…it’s living that scares me to death.” Annie Lennox
If your mind is active and you have a minute to do nothing better with, you might like to accept the Gail Rubin challenge, pop over to her blog and supply your on variant on the many “Living is easy…” quotes.
If Gail is not on your blogroll, add her.
Find The Faily Plot blog here.
Not many people cite or quote holy texts any more, but a deep human appetite for words of transcendent, mystical wisdom lives on. Twitter is full of people regurgitating inspirational quotes by secular saints (loadsa Gandhi, of course). Once in a while a Facebook friend is afflicted, and of course I block them at once. But we’re probably all guilty, so here goes. When the atheist, anti-marriage writer HL Mencken got wed in a church his friends protested. He replied, ‘Like all other infidels, I am superstitious.’ And that would seem to me to be a pretty good, down-to-earth quote to describe the faith position of most people today. I’m not ashamed to offer you that.
Mencken also said this: ‘Old age ain’t no place for sissies.’ Never truer in this age of protracted, intractable dying. As the years pile up we need more and more courage to face and negotiate the inexorable. There’s no doubting who this country’s real heroes are.
Heroism comes in different guises. I very much like its guise in this letter to the Oldie magazine.
SIR: Working people frequently ask us retired people what we do to make our days interesting.
Well, the other day, my wife, Helen, and I went into town and visited a shop. When we came out, there was a traffic warden writing out a parking ticket. We went up to him and I said, ‘Come on, sir, how about giving an OAP a break?’ He ignored us and continued writing the ticket. I called him an idiot. He glared at me and started writing another ticket for having worn-out tyres, so Helen called him arrogant. He finished writing the second ticket and put it on the windscreen with the first. Then he started writing more tickets. This went on for about 20 minutes. Just then our bus arrived, and we got on it and went home.
We try to have a little fun each day now that we’re retired. It’s important at our age.
Grenville Collins
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!
I’m not supposed to be here (see previous post) but I can’t resist abandoning packing my water wings for a moment in order to give vent to what may or may not be justified crossness.
Funerals have, by many people who ought to know better, been subjected to a reductio ad absurdum: three songs and a piss-up. It’s Grief Bypass therapy, and I’ve capped those words because so many people are peddling it. It seeks to make death manageable by trivialising it — it seems to me.
Given that funerals are about people and loss — people who may have been adored, reviled or anything in between; loss that is vast — you’d think that people would have to be emotionally retarded to fall for it. Joanna Yeates’s parents didn’t. But Co-operative Funeralcare’s marketing people seem to have shown that you can never go wrong by underestimating the taste of the British public. And now the Dying Matters Coalition is joining in.
Dying Matters, funded by taxpayers’ money and charged with getting people to confront end-of-life issues, has already given birth to A Party for Kath. Now it has published a web page titled Alternative Funeral Songs. It regurgitates a survey by the Children’s Society (search me) of favourite funeral songs and lists the top ten alternatives, too boring to relate. It goes on to say:
Here at Dying Matters we have a few suggestions of our own. How about: ‘Bat Out of Hell’, Meatloaf; ‘Another One Bites the Dust’, Queen; ‘Highway to Hell’, AC/DC; ‘Knocking on Heaven’s Door’, Bob Dylan; ‘Reach for the Stars’, S Club 7; and ‘Dancing On Your Grave’, Motorhead.
Have you chosen an off-the-wall track for your funeral? Let Dying Matters know by emailing s.stone@ncpc.org.uk. We will, of course, retain your anonymity unless you tell us you are happy for us to use your name.
Ha ha ha. Haven’t we heard this all before?
I’ve been the celebrant at a funeral which concluded with everyone singing Burn, baby, burn. It was outrageous and very funny. But context was all, and in the circumstances it was sung in a spirit of love, grief and anger. It was as powerful as a dies irae, not played for a larf.
Humour is important. It’s (on occasion) a great channel for pain and misery. It’s deadly serious, not an escape valve for an escapist snigger-urge.
But perhaps I am being too harsh or pious or puritanical. And if I am you’ll be cross enough to tell me so. You may or may not persuade me. But I think I’ll always incline to a treatment of loss more in the spirit of this wonderful tribute to his father by Simon Usborne.
There’s a nice cartoon in the Christmas Spectator. It’s so verbal I can reproduce it in words. If you’re arty, draw it on the blank sheet above.
The Grim Reaper has come for a man, who is standing in his doorway. Reaper G responds to a query. “Scythe? Scythe? You must be joking. Scythes went out with button shoes, mate.”
Mr Reaper is carrying a strimmer.
“Life is like a movie; no one ever wants to walk out in the middle of a movie. But in the end we all do that.”
More quotes, please, beginning Life is like… and also getting to the poignant truth, as the quote above does.
C’mon, kickstart that brain! Keep Herr Dr Alzheimer from the door!
There’s quite a good joke here — it must be an old one but I’ve not come across it before — in this week’s Spectator by Robin Oakley. It goes:
Asked why he had sent a wreath in the shape of a lifebelt, a friend at the funeral of the man who had drowned replied, “It’s what he would have wanted.”
There must be an infinite number of variants on this. What’s yours?
Gail Rubin is a writer and blogger in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I’ve just looked up Albuquerque on google maps. It’s a long way from a decent beach.
Gail has written a book, A Good Goodbye: Funeral Planning for Those Who Don’t Plan to Die, which will be published at the end of this month. She also does some outreach work for an excellent funeral planning website, Funeralwise.com. It’s full of good advice; it’s well written and intelligent.
I’ve ordered her book already, and I urge you to do the same. Here’s what Gail says about it:
“Just as talking about sex won’t make you pregnant, talking about funerals won’t make you dead – and your family will benefit from the conversation. A Good Goodbye provides the information, inspiration and tools to plan and implement creative, meaningful and memorable end-of-life rituals for people, and their pets, too.”
Joe Sehee, executive director of the Green Burial Council, says: “Gail Rubin takes on society’s last taboo in a readable, practical manner with a light touch. It’s a great read for anyone who isn’t sure about this ‘death thing’ and how to best prepare for it.”
I’m looking forward to getting my copy. You can order yours here.
When Gail was in college thirty years ago, in an enterprise which prefigured her later immersion in the logistics of mortality, she made the short spoof (above) of gloomy old Ingmar Bergman’s Seventh Seal. It made me chuckle and I hope it has the same effect on you.
Charming story here from Australia about funeral director John Hopkins who brings his dog Finbarr to work every day.
“He’s a great icebreaker,” John said. “Families come in here not knowing what to expect.
“They often haven’t dealt with a funeral home before and they’re apprehensive.
“He gives them a lick and will lie at their feet and start snoring – it makes them feel more relaxed.”
John enjoys telling the story of the time ‘Fin’ was asked to lead a funeral procession and ride in the hearse to a funeral by a family.
And where do you suppose the good Mr Hopkins was born? Why, Wagga Wagga!
Here’s a bit of fun. Over in New York there’s an exhibition in the Merchant’s House Museum of post mortem photographs from the Burns Archive. It’s an interesting exhibition space:
According to historic preservation rules the installation had to be creatively planned. No photos could be hung on the walls or placed directly on the furniture of this beautifully preserved 19th century home, nor could there be bright lights or flash photography. Memento Mori curator Eva Ulz did a great job of displaying a rich amount of information to compliment the historical and contemporary images. Early daguerreotypes and ambrotypes are exhibited in closets, waiting to be discovered. Three traditional wood displays encase memorial ephemera including postmortem photographs, coffin plates and cards. There is a sound and scent component to the exhibition as well- the rooms are perfumed and subtle recordings can be heard.
The best part, for my money, is the coffin in which you can have your own post-mortem photo taken. No Goth party should be without one.
