of mind and body; and the attempt to propagate this belief revealed a deep, delusional denial.

But mind arose from stuff and stuff lived on in the eternal processes of life.  There was no such thing as birth I death, I concluded, only molecular assembly and disassembly, and so long at the earth lived, so live us all.  To which the editor, who was an old friend, replied in the author’s byline:  “William Jordan is a collection of molecules ordering cialis online safe currently living and writing in Culver City, California”  I never have been skewered before or since with such gleeful appreciation.

One thing I forgot to mention; I hope this is appropriate on another man’s blog–but could you mention that I am the author of the books, Divorce Among the Gulls and  A Cat Named Darwin?

I am currently working on what I hope will become the culmination of my life’s work–what the writer, Edward Abbey referred to as his Fat Masterpiece–a fat masterpiece with the working title of The Book of Jake.  It is built on the true story of a duck I rescued from what is known in LA as a “flood control channel”–flood control channels are almost invariably former streams, creaks and their tributaries which have been paved with concrete.  Their purpose is to lead away the lakes of water heavy rains leave behind, and they work with spectacular efficiency. They are also a sentence of death for the stream.  Or so it might seem.  The stream bed is now a street bed, a flat plane without any impediments to obstruct the flow of water.  When the weather is sunny, as it usually is in southern California, the flood control channels serve to lead the runnoff from yards and streets, with their toxic loads of pesticides, oils, heavy metals, and whatever else our civilization bleeds into water.  Yet it’s remarkable how life rises up in these polluted channels, with algae growing into great, streaming mats of life, which support midges and other aquatic insects, which support swallows and ducks and all sorts of migratory wading birds.

It was from this foul sump of life that I rescued Jake.  It turns out, however, that Jake is no mere duck.  He is the voice of nature–an oracle duck–and he allows me to say things about our species that could not be said without some sort of literary shape shifting.  This is crucially important, because I contend that in order to understand the ecological mess we humans have made of the world—to understand the human being in proper context with nature–any meaningful assessment must begin in misanthropy.  This is necessary to disable the innate species narcissism that wells up from the human genome, along with an obsessive-compulsive species allegiance.  If you cannot get beyond these traits, you can do little except praise and admire us and spin our transgressions as some form of good, usually with the help of God.

You can buy Divorce Among the Gulls here

You can buy A Cat Named Darwin here

We’re going where the sun shines brightly

I finally got to the bottom of it. The Isle of Portland is an area of severe signal deprivation. The Vodafone man confessed this shamefacedly when I demanded to know why his sainted dongle denied me the gift of utterance. “You’re in a 2G area,” he mumbled, “you need 3G at least for the internet.” “So why did Vodafone sell me this bloody dongle with the promise that it would connect me?” “Well, it does connect you, but very slowly.” “No, I crash before anything gets through.” “Oh.” The discussion is ongoing.

Me, the missus and three dogs are off for a week’s holiday. We can do email but that’s about it. No blog posts. Suspended animation, please note, not death.

See you soon! (And apologies for putting that tune in your head.)

Tweetfest

It’s been a while since I posted a roundup of news stories. Here’s a bunch. I can’t claim to have got them all; it’s a laborious business collecting them. They were all first posted on Twitter. I feel guilty about that. Twitter is a social networking site and I just use it as a filing system. Not cricket. Ach, wotthehell, archy, wotthehell.

Man journeying through eternity with a woman who is not his wife –http://bit.ly/i8mfBr

Father of Britain’s longest unburied body dies – http://bbc.in/i2r9Th

‘In his memory, go and get that medical test you’ve been avoiding.’ Always the best obits here: http://bit.ly/fGVXFl

RIP Poly Styrene – http://youtu.be/2sl-7RSiRXE

Thirteen-year-old boy sets fire to his granddad – http://bit.ly/gNyhno

What would you taste like to a cannibal? Ever wondered? Find out here – http://bit.ly/alQW

“Davis said God was looking out for his family when a huge oak tree fell on their house.” Mysterious ways. http://bit.ly/jRmSRi

Mumbai scheme to stop dogs running off with the bones of cremated bodies – http://bit.ly/lBdZtj

Pub to hold funeral for hail-fellow-well-met cat – http://bit.ly/j58Bxy

The husband of Zsa Zsa Gabor wants to have her plastinated when she’s dead – http://bit.ly/j3Rh4U

Burial Lessons: From Che to bin Laden. http://nyr.kr/mGgNN2

Dead rebels with a cause and post-mortem ignominy strategies –http://bbc.in/lGRWOD

RIP Major General Barry Nuttall, scourge of the bureaucrats. What a great guy – http://bit.ly/k8jATS

101 ways to euphemise ‘died’ – http://bit.ly/liuCAg

‘If god wanted us to believe in him he’d exist.’ Linda Smith.

New coffin manufacturer on the block. Anyone know anything about Steve Soult Ltd? http://bit.ly/jdygIO

Teen shoots self during funeral for shooting victim –http://bit.ly/mSGL8x

The DVD funeral tribute turned out to be a child porn slideshow. Ouch. http://bit.ly/kCsyiy

No bricks and mortar funeral homes – the shape of things to come in the UK? http://bit.ly/mvfYFH

Undertaker leaps from a moving aeroplane! http://bit.ly/mq9aHA

Sign of the times: the corpse was identified by the serial numbers of the breast implants – http://bit.ly/k7lNaK

Co-op trying to drive ethical retailer out of business. It’s time to expose this nasty pointless org – http://bit.ly/j3uYrV

OMG and all that, they’re serious about disturbing the dead and reusing their graves!! Good thing and high time –http://bbc.in/lGYKZW

There’s nowt so crap as a crem. This one wouldn’t wait for the dead woman’s brother – http://bit.ly/igiVDk

They killed the dog so that it could be buried with its mistress –http://bit.ly/kOFTSm

No more church funerals for Naples mafiosi. Oh my godfathers!http://bit.ly/lh9sXX

Does anyone know anything about these people? Are they dodgy?http://bit.ly/mpwAwu

Maggoty corpses left outside at US crematory. The price of free enterprise? http://bit.ly/kWPNnw

Gunther von Hagens will pay you £61,000 for your dead body –http://bit.ly/kkga0Y

Dr Hannah Rumble’s PhD thesis on natural burial now available for download. Hugely recommended – http://bit.ly/itaFXA

Here’s a hideous insight into UK undertaking. Cigar for the 1st person to define a ‘caterfelt’ – http://bit.ly/kaWk3f

Anniversary bash celebrates selling out to Fairways. Wailing and gnashing of teeth would have been more in order – http://bit.ly/lfcpsZ

Replica celebrity coffins. Whose is for you? http://bit.ly/jDZZVs

Exit has updated its living will. Pricey at 30 quid but quite possibly worth it? http://bit.ly/ii5F8E

Reporting funerals back in the day – http://bit.ly/joV9cT

Is he?

No, I’m pleased to tell you. Reports are exaggerated. I remain sentient, mostly. Thank you, all those of you who have emailed to express concern. You’ve added to my guilt, but I am very touched.

I’ve been busy – busy with stuff and busy thinking. It’s the thinking that’s kept me away from the blog.

I’ve been preoccupied with paralysing existential brooding concerning the GFG.  I’ve suffered a major identity crisis. I’d be interested to know what you think.

My first and lesser concern has been sustainability. Can the GFG begin to break even at the very least? It runs at a lean and hungry loss at the moment, and that’s silly. ‘What was your business plan?’ I hear you ask. Never had one. I’m a believer in muddling through and seeing what happens. Even planners look back and agree that that’s the way it actually works. My guiding idea has been that if you can be of value to people then you can charge a little for that. I fancy the GFG to be of value to some FDs and providers of services and merchandise. I am proudest of all that it’s helped to keep Yuli Somme busy making her Leafshrouds. The GFG is of value to consumers, too. There ought to be a revenue stream there. Potentially, there is. The GFG just needs a better business head on its shoulders.

My principal concern has been identity. Does the GFG need to exist? What is it for? Last night I happened upon a Catholic blog which, it seems to me, expresses the idea of the GFG very well. The writer begins by saying, I have had a morbid interest in that particular blog for some time,’ and goes on to say:

‘it is an excellent resource to get to grips with the confused secular world and its prevailing attitudes towards death and dying.’ [Source]

That’s it! That’s what we spend a lot of time doing here. So: the GFG is a little think tank. It is earnest, altruistic, mischievous, angry, sad, sometimes bonkers, always serious, never self-serving. It is rooted in things as they are. It seeks to compete with no one and to respect all (almost). It is capable of influence and even authority – and, dammit, we want to change things.

It is the contributions of its loyal commenters, the discussions they have, which bring, in a good month, upwards of 19,000 people to the site. Sure, not all of those get beyond the home page, and I don’t know how many actually go through to the blog. But the name of the GFG is well and widely known; it has readers in many countries. As they say in smart circles, its brand value is high.

But the GFG is presently not growing and maturing, which means, does it, that it’s dying? If it is to mature, how is it to do that? By transitioning from one-man-band to some sort of partnership which formalises what it already is?  Is that what it actually is? (I’ve never been big on egotism; it would be a relief if it were.) Were it to become a partnership, what would the organisational architecture look like?

Maybe I am toying with ideas above my station. Sure, I am ambitious. I’d like us to shout louder and make an impact on public opinion, not leave the field open to Funeralcare and SunLife. But I am possibly being hubristic, and if so you’ll holler ‘Back in your box, Charles’. I can take it. There’s always something next.

Whither?

Too Soon, Autumn

Get back on the trees

you errant leaves!

How dare you fly

across my path so soon?

Forget your cheering colours,

green will do.

My body has not had enough

of summer.

Margie McCallum

Where would we be without a sense of humour?

Germany!

It’s an old Willie Rushton joke.

And of course there’s no truth in it whatever.

I have been contacted by a Year 12/13 student in Germany. Her name is Julia and she is working on a project which I want you to help her with – if you can.

Julia’s working title is “How the British mock death”. She says: I will analyse the black humour in the film ‘Death at a Funeral’ and explain why the British like black humour so much.

Moreover I found a book, called ‘the British Museum book of epitaphs: awful ends’. In this book the author points out that the British tend to have no respect for the dead. On the gravestone of a dentist for instance is written: ‘Stranger, approach this spot with gravity! John Brown is filling his last cavity.’ Are such macabre sayings really the rule in England?

Julia suspects that in everyday life we are as serious as Germans. But: In art the English do tend to have an anarchic approach to death, because the British sense of humour is anarchic.

Please would you help Julia by suggesting sources of good, British funeral humour, and black humour generally. Can you offer her some insights into the national psyche? If you understand Germans, can you point out how they and the British differ and agree in these matters?

Thank you!

Go, Bede!

The present life of man, O king, seems to me like to the swift flight of a sparrow through the hall wherein you sit at supper in winter, with your commanders and ministers, and a good fire in the midst, whilst the storms of rain and snow prevail abroad; the sparrow, I say, flying in at one door, and immediately out at another, whilst he is within, is safe from the wintry storm; but after a short space of fair weather, he immediately vanishes out of your sight, into the dark winter from which he had emerged. So this life of man appears for a short space, but of what went before, or what is to follow, we are utterly ignorant.

The Venerable Bede (673-735)

 

On Being a Funeral Celebrant

Here I am, somehow standing in for this person
we have all gathered to honour and farewell.
I have listened to family and friends,
asked questions to elicit the fullest picture,
the roundest sense of the life at the centre of our ritual.

And here I am, holding it all,
the balance of dignity and lightness,
truth and compassion, sorrow and hopefulness.
In the face of death I am alive, fully present,
every cell seeming to take in and give out what is needed.

Who am I serving in this cherished role?
I am serving the deceased,
standing in the midst of her family,
listening on her behalf,
open to the shades and the nuances.

I am serving family members,
each different in relationship and perspective,
each creating their piece of the remembering.

I am serving friends, colleagues,
anyone who needs to mark an ending,
to say goodbye,
to use the efficacy of ceremony
to be with their regretting and their gratitude.

I am serving the professionals –
the funeral director,
crematorium and cemetery staff,
musicians and bearers
by attending to the details
so the process is orderly and timely.

I serve healing,
for a funeral that is fitting and meaningful
and invites participation
sits well in our bones,
and the journey back to wholeness can begin.

And over and around all this there dwells a larger picture,
a sense that we are held, each one of us,
in something sacred,
and far beyond our knowing.

Margie McCallum