The Day the Corpse Lent Me A Tie

I often start my day at 5 AM. I have a routine with my dog Pugsley that I dare not miss. I look forward to our routine. It is quality time for the two of us that is only rivaled by our ritual afternoon walks. A funeral service at 10:00 means that visiting starts at 9:00 and we typically have to be there much earlier to have everything set up. A church service requires us to transport everything, including the deceased to the church the morning of the service. We often are just finishing set up as the family arrives in the parking area, at which point I scramble to make sure everyone is parked where they need to be for the procession to the cemetery.

This was not one of those early days. These days always throw me off my game. With a service at noon, everything is pushed back a few hours. When I awake in the morning, I go into a completely different mode. Everything is a little more relaxed. Not so rushed as it typically can be. There was no snow to clear, the hearse was washed, gassed and ready for service. A sense of calm permeates the morning. Until I realize that I've got to leave in 30 minutes and I haven't even showered yet. I quickly rushed through my shower and shave and got myself dressed for the day. I was out the door right on schedule. I drove to the garage, switched cars and proceeded to the funeral home to pick up our guest of honor today and take him to the church. As I drove, I reached to straighten my tie. That's when I realized that I wasn't wearing one. I do not have enough time to scurry back home and get one. So I press on, hoping that someone at the funeral home will have a spare. Then I double checked everything else. Did I put on pants? Am I driving the right vehicle? Am I going to the correct funeral home? Wait! What day is it? What time was I supposed to be there?! Everything else checked out and I proceeded.

When I arrived at the funeral home, I informed the director of the situation. He did not have one, but assured me we would find one somewhere. We searched the employee areas, high and low. He went upstairs into the apartment thinking that surely there would be one there. He found one with a huge stain on it and would not let me be seen with such a mess, representing his establishment. To the basement we went. Into the preproom where another deceased man was awaiting his turn to be viewed by his family and friends. There it was, the perfect tie. The director looked at me, I looked at him. We both shrugged and I thanked the man for the use of his tie for the day and promised to return it before his viewing this evening.

Engulfed in Color

I wish it had lasted longer and that I had a camera ready when it happened. Instead I will paint a picture for your mind that blew mine.

It was cold and dark this morning. There was a frost on the car in the driveway that delayed my departure to this morning's service. Eventually, I was able to head out to the garage where we keep the hearses. I quickly switched cars and hurried on my way to the funeral home.

As I traversed the freeway through the open farmland and light began to fill the morning sky, I noticed a thick fog obscuring my view of the fall colors. About half way to my destination, I noticed the moist air was drenching the freshly polished funeral coach.
A little annoyed at the thought of water streaks on the paint, I watched as the water streamed across the side window.

That's when I saw it. Beyond the window was the most vivid green color I had ever seen. I turned to keep my eyes on the road, as a good driver does, and I noticed that everything ahead of me was an amazing red color. I blinked a few times not understanding what was happening. I then surveyed everything around me. Color was everywhere! That is when I realized that the rising sun was hitting the fog all around me refracting the light in a rainbow like I had never seen before. I was inside the rainbow!

I've never even heard of this being possible. It lasted for only about 30 seconds before I drove out of the fog patch. I kept looking for more, but I guess it was a once in a lifetime moment.

This got me to thinking. With all the scientific knowledge that we have now, we can easily understand what was happening. But what would someone a few hundred or even a thousand years ago think of such an occurrence? Simple scientific phenomenon or miracle? Or both?

Either way, I am so glad it happened to me.

Two Old Ladies

In the past two days, I've buried two women.

Each of them was ninety-six years young upon their deaths. These women lived in different towns at least an hours drive from each other. Both women had spent their entire lives in their home towns. 

I thought about the lives that they have lived. Having lived through the second world war, watching the invasion of the automobile in our world and overall a completely different world from where they came evolve around them. I thought of the towns where they lived their lives and how rural they are and how remote they must have been as these young girls went to grammar school. Even today one of them was down a narrow, gravel road over hills and curves. Poor land for farming but beautiful beyond words.

Something else these two women had in common was the fact that almost 60 years ago, they and their husbands purchased their cemetery plots and headstones. Both had chosen a large stone with room to share with their husbands. And it was common in that time to put the  year of birth and leave the death year blank to indicate they are still living. However, at that time, no one would think that they would ever live to be so old. The average life expectancy was only 54. They would have been around 40 when these stones were purchased. They thought nothing of engraving a "19__" for the death dates. Who would ever think that they would see the turn of the century back then?

One chose to have brass plaques placed over the dates and new dates placed on those. The other chose to have the stone filled with a resin and re-engraved.

The other thing that struck me about these two women was their commitment they made to their husbands. Yes, they had been together 20 years at the point of purchasing the stones. But then to live for another 50+ years together and still wish to be buried next to him. I wondered how many people today would be willing to make such a commitment. Have we become to complacent? Does marriage mean what it used to? Or did our grandparents just suffer through because it was expected of them. Something tells me that it is the later.
What do you think?

An Honest Look

A couple days ago, I posted photos and thoughts about the death of the city that is 25 miles from my home. I know that it made quite an impact on those that have seen it.  The scene from the Packard Plant makes a person gasp in disbelief. That is not a bombed out building. That is what 50 years of neglect and vandalism looks like.

This image is an ideal photo of the beautiful city of Detroit as seen from Windsor, Ontario, Canada.

A picturesque image that falsely portrays a city full of life in the evening.

From the riverfront view in Hart Plaza even, it appears to be a city full of life and promise.

The fairly new addition of a new stadium for the Detroit Tigers and arena for the Lions, do their best to bring the suburbanites back to the city. It looks amazing in this photo. But when you zoom in to street level, you see the beggers and dealers following the game-goers to their cars. Along Woodward avenue is wonderful things like the historic Fox Theatre, Orchestra Hall, several museums and a first class hospital network. But get one block in any direction and the picture changes.

You are about to see the real Detroit.

These photos will rip your heart from your chest.

They are very real.

In many cities, after a neighborhood takes a turn for the worst,

thrifty buyers will come in and fix up the old historic homes.

That is not going to be the case in Detroit.

The future for even this once grand entertainment hall does not look well.

Look closely and you will see laundry hanging to dry from a second story window at this condemned apartment building.

The streets are lined with rubble and garbage in front of what used to be thriving businesses.

These sights are not rare and it doesn't take any searching to find them.

Everywhere you look, there are ghostly reminders of a once powerful city.

Grand homes where many children were raised.

Family dinners were served and holidays celebrated.

Kwame Kilpatrick was certainly not the best mayor in the world. But sorry folks, Kwame didn't kill Detroit. He was raised in a society that taught him the world owed him. He made deals with his friends to do work around the city, took bribes, had affairs and lied about everything. It's nothing that everyone around him wasn't already doing. It's the only life he knew. He had no idea that it was wrong.

It was the people of Detroit that voted for the corrupt city council based on the lies they told. It was the drug dealers taking over otherwise good neighborhoods and no body stopping them. It was the never ending race riots that started back in the 60's and still goes on today. It's a city filled with bigots, racist, liars, and thugs. The city that has tried to spread its warped views with the rest of the world in the form of "music" and "history". Detroit has become what it deserves. 

This last photo is again by 

my friend Aimee.

Is this photo a metaphor for Detroit itself?

Can we get past the rubble and ruins,

Beyond the grave yard,

and to a new renascence.

Only time will tell.

A Jewish Perspective: The Completeion

Even more so than the Catholics, the people of the Jewish faith, maintain their own cemeteries and have their own customs when it comes to preparing the dead for burial. This is a peek into the views of the church on the subject of cremation.

For part one of this article, see yesterdays post.

When we left off yesterday in Rabbi Levin's article, Adam had just buried his first son. Let's rejoin the Rabbi to get the rest of his perspective.

Burials became the norm and until the pagan tradition of burning on the pyre, burial in the ground was the accepted practice. Throughout history, Jews have been described as the people who bury their dead. The Torah commands us to "surely bury" – even the executed criminal. It's a shame that the People of the Book need to become copy cats of the latest culture; a culture that now has such a large percentage of people agreeing to cremation. Maybe subconsciously people want to be cremated – because if we respect our bodies due to the holiness it carries, then we are expected to live that way – a sublime responsibility – one that many don't necessarily want to commit to.

When Adolph Eichmann, one of the most despicable humans ever, was tried in Israel in 1962, the leadership of the country forbade burial for him – no shrine for this degenerate. They ordered cremation and dispersion of his ashes onto the Mediterranean. Now, isn't this exactly the opposite of what we want for our loved ones?

When Adam was created, G-d, says the Talmud gathered earth from all corners of the globe to make up Adam (adama in hebrew means earth), in order that wherever he dies, earth again will be able to absorb him – ready for hiding until t'chiyas hamaisim.

Years ago, when I was invited to speak at a conference of Jewish burial practices, I pleaded with the group of Rabbis and laypeople not to offer cremation as an alternative practice. Our generation, I said, the generation after the Holocaust should understand this better than most. (In fact, according to a South Florida editorial, the further away we Jews get from this period of the Holocaust, the less distasteful cremation becomes.) We are not the refuse that the degenerates of society thought we were and practiced with us. We are G-d's children, G-d's jewels. We should be hidden after life in "mother" earth, and not disposed of.

It is for these reasons that Jewish law says "no shiva is observed – no Kaddish said, no mourning or burial practices to those who are willfully cremated. They are considered by tradition to have abandoned Jewishness and have surrendered their rights to a posthumous honor.

For so many monumental questions people of the world look to the Jews for answers. When the Chief of Staff of Columbia Presbyterian Hospital in New York was asked "when is the moment of death" regarding the complex issue of brain death – he answered simply – "when the little old Rabbi on the lower east side tells me – then I'll know." He was, of course, referring to Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, the premier decider of halachic issues for a half a century. (Rav Moshe was about 5 feet tall). Before the President of the USA weighed in on capital punishment, he needed Rabbi Feinstein's opinion. I wonder why, then, the people who are described as "the light to all nations" need to look to darkness for their direction in life?

Some people have stated that the reason they want to be cremated is so they should not be a burden on their families, not to use up ground space (for environmental reasons) and obligate funds for grave care and monuments. I wish they would consider that maybe their families appreciate that burden. Sure funerals, caskets, burials and the erecting of monuments are financially difficult and psychologically taxing, but this is the price we pay for love. For family and friends to forever be able to visit, pray and even cry at a loved ones grave site is an honor, not a burden. To read a tombstone and feel uplifted by the sweet memories of a life that has been loved and shared contributes to the totality of the human experience. This inspiration allows us to transcend the difficulties of the moment and the pressures of the pocketbook. Let us also remember the affirmation to us and to all of mankind, that life is not over with the tragedy we call death, but rather the everlasting soul – the G-dly part of us, truly lives on eternally. This unfortunately is so lost by the sad, immediate destruction of cremation.

So let us, the people that G-d himself describes as his special nation, embrace the instructions of our Creator with gratitude that our way in life and indeed in death has eternal ramifications. Ashrainu ma tov chalkainu. (Fortunate is our lot).

Rabbi Boruch E. Levin




I look not to offend anyone by posting this article. I do have respect for the Jewish faith as well as all faiths. I make no claims that one is right and another is wrong. I have formed my own beliefs over the years; An educated belief. But I do not discount any one's beliefs or rituals. Each person should be allowed to form their own opinions and practice their own life as they see fit.

I do find this to be an intriguing topic and may expand more on it in future post.

In contrast to what the Rabbi has written here, I tend to agree more with our friend Anne who wrote about part one....
 " My people (traveller types - children of the earth) believe that you have to burn the body, and anything too closely associated with it, to ensure that the soul can be free. If you keep too many of the dead person's things you hold them back from the next life. Traditionally they would burn the caravan and everything in it - with the body inside. 
Same idea - completely different approach."

In the end, whatever you choose, must satisfy your grieving process. That is what a funeral is for.

A Jewish Perspective

Working in the funeral business over the years, I've had the opportunity to take part in many different types of funerals. One that I have never been a part of is one that you would think that I would, is a Jewish service. After all, I am named after my Uncle Stewart Winstein. My aunt married Stewart before I was born. Although she was raised Catholic, she chose to convert and raise my cousin in the Jewish faith.

That being said, I do know a little about the faith and I know that in the Jewish faith, they believe that the body must be buried whole. I won't go into detail just yet. But basically, that means that they will not go for the ever popular trend of cremating the body. So while putting together the showroom/ selection room at the funeral home, I ran across a catalog that contained urns with the Star of David engraved on them.

There were wood urns that resembled books.

 There were metal urns that were sleek and modern.











There were classically styled urns that colored the Star of David with the color of the flag from Israel.







There was even jewelry that could contain a small amount of ashes to be carried with you wherever you went.









The whole idea of urns and cremation in general seems a little strange when thinking of a Jewish funeral. So I decided to look up what the official views on cremation are in the Synagogue.

I found this article from Rabbi Boruch E. Levin. It's a little long but as someone that makes a living taking people to the cemetery, I found his words to be intriguing and even entertaining. I almost wish other religions felt this way. That being said, I'm looking forward to being put into the oven when I'm done.

A Perspective on Cremation

Did you ever notice that when the news channels want to show the ultimate desecration that protesters have for an opposing country, they display pictures of flag burnings or forms of our leaders burned in effigy? Tragically, in the year 1244, when Gentiles wanted to disgrace our religion, they took 24 wagon loads of Torah scrolls, Medrash and the Talmud and burned them in the center of Paris. Around that period, Maimonides' books were also defamed through burning. We burn that which we wish to discard, humiliate or degrade. Before pollution concerns, we routinely burned our garbage as a quick elimination of a problem. But we never burn or discard something holy or precious. The experts have predicted that in the very near future a full 50% of United States dispositions of human remains will be cremated. After death, families will choose to turn their loved ones into ashes, gases and vapor. Unfortunately this practice has influenced Jewish families as well and more and more are considering this end. I think it behooves us to look at our Jewish teachings and traditions before such a decision is made and since our reaction to death is really governed by how we lived, lets begin there. Our belief is that all of Creation was made to assist humans on their journey. Why else can we slaughter animals and enjoy their succulent meat? Why can we skin leopards for their beautiful fur? Why are we 'better' or more important than beautiful trees that we use for gorgeous wooden bookcases? Practically everything we do and own, shouts the message of a higher purpose. But this comes with a price – you – humans – better be greater – wiser, and even holier than the rest of creation and you better have an elevated calling, because if not, then we should be vegetarians and maybe we should think of building nursing homes for old chickens that should never see the inside of our ovens. But what is this higher purpose? What does our Creator expect from us? As Jews we are told through the Torah, 'to emulate our Creator, to do loving kindness, to respect our elders and to fulfill the commands of G-d'. All these Mitzvos are avenues, Kabbalah tells us, designed by the Chief Designer, for us to become incrementally closer to Him – to become holier and less animalistic. Why were we given such wonderful talents, such awesome abilities, such powerful minds, if all we are expected to do is to eat, drink and be merry? G-d fused in each of us a Neshoma, a holy soul to be our light, our conscience, and our driving force, to do the good that is expected of us. We are, however, constantly, challenged by the darker side of a human, the evil side that pulls us down, and emphasizes only our physical. It is precisely that challenge that G-d appreciates and G-d rewards. But, understandably, if He rewards us here then that challenge diminishes. In order to see who really are the "few good men" – the rewards are given in the next world – a world in which we must have faith. G-d promised a resurrection of the dead - t'chiyas hamaisim. Our Rabbis write that in nature we see a fascinating example of this in a caterpillar, a lowly creature that crawls ever so slowly. However, at the end of its existence – its first existence – it "dies", curls up in a cocoon and if we would dissect it then, it would look rotted. But amazingly, it re-incarnates to a beautiful existence – to a flying butterfly with gorgeous wings. Truly a t'chiyas hamasim. Maybe G-d wanted us to see an example of t'chiyas hamasim to "bring home" this phenomenon, this fundamental Jewish belief, because denying the resurrection is a major Jewish offense. One of the reasons cited for the Jewish prohibition of cremation is that cremation demonstrates by its active destruction of the body, the disbelief in t'chiyas hamasim. Cremation also indicates a lack of sensitivity to our lofty existence – our purposeful life – which contrasts so clearly the difference between us and that which we routinely eliminate. If we are truly the fusion of a G-dly soul to our body, then the body must be respected for housing that soul. "Man", the pinnacle of creation (indicated by man's existence coming chronologically last during creation) this tzelem E-lokim a form made in the "image of G-d" – surely cannot be shown the same quick end as something we wish to throw away. A Sefer Torah that has aged and is not readable, never ends up in a trash heap or burned but is buried in a place called geniza, which means hiding place, – so too should man. Just as the burning of a national flag is a moral offense because of what it signifies, so too, is the act of cremation. No one, certainly not a son or daughter, would dream of mutilating their loved one after death. Judaism directs us to lovingly wash the deceased and dress them in spotlessly white shrouds after the taharah, the purification ceremony is performed, and we carefully place them in a casket to be lowered into the ground. The body is treated with the utmost respect. It is never left alone and we are not permitted to show any frivolity in its presence. The stark difference between this and a crematorium is so evident. The Talmud tells us that if the torah wasn't given to us, we would learn much from animals. We would learn modesty from the cat. We would learn morality from the dove. We would learn integrity from the ant. In that light, I wish to mention a Midrash. When Adam sat in front of his dead son Hevel – the first dead human in history, he did not know what to do with the lifeless body. A raven flew near him carrying a dead raven in his beak. The raven proceeded to scrape the ground until a furrow was dug – large enough to place the dead bird in and then the raven covered and literally buried the dead bird. Adam saw this instinctive act of the raven and proceeded to do the same for the body of his son. We will finish this article tomorrow. For now, go and slaughter an animal and enjoy it's succulent meat.

Sunrise

For years, I have been trying to figure out the thought process behind the design layout of the road system in the metropolitan Detroit area. For the out-of-towner, the roads are labeled in numerical order by mile, running East and West. Just to confuse everyone, some cities rename the road with a name of someone of historical importance, that used to live there a long time ago. For instance, I live near 21 Mile Road. A mile North of me is 22 Mile Road. But a mile South, you will not find 20 Mile Road. Instead, you will find M-59 or Rosso Hwy or Hall Rd. or Highland Rd. depending on what city you are in. Sometimes due to rivers or whatever, the road is discontinued for a while only to show up again with a different name. You constantly have to translate what road it is to give directions.

But that's not the worst part.

The worst part is that all these Mile Roads run straight East and West. Therefor, at sunrise and sunset every day. this is what you see as you drive along the road. With other cars turning on and off the road as well as signal lights at the intersections, sunrise in the morning heading East and sunset in the evening heading West can be a challenge.

All week long has been busy with funerals in the morning. And everyday this week, this is what I have been faced with to get to my garage and then off to the job. And for the record, as you can see in the picture, there is a turn lane approaching on the right. That also indicates there is a busy intersection directly ahead of me and yes, the light is red.

My regular readers know that I love a sunrise in the morning. It brings with it infinite possibilities. But mostly, this brings with it the possibility of disaster.

Brighter News

As I stood in the snow today for several hours lining up cars as they arrived for the funeral,

I contemplated the mysteries of the universe.
I thought about the snow.
I thought about the cold.
I thought about summer.
I miss summer.

As the wind blew and the direction of the weather vane changed again, the snow started to fall even heavier and wetter.
I thought about the bleak, colorlessness of winter.
I miss summer.

Then when the service was over and the casket had been buried in the frozen earth, I headed back across the marsh to my nice warm home.

That's when I realized that unless you are a follower of mine on facebook, then you don't know the big news yet.



This last year, sales have been very good for us in the hearse leasing business.

So, just before Christmas, we made the huge decision to add to our fleet. I've been waiting to tell you about it because I can't seem to get a good day to take pictures of my Christmas present to myself. So you'll have to make due with these from a wet, snowy day.

You may have noticed that our hearse in the side-bar is navy blue. Our largest client requested the blue hearse to set his funeral home apart from others in town. Since I like the look of the blue, I've always had a blue hearse.

Our latest addition is black and has been named....
"The Black Pearl". Since sales were already increasing with other funeral homes, the addition of a black coach enables us to service more traditional businesses. Already we have picked up an account that we had years ago that left us over the issue of color. And we are looking forward to adding more funeral homes to our roster.

Of course with the addition of another vehicle, comes the addition of another employee. My Eddy works a full time job already and can not help every day. The work is unsteady with no schedule. So the search has been hard, but I think I may have found a keeper. It turns out that someone that worked for me in my Pizza store is enjoying the funeral business as much as I do.

This brings our fleet to include  two hearses and a limousine. So if you find yourself in need of such a vehicle, please don't hesitate to call me because the bank wants the car payments every month, you know.

But, here on the Brighter Side, we like to think positive. I know deep in my heart that we are running a top quality business representing top quality funeral homes around the area. It is my pleasure every day to work with some of the industries finest professionals and to call them friends. I've said it before, Death is never easy. We are here to help those left behind start a new life. A life that does not include someone that they have loved. We always want the last memories of that person to be good memories.

And that brings me to my thought of the day. The contemplation from the beginning of this post. As I stood for hours in the snow and freezing temperatures, I thought............. " I can make myself miserable, or I can make myself happy. The amount of work I put into either is the same."
I chose each day to think thoughts, make choices and take actions that make me feel good. By doing so, I hope to help others feel good.


And finally, I've always saved facebook for close friends and family. But I've now decided to open it up to anyone that's more curious about the mind behind the Brighter Side. So feel free to look up Stewart Adams. I'd love to know more about those that follow me as well.

Solo Cup

Big things are happening here on the brighter side. And with those big things, I am in need of help. So, I've been teaching new people to do what I already do best. Organize a nice straight line of cars to process out to the cemetery.

It was my newest employee's first day on the job. Since he's been a friend for some years, he'd had the pleasure of attending my brother-in-laws funeral recently. So he knew that sometimes funerals are more of a life celebration than a sad affair. But since I had no contact with the family that we were serving this day previous to the funeral, I had no idea what we were in for on this cool winter morning.

We arrived on scene and I proceeded to instruct him on the prep work that goes into making sure that we get everything right. We set up cones and signs in the parking lot to help direct the traffic and went inside to see what kind of car list we were working with this day. That's when I saw that the list was nothing more than a dozen names scribbled on a piece of paper so tiny that you could barely read them. There was little more description of the vehicles involved than "blue car" or "bike". Yes, it's winter. Yes, I just said bike. The deceased was a biker. These are always fun funerals.

As people started to arrive, we tried to sort out if they were on the list for the first line or if we needed to put them in the 2nd, 3rd or 4th lines. More and more people showed up. We still didn't have the family that was to go in the first line that follows behind the hearse. We couldn't fill up the second line because we needed to be able to squeeze the first line in  when and if they arrived. Finally, the last car in the first row arrived but still no sign of the others. About 15 minutes before the service started, the parking lot is reaching maximum capacity and some of the first row finally arrived. Some are on motorcycles and others in cars. They wanted all the bikes behind the hearse with the cars to follow. We did our best to accommodate them. Still more cars arrived even past the start time of the service. We were out of space and still missing some of the first row. We had people parked in lots across the street and next door, flagged and ready to go, with instructions to fall in behind as we processed down the road.

We were finally able to go inside to warm up. We got inside just in time for the mans theme song to be played. As the director pressed play on the cd player, she laughed and we soon realized why. She played Red Solo Cup by Toby Kieth.  And the party began. I'll let your mind wrap around that and jump ahead to our trip to the cemetery.

It is not the law, but is customary in our small town to pull over to the side of the road to let a funeral procession pass by. Out-of-towners may not know our customs and also sometimes when approaching from the opposite direction, it is difficult to tell what is coming at you. We've had this problem before and I've written about it. This time, it was the motorcycles behind my hearse that were riding in on-coming traffic, forcing them off the road. The director signaled to them to stay in the line but they didn't seem to want to listen. At one point there was a motorcycle riding next to the hearse in the on-coming lane. Fed up with this dangerous problem, the director called the state police. We were hoping for them to pull the offenders out of line. Instead, the police followed us to the cemetery and before we carried the casket to the grave site, scolded the bikers. No one got a ticket for reckless driving. But it didn't look so cool in front of all their friends. I don't think it did much good though. Just after the police left, they lit up the marijuana.

It was a great first day on the job for my newest employee. But if he can handle a day like this, he can do anything.

Addiction

Is the Brighter Side of the Grave an addiction?
I hope so.
And I'm not just talking about this blog.

I not one to do much with the various blog awards. I don't really put much weight in most of them.

I do appreciate that someone thinks enough of my little blog to pass it on to others and especially that they follow, read and even comment back.

A while ago this one was passed along by a faithful follower, Anne from MorningAJ, and I thought it deserved some attention.

I am flattered that anyone would consider this blog addictive. But when I think of the blogs that I follow, I would have to consider them all addictive. Like everyone, my time is very valuable to me. But I always have to find the time to find out what's going on in blogland. Even if  it means that I don't have time to share myself.

I'm expected to share with you, Why I started blogging and how it has grown to be what it is today.
To do that, I must go way back in my past life, as I call it. Over the years, in my old career, I had moved many, many times. Along the way I had made many friends of co-workers and neighbors. We always say that we are going to keep in touch with people. But time and space have a way of pulling people apart. I originally started blogging on Myspace so that old friends could keep up with where I was or what I was doing in my active life.

As my career in the funeral business grew, more and more, I was asked about my experiences as a professional hearse driver. Commenters consistently inquired about crazy or interesting stories. I found that in social settings our business was often the topic of discussion. Frequently, my husband and I were told that we should write a book.

I have a fascination with life. I may work in the death business. But I help people to get back to living their own life after the loss of someone that they loved. There are so many wonderful stories out there of a life well lived. There are so many humorous things that happen in the course of life and those are the stories that are shared on a daily basis in my business. It's not about death at all. It's about life; wonderful life. It pains me to watch someone wasting their life not feeling fulfilled. My goal in life is to help the people that I meet along the way to find their purpose. To live and love while they are still on the brighter side of the grave. And so, The Brighter Side of the Grave was born.

Here, I like to tell some of the stories that I hear. To pass along what I observe others remembering about their loved ones; the things they thought were important enough to mention at their funeral. I'm learning to live a full and happy life by listening to those memorable moments in other peoples lives. And I blog to pass those wonderful things along to you. Of course I include the crazy stories of my own life as I go. I love to share with you my adventures. Be them at home in the yard or traveling the globe. I hope in some small way that I inspire others to live life without fear or regrets. To keep in mind as you go through your days, that these are the things people will say about you when you are gone. Only you can write the script for your funeral. Only you can decide what people will remember about you. Through our daily lives, we each have a chance to live on forever in the memories of those that knew us.

That is what the Brighter Side is all about. That is why I blog.


So very much can happen in a lifetime, or even in a single day. Yet, I can assure you that whatever has or will happen in yours, no matter what chasms you cross, heights you scale, or how many people you love or are loved by, when all is said and done and you take that final look over your shoulder, what will humble you the most, is that you got to be you. That's pretty incredible!

Fogged

I'm not big on holidays, so instead of the typical 'be thankful' kind of post from me, I'll give you a little story of one of my days recently. I do hope that the Americans reading this are enjoying their holiday though.

Every morning for the past week, I have awoken to intense fog.

I am renaming November as
 'the foggy season'.
But let me tell you about one foggy day in particular.
On Saturday, the funeral home where I work part time is open from 9am until 2pm. Here you can see my drive into work that day. Let's keep in mind that here in Michigan, deer hunting season has just started. So you have not only the threat of unruly drivers on the road, but the hunters spook the deer to run right out in front of you. Add to that this thick fog and it can be somewhat nerve wracking to drive for any length of time.

Here I am approaching the end of the freeway. At this point, I am on a bridge and the approach ramp for the bridge to Canada is on my left. You can faintly see the post that holds the sign that hangs above the freeway that reads 'Canada Only'. I have to wonder how many people accidentally went to Canada that day.

 The temperature was just below freezing. So the fog actually froze to the backside of my heated mirrors on my car during the drive.

After putting in my time working the office during the day, I was about to close up shop and head for home when the phone rang. It was a man informing me that his father had died that morning and they wanted us to handle the funeral. I  sympathized with his loss and started to take down all the vital information. We wonder each year who will get the first deer hunting casualty. And it looks like this year, we won. The man had gotten his deer sometime in the night and was dragging it back to his car when he had a heart attack and died. His friends found him in the morning. After the coroner had released the body, it was transported to an area funeral home where it was being embalmed and prepared for the trip home. 

The funeral home was a three hour drive from where I was. So I jumped in the van and headed out. 

 It was a beautiful evening for the drive and I really didn't mind it at all. I reached the other funeral home just after sunset. After loading up the van with all his hunting gear, I swung into my brother's house and drug him out to dinner. I don't get a chance to see him much and had to drive right past the town that he lives in. So it only made sense to stop and catch up a little. Sometime during dinner, my brother told me there was a news report of someone having a heart attack while hunting and he wondered if I'd heard that report.

 Then it was back in the van for the long drive back to the funeral home. The deer population in that area is greater than the human population and they seemed to be lounging on the side of the road everywhere. Maybe they feel safer around the speeding cars than in the woods with the hunters.

 After dropping the deceased off back at work, I headed home. I looked over at the gas station just off the freeway. There was a low laying cloud...aka fog, hovering just above the station and the green, blue and red lights steaked across the night sky and resembled the northern lights. I remember thinking how beautiful it was. Then, as I refocused my attention to the road ahead of me, this is what I saw.

And this is moments later. That car is still there. Somewhere. Over and over, the car in front of me would hit their brakes as they entered the next wall of fog and seconds later, would disappear altogether. This would happen every mile or so and it is only a 35 mile drive. Finding exits and keeping track of where other drivers were was quite the challenge. Even trying to ascertain where I was, was a challenge. So I put on my foghat for the slow ride and took it easy.



I was so glad to pull into my driveway at home, walk in the door and see my dog Pugsley. Even though I had been gone all day, he was so happy to see me. This fog has been like this every day for a week and it's getting old. It certainly isn't a place for someone with claustrophobia or hair like mine that frizzes with the slightest bit of humidity.

Maxine Adams

Since I like to say on this blog that it is the stories of someones life that we celebrate at the funerals, and that it is those stories that keep them alive in our hearts, I'd like to share with you briefly the story of my own mother's life.

Born to a poor country family in Northern Lower Michigan in 1933, she was raised with very few luxuries. Although being the only daughter, I'm sure she probably had it a little easier than her two brothers who were ten and eleven years older than her. Still, it was a time and place where homes had only one room and bathwater was shared by the whole family.

By the time she was ten, her brothers had gone off to war and her parents decided to move to Detroit in search of employment. But when she was only eleven, only one day before World War Two ended, her father was tragically killed in a freak factory explosion. Leaving her mother to raise her on her own in harsh times and a strange city.

At fourteen, she started caring for her mother who was injured in an automobile accident and 

by the time she graduated high school, her mother had been diagnosed with cancer. She met my father in March the following year and by June they were married. But before she could give her mother her first grandchild, her mother was gone.

It was a tough beginning to say the least. At that point, her husband (my father) decided he wanted to be a part of the newest craze in health care sweeping across America. He decided to become a Chiropractor. Together, as they started their family, they attended Palmer Chiropractic College in Iowa.

After finishing school, they opened the first chiropractic office in Leesville, Louisiana. It was not a big hit and they made the move to Houma, Louisiana to take over an existing practice. It was a new science then and patience were few. They often paid for services with a barter instead of money.

With a growing family and the promise of a steady paycheck, it was decided to move the family to Michigan where my father took a job with Ford Motor Co.. Their passion was always helping others through chiropractic care but food and clothing for a growing family was not cheap.

Total, my mother had seven children and my father made a very good living with Ford. My mother certainly did not want for much. Anything she thought we needed, we would have. And my father always made sure she always had a nice new car to drive her family around in.

She dedicated her life to raising her children. Taking time out four month every year to help a few hundred friends fill out their income tax forms. Our kitchen table became known as Max's Taxes.

Most importantly, she did not want any of her children to suffer the way she did as a child. She did her best to participate in any and all activities that we became interested in over the years. Then when she was 47 years old she started having problems with her heart. It turned out that a tumor had grown inside her heart and was blocking the valves from operating properly. She survived that, only to spend the rest of her life battling diabetes.

She wasn't perfect by any measure and had a bit of a short temper at times. my father even referred to her as Vesuvius. But she did her best with what she had to offer us. And for that, all seven of us love her and miss her very much. 

This 9th day of November 2012, I am reflecting on her life because today would have been her 79th birthday.

She may not be here to celebrate with us in the flesh, but she will always be in our hearts.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM !

Maxine Ellen Shattuck Adams

11/09/1933   ~   05/17/2011

More about my mom

Life is as the flash of the firefly in the night, the breath of the buffalo in winter time.

~ Blackfoot proverb

The Meaning of Life

When God created humans, he realized that we would have questions. As he wanted us to search for our own answers and grow our knowledge, instead of always turning to him, he decided to hide.

First he hid deep inside the earth. Then realized we'd dig and find him there.

Then he hid in outer space. And then realized it was only a matter of time before we found him there too.

So he decided to hide in plain sight. He decided to hide all around us. In the trees, the grass, the birds and the animals. And just to be safe, he hid inside each of us.

To find the answers that we are looking for, we must look inside. It is only when we ask ourselves these tough questions, that we will get the answers. The answers we've been looking for. Perhaps even, the meaning of life itself.

Till Death Do Us Part

‘Til death do us part

Published 11:25am Wednesday, June 6, 2012

My sister serves as a chaplain at a hospital in Alabama and knows some of the people interviewed in this article. She sent it to me and I am passing it on to my friends here because it really speaks about how and why we do, what we do....

By CHRISTINE BOATWRIGHT / Staff Writer

When a loved one passes away, funeral home directors step up and can become a stabilizing force for grief-stricken families.

For many Shelby County morticians, they see their profession as a ministry to the community.

Cody Caldwell has been a funeral director for 11 years at Rockco Funeral Home in Montevallo.

“You see a lot of different aspects with how the family deals with loss of a loved one,” Caldwell said. “What we’re here for is to serve the family. We help start the grieving process for the family.”

GETTING STARTED

To become a funeral director, the profession requires a two-year associate degree in funeral service education.

Funeral directors come into the profession for different reasons.

Caldwell went to school with grandchildren of Rockco’s former owner, Billy G. Rockco, and so became familiar with the profession.

Bob Beavers, general manager at Southern Heritage Funeral Home in Pelham, worked as a coal miner before joining the funeral home vocation.

“It’s what I decided I wanted to do,” Beavers said. “It’s a job where you actually help people.”

Lauriann Loveless, a funeral director at Charter Funeral Homes in Calera, worked in a cemetery with her parents, and decided to go to school to become a director.

“I think God puts you where you need to be,” Loveless said.

Loveless was one of the first female funeral directors in the county.

Ed Burdett, a funeral home director with Charter for four years, began his career in 1966. He was one of Shelby County’s first emergency medical technicians, and served as coroner for four years.

Burdett’s coworker, Larry Gilliland, started his funeral home career at Charter in 1964.

“I had never been in a funeral home before I started working here,” he said. “I try to help my fellow man.”

Gilliland said his family was raised in the business.

“Mine wasn’t,” Loveless said. “My first dead body was my first autopsy (during a college class). They were laying bets if I’d pass out on my first day of clinical.”

Caldwell said he and the funeral home staff take time together to talk about loss to “cope with sadness,” he said.

“I look at it as a mission,” he said. “To cope with it, you have to go through the good memories the families give you. If you sit and dwell on it, it’d bring us all down.”

Gilliland, Loveless and Burdett said even after years in the profession, they still need time to cope with certain funerals.

“Little children get to all funeral directors,” Gilliland said.

“It breaks my heart every time,” Loveless said. “But with babies and children – whew!

“You’re there to add structure. If you break down, you can’t provide structure,” she added. “With babies, I won’t say I don’t break down after they leave.”

Burdett said sincerity is important.

“As long as you don’t let emotions handle you, as long as you’re sincere, you help someone because they need help and are sincere about it,” he said.

TRENDS OF THE BUSINESS

“People are going to more and more cremations. A lot of local cemeteries are full,” Gilliland said. “Being cremated, the family can do anything with the remains.”

Caldwell said cremation leads to more options, and can be thousands of dollars cheaper than a traditional funeral.

“It’s more financial with cremation,” he said. “You can have the funeral when you want to. You can have the memorial service whenever.”

Gilliland said one of the biggest changes he has seen in the funeral business is the one-day service, where a visitation, service and interment occur on the same day. Caldwell said the same.

“It used to be, you could count on a nice visitation and the service the next day,” Caldwell said. “Now, you see it more on the same day. It’s the expense and you don’t want to prolong it.”

Southern Heritage offers a celebration of life room, in which the family can tailor a memorial service to the loved one.

“Instead of the sad funeral, they have their friends in there and are telling stories about the loved one they’ve lost,” Beavers said. “It’s a big help to people. We do themed events for them, if they’re an Alabama fan or Auburn, ice skating, pretty much everything.”

Another trend in the funeral home profession involves the weather. Both Charter and Rockco funeral directors agreed a rise in funerals follows the weather changing.

“Some (people) hang on until a symbol, like a birth date or a wedding date,” Caldwell said.

BEHIND THE SCENES

Once a person passes away and the family contacts the funeral home, the funeral home director takes the body into a room full of chemicals, tools and hair supplies such as hairspray and a curling iron.

“Behind the scenes is like you’re stepping back in time,” Caldwell said. “All the aesthetics are for the public.

“We keep everything sanitized and clean as we can keep it for our own health,” he added. “It’s like an operating room.”

Funeral directors prepare the body for the funeral, which includes setting the features and adding hair and makeup in some cases.

“We fix their features, the mouth and eyes, bathe them down and make the incision in the right carotid artery (collarbone area),” Gilliland said.

“Back when I started, gloves were non-existent, but with diseases, now we wear gloves and protective gear,” he added.

Caldwell said the chemicals change every three years.

“It’s a more natural appearance,” he said of the current chemicals. “You won’t have to use as much cosmetics. They look like they’ve fallen asleep.”

Gilliland said they measure the body from elbow to elbow to determine the casket size, and 23 inches across is the standard size.

Charter offers the only on-site crematorium in Shelby County.

According to Burdett, the crematorium can reach temperatures of 1,600 degrees or hotter and burns for approximately three hours.

While embalming is an “art within itself,” Caldwell said, the profession’s impact involves community involvement.

“Being in a community and involved with people, you relate back to those actions throughout life, and it makes you a better person,” Caldwell said. “It helps me with closure. I know that person and am glad they chose us because I can facilitate what the family wants and needs.”

Loveless said it’s a tough business, as it runs “Monday to Monday.”

“Wherever we’re needed, we’re there,” Gilliland said, “even if they live here and want to be buried 100 miles away.”

Caldwell said he sees people joining the funeral home business for financial reward.

“A lot of people are getting into too much business and losing the personal touch,” Caldwell said.

“It’s about servitude,” he added. “You have to have that mentality. We’re here to serve, not to dictate. We’re caring for families and making a difference.”