Reflecting upon mortality… part 6…


Not only did the Egyptians pioneer the idea of ‘oh yes you can bring it with you’, but they had some other interesting ideas about death… or the afterlife.  The idea of being mummified does not appeal to me personally. I already have plans about where my ashes should be scattered, with the remainder being placed under a memorial tree near my best friend, John. It has a lovely view of the San Francisco Bay. I have posted pictures from that spot, and of his tree and the tiki-stakes I carved for him.

Those are the two ends of the spectrum, I suppose. Have your body preserved forever, or just get rid of it quickly. Or let it rot in the ground. What do you plan to do?

When I was a teenager, I did have an idea that, if I died young… as I always sort of expected to… I would have my body dressed in bell-bottom blue jeans covered with patches, and my favorite Bad Company T-shirt with the big pot leaf on it, and then, holding a beer in one hand and a bong in the other, I would be embedded in a large, clear block of acrylic plastic, and stuck somewhere as a tourist attraction.

Now, you might think that I have matured a little over the years… but only because you obviously don’t know all the details of what my friends are supposed to do with my ashes.


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2 Responses to Reflecting upon mortality… part 6…

  1. My father decided years ago to say to hell with the traditional Roman Catholic funeral / burial mess and get cremated. Of course, we’d all long abandoned Roman Catholicism by the time he died last year. Funerals are too damn costly, and we’re running out of burial land anyway. My father’s ashes are ensconced in a marble urn that’s permanently sealed and sitting on the fireplace hearth. I touch it every day (sometimes more than once a day) and tell him I love him. It’s something of a good luck / piece of mind thing for me.

    A close friend who’s visited Hawaii several times over the past 30+ years says he wants to be cremated, too, but have his ashes scattered over one of the volcanoes out there. I think I’ll be cremated, as well, and have my ashes bottled with the finest tequila and sold at exorbitant prices. Proceeds will be split between the ASPCA and a writing scholarship at some college I’ll select in the near future.

    Ashes to ashes! Like I told another friend who’d developed a ‘whoa-is-me’ attitude when he got sick several years ago: the world won’t stop turning because your ass drops dead!

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