I confess to a longing to repose in a place, an odd longing, perhaps, given my innate restlessness, but then again, maybe not. I don’t much mind whether or not I am converted to compact chunks or not, as I do not anticipate the knee bone being connected to the thigh bone on some great day of bodily resurrection, but I rather like to think that once I am gone, for a while there may be a few who will come to sit in a certain place and think of me.
I have been wandering grave yards and cemeteries since I was a small child. Being cremated is a real NO! I want to be buried – I like the thought of being able to visit something tangible – for a loved one to be in one place, a safe place where for as long as makes any difference they will be left alone.
I don’t want any ceremony – just get me buried and my spot marked. I guess I ought to be making preparations in that direction – get me a plot or something?
I have always loved the grand statements made by the Victorians – ah, they knew how to bury folk in the 19th century.
I have always loved this from:
E.M. Forster’s A Passage to India
‘The Rose will blossom and the Spring will bloom,
But those who have secretly understood my heart –
They will approach and visit the grave where I lie.’
I wish to be cremated. If I precede, Danny promised me he would carry my ashes to the houses of friends and visit with them. For those who smoke cigarettes, he would drop a bit of my ash in the ashtray as they talked remembering me. For those who don’t smoke, perhaps he might drop a bit of ash on their porches where we sat lost in delicious conversations on many occasions. For the larger portion of ashes, perhaps he would carry them to Lake Michigan, not so far from where I was born and where we spent some glorious times, over the course of a few years, a few years ago, at a cottage our friends once owned there. Walk on the beach and shake them onto the sand at the water’s edge to be lapped into the waves.
I don’t have a wish, Rick. I guess I always imagined I would be buried somewhere, but whatever the most convenient/cheapest/respectful for whoever buries me prefers is fine.
Well, I’m actually ambivalent on this one. For years I thought I wanted to be cremated with my ashes scattered from a coffee can. But the idea of being stuffed and put on display, a la Jeremy Bentham, just really appeals to me–it so suits my sensibility.
And if I go first, Sheila can have the taxidermied me.
Doesn’t matter to me since we will all be cremated in four billion years or so anyway. I like Derek’s wild animal notion though. Also, being thrown into a live volcano might be nice if the people doing it like volcanoes. Oh–being squeezed into a diamond for industrial use would be good; I can imagine being part of a diamond saw cutting through rock….
Cindy, it was most generous of you – I’d like a little piece of you – is taxiderming parts an option? – you know much like an elephants foot as an umbrella stand.
I of course would love the whole you but for space reasons I wonder if a foot would be okay?
I think breaking me into parts and sealing them in lucite might be the way to go. Maybe include some rhinestones and sparkles. However y’all want to do it is fine with me–I won’t be around to control things for a change.
A question for Sheila and Phil: Do you want to be embalmed and placed in a casket? And do you want to be buried in a contemporary cemetery? Those are the aspects of burials that creep me out. I can understand being wrapped in a sheet and thrown into the dirt in the desert, with rocks on top of the grave and a little marker indicating that space as one’s own. I definitely see the beauty in that.
Cindy – no embalming for me – I just want to be buried in a nice cemetery. Wooden box with a nice slab of marble on top. I’d prefer something sinister, a place over grown and dark, but, I think I’m being picky – a box and some marble – my name and that’s it.
My wife wants me to stuff her and turn her into an animatronic version of herself to spook future wife #2 applicants. I’ve agreed as long as the cat gets to be stuffed too and she’s stroking it a la Blofeld.
Oh, Chris, that is exciting! Sheila and I know an artist who works with taxidermy, and one of her goals is to animate taxidermied pieces. I keep hoping to find someone who can help her with this process, because I want an animated dead bird really bad.
I have a photo of a school of taxidermy sign. I have never stuffed anything but when I was in the police I used to love watching the post mortems. Mortuaries are great places – calm and quet once you get past the odd smell.
Hey, folks, I’m on the road, so I’ll be sporadic for a while in general.
I used to tell my sisters they should put me in a pine box, put the box in the bed of a pickup, and drive me down to Chalk Mountain, Texas, where there is an old family cemetery my ‘people’ can be buried in for free. I’ve got grandparents, a great-grandfather, and great-great-grandparents there, as well as great-great-aunts and -uncles. And being there’s still fine with me, but I don’t actually care anymore. They can cremate me; donate me to science; or–if I become unable–I want my nieces or nephew to take me deep-sea fishing and let me slip overboard.
Abbey Burial- Take me out to a desert, or the mountains I’ve hiked, or maybe some of my own land, wrap me up in cloth and place a few feet into the earth– enough that no kid will get terrified by accident. I want to continue to be a part of the ecosystem, not forever apart. As for the ceremony: tons of dancing and singing and a good grill with steaks and corn on the cob. A good time for all, one last party.
I would like to be put in a paper box or wrapped in a sheet, and like Collin said, placed a few feet into the earth. I want to become part of the ecosystem as well. Before that, if anyone would like to harvest any usable parts in me or use me for necrophilia, I would be pleased as punch.
Sheila: in a shallow grave so that every few years we can accidentally discover you and have a murder investigation. It’ll lend to the charm of the place.
I never meant to skip this question. It just deserves more mental acuity than I had time to give it for the last few days.
I’ve never wanted to be buried whole. I wouldn’t want my rotting flesh taking up space that could be used for much better projects — community gardens, soccer matches, outdoor weddings. So it’s of utmost importance to me that I be reduced to ashes.
While I understand the charm of staking my remains to a place easily accessible for regular visits, I tend to commune with the dead wherever and whenever I need to.* If I’m lucky, my kids and grandkids will learn to do this with me and I won’t need a conservative place to rest.
So, basically… If y’all want to talk to me after I’m dead, do it wherever and whenever you best remember me.
* For instance, I check in with my grandma while I’m out and about in my neighborhood. There’s a tower mere blocks away from my apartment that I associate with her, and it might as well be a tombstone by the way I interact with it.
Whatever, I’m not using them any more. Let people do with my remains as best comforts them.
Just no necrophilia.
I confess to a longing to repose in a place, an odd longing, perhaps, given my innate restlessness, but then again, maybe not. I don’t much mind whether or not I am converted to compact chunks or not, as I do not anticipate the knee bone being connected to the thigh bone on some great day of bodily resurrection, but I rather like to think that once I am gone, for a while there may be a few who will come to sit in a certain place and think of me.
cremated…flushed, sprinkled, scattered; it really doesn’t matter how — or where — to me.
I have been wandering grave yards and cemeteries since I was a small child. Being cremated is a real NO! I want to be buried – I like the thought of being able to visit something tangible – for a loved one to be in one place, a safe place where for as long as makes any difference they will be left alone.
I don’t want any ceremony – just get me buried and my spot marked. I guess I ought to be making preparations in that direction – get me a plot or something?
I have always loved the grand statements made by the Victorians – ah, they knew how to bury folk in the 19th century.
I have always loved this from:
E.M. Forster’s A Passage to India
‘The Rose will blossom and the Spring will bloom,
But those who have secretly understood my heart –
They will approach and visit the grave where I lie.’
Eaten by other animals. No doubt about that. Preferably a tiger or lion or wolves. But dumped in the ocean for fish food is okay too.
I wish to be cremated. If I precede, Danny promised me he would carry my ashes to the houses of friends and visit with them. For those who smoke cigarettes, he would drop a bit of my ash in the ashtray as they talked remembering me. For those who don’t smoke, perhaps he might drop a bit of ash on their porches where we sat lost in delicious conversations on many occasions. For the larger portion of ashes, perhaps he would carry them to Lake Michigan, not so far from where I was born and where we spent some glorious times, over the course of a few years, a few years ago, at a cottage our friends once owned there. Walk on the beach and shake them onto the sand at the water’s edge to be lapped into the waves.
I don’t have a wish, Rick. I guess I always imagined I would be buried somewhere, but whatever the most convenient/cheapest/respectful for whoever buries me prefers is fine.
Well, I’m actually ambivalent on this one. For years I thought I wanted to be cremated with my ashes scattered from a coffee can. But the idea of being stuffed and put on display, a la Jeremy Bentham, just really appeals to me–it so suits my sensibility.
And if I go first, Sheila can have the taxidermied me.
Doesn’t matter to me since we will all be cremated in four billion years or so anyway. I like Derek’s wild animal notion though. Also, being thrown into a live volcano might be nice if the people doing it like volcanoes. Oh–being squeezed into a diamond for industrial use would be good; I can imagine being part of a diamond saw cutting through rock….
Reviewing y’all’s responses, it would seem that Phil and I are the soppy romantics of the Flock.
Dave, are you willing to snuggle after you’re dead?
I don’t know about that, Sheila. My offering to you of my displayed remains seems oh-so-romantical to me!
Cindy, it was most generous of you – I’d like a little piece of you – is taxiderming parts an option? – you know much like an elephants foot as an umbrella stand.
I of course would love the whole you but for space reasons I wonder if a foot would be okay?
Very romantical, Cindy, and very 19-c.!
I would like some hair jewelry from you.
[...] We have been speaking of mortal remains. [...]
I think breaking me into parts and sealing them in lucite might be the way to go. Maybe include some rhinestones and sparkles. However y’all want to do it is fine with me–I won’t be around to control things for a change.
We’ll all be fighting over you, Cindy.
Deron, post mortem snuggling would not upset me in the least.
A question for Sheila and Phil: Do you want to be embalmed and placed in a casket? And do you want to be buried in a contemporary cemetery? Those are the aspects of burials that creep me out. I can understand being wrapped in a sheet and thrown into the dirt in the desert, with rocks on top of the grave and a little marker indicating that space as one’s own. I definitely see the beauty in that.
Cindy, I must think about the embalming business. I’ve done enough drugs that I don’t think it would make much difference.
Dang! Where is Walt when we need him?
I mean Walt who, among other things, practices the art of embalming and sometimes comments on clusterflock.
It would be nice if Walt Whitman were with us, too.
Oh, yeah–that Walt!
Just fill the body cavity with frankincense and honey. Oh–and don’t forget to pull that old brain out through the nose with hooks.
Cindy – no embalming for me – I just want to be buried in a nice cemetery. Wooden box with a nice slab of marble on top. I’d prefer something sinister, a place over grown and dark, but, I think I’m being picky – a box and some marble – my name and that’s it.
My wife wants me to stuff her and turn her into an animatronic version of herself to spook future wife #2 applicants. I’ve agreed as long as the cat gets to be stuffed too and she’s stroking it a la Blofeld.
Me? Scatter my ashes at Jug Island.
Oh, Chris, that is exciting! Sheila and I know an artist who works with taxidermy, and one of her goals is to animate taxidermied pieces. I keep hoping to find someone who can help her with this process, because I want an animated dead bird really bad.
I have a photo of a school of taxidermy sign. I have never stuffed anything but when I was in the police I used to love watching the post mortems. Mortuaries are great places – calm and quet once you get past the odd smell.
Hey, folks, I’m on the road, so I’ll be sporadic for a while in general.
I used to tell my sisters they should put me in a pine box, put the box in the bed of a pickup, and drive me down to Chalk Mountain, Texas, where there is an old family cemetery my ‘people’ can be buried in for free. I’ve got grandparents, a great-grandfather, and great-great-grandparents there, as well as great-great-aunts and -uncles. And being there’s still fine with me, but I don’t actually care anymore. They can cremate me; donate me to science; or–if I become unable–I want my nieces or nephew to take me deep-sea fishing and let me slip overboard.
Abbey Burial- Take me out to a desert, or the mountains I’ve hiked, or maybe some of my own land, wrap me up in cloth and place a few feet into the earth– enough that no kid will get terrified by accident. I want to continue to be a part of the ecosystem, not forever apart. As for the ceremony: tons of dancing and singing and a good grill with steaks and corn on the cob. A good time for all, one last party.
I would like to be put in a paper box or wrapped in a sheet, and like Collin said, placed a few feet into the earth. I want to become part of the ecosystem as well. Before that, if anyone would like to harvest any usable parts in me or use me for necrophilia, I would be pleased as punch.
Rick, if you go before me, I would love to have some of your ashes sprinkled under one of the trees in my yard where I sit.
I want to be buried out behind the Clusterflock Inn.
Sheila: in a shallow grave so that every few years we can accidentally discover you and have a murder investigation. It’ll lend to the charm of the place.
Dave, maybe I can haunt the joint in my spare time.
But if I work both as the resident ghost and the resident corpse, I will want to claim time-and-a-half.
I never meant to skip this question. It just deserves more mental acuity than I had time to give it for the last few days.
I’ve never wanted to be buried whole. I wouldn’t want my rotting flesh taking up space that could be used for much better projects — community gardens, soccer matches, outdoor weddings. So it’s of utmost importance to me that I be reduced to ashes.
While I understand the charm of staking my remains to a place easily accessible for regular visits, I tend to commune with the dead wherever and whenever I need to.* If I’m lucky, my kids and grandkids will learn to do this with me and I won’t need a conservative place to rest.
So, basically… If y’all want to talk to me after I’m dead, do it wherever and whenever you best remember me.
* For instance, I check in with my grandma while I’m out and about in my neighborhood. There’s a tower mere blocks away from my apartment that I associate with her, and it might as well be a tombstone by the way I interact with it.
sheila,
i’m finally here. i write my licensing exams tomorrow and thursday to get my full license, so i’ve been incommunicado while studying… stuff.
as for me, my wife has been told implicitly and explicitly that, much like Thomas Lynch, she’ll know what to do with me when I’m gone.
She’ll be the one grieving (I hope) and so she’ll need to make it hers in terms of her own needs.
She agrees, and has told me the same.
Being in the business, I have an easier time having these conversations, but it still ain’t easy.
See you guys, I dunno, Thursday night, if I’m sober by then, otherwise… who knows.