The Good Funeral Guide

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?

Time spent on a Monday morning in the company of Don unfailingly gets the week going with a smile.

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 (above) in which you can have your own post-mortem photo taken. No Goth party should be without one.

If you catch me reflecting too often on the travails of too-long life, this story may act as an antidote.

It reminds me of a crisis faced by Winston Churchill. I can only paraphrase. An aide greeted him with the news, one morning, that a member of the cabinet had been found consorting in St James’s Park with a member of the Household Cavalry. “And how old is So-and-So?” asked Churchill. “Seventy-eight, prime minister.” “And what was the the temperature outside last night?” “Seven degrees below freezing, prime minister.” “My God, it makes you proud to be British!”

I wonder if you spent any time over at The Modern Mourner yesterday? If you didn’t, think again and have a gander. It is the creation of Shirley Tatum, a generous spirit who signposts her readers to all manner of more or less wonderful designers. Okay, there’s nothing quite so divisive as taste, but I’m going to nail my colours to the mast here. I love ‘em.

Here’s Shirley’s manifesto: My goal is to bring a sense of design to the way we mourn. I’ve noticed how much care goes into the aesthetics of weddings and births, but there seems to be little consideration when it comes to funerals and remembrance. There are so many aspects that need to be overhauled in the funeral industry – from attitudes toward death to industry practices. Design & mourning is a little niche that I’ve chosen to focus on, and hope to make a difference.

Before long I hope she will write a guest post here.

On her site she has an interview with Patrick McNally, aka The Daily Undertaker, whom I think we all admire hugely. If you’ve never been, go now. Here’s Patrick’s response to one of Shirley’s questions:

The word “Undertaker” is actually quite beautiful, but it’s a word most Americans have come to fear. Why is that?
‘Undertaker’ originally described a person who undertook to provide funeral services and goods, not someone who takes your body under the ground, and it had a neutral connotation. However, all words that are used to describe things that we are uncomfortable with end up taking on a negative tinge. When we change the word to remove the negative feeling, though, we solve nothing other than confusing people about what we really do. ‘Mortician’ is a fancied-up job title like ‘beautician’ and Funeral Director was the next step after that, but what does that title even mean? To effect a real change we need to talk openly about death, and stop changing the words associated with it. When you say ‘Undertaker’, everyone knows what you are talking about whether they are aware of the origins of the word or not. It’s plain talk and yes, plain talk has a real beauty to it.

One of the designers and makers Shirley signposts is LBrandt Terraria, which supplies an entirely new receptacle for ashes/memento mori with a strong delight factor,  as evidenced in the pic at the top.

Chirpiness and high-jinking are, I think we agree, out of place in a mourning scenario and/or environment. If you are freshly bereaved, that screamingly funny but in the circs totally unfunny ringtone on your phone is definitely going to jar if not shatter decorous, contemplative gloom. The same with undertakers. Yes yes, you need to be in touch with HQ, but if the noise of your phone going off is downright irruptive and nonappropriate you’re outa place.

Which is why I was very pleased to find this small selection of topping Abide With Me ringtones. Download the one you fancy. Everyone’ll nod solemnly in approbation.

Ah-ha! I have just been made aware that the link don’t work. But it takes you to the right website. Just type ‘Abide With Me ringtone’ into the search box and you’ll be there.