Dr. Frank Minyard:
I am writing in response to the CNN article that was electronically published on
As President of the Institute on Religious Deathcare and Spiritual Healing, Inc., I represent our members and affiliated congregations. I believe your decision to withhold the identified and unidentified victims from interment is a great disrespect to those lives that were tragically lost. I also believe it is similarly unfair to those families that continue to mourn their loved ones and to those who can only wonder if their family member lies in a warehouse, swaddled in a plastic covered coffin. Speaking from the perspective of a hospice chaplain, I assure you that the current treatment of those 100 individuals will further complicate their family’s grieving.
In a city that is continuously striving to overcome many socio-economic injustices, I believe that refusing to inter those whose families cannot afford to bury them is an abysmal malpractice. Furthermore, your interview with CNN gives the impression that you are refusing to release or find sufficient disposal of the decedents in order to create a memorial with the 100 bodies. In your interview you stated: “You can’t spread these victims all over. This is a memorial to a hurricane.” I highly support your pursuit of a memorial; however, withholding the dead from their overdue burial for the sake of creating a memorial is simply unethical. Though I believe a memorial is needed to remember the tragedy and many lives lost, it is not your moral decision or right to prevent the dead from their final interment, despite your legal privileges. The 100 decedents are not merely relics of Katrina, subject to agendas or a community’s intentions simply because of their tragic ending. Continuing to hold these persons will prevent any future glorification a memorial will offer since the mortuary practices that preceded its erection were so terribly grim.
It would be noble and merciful of you to spend a small portion of the $250K you have raised thus far in order to immediately inter the dead. Arranging a simple, inter-faith memorial service to remember the dead can be easily accomplished, permitting families to come together and fulfill their duty to their loved ones, furthering their healing process.
Joseph M. Primo, MDiv
President
This morning on the CBS program Sunday Morning, Bill Geist did a story on launching cremains into outer space. Before discussing some of the people who were sent to space this past week, Bill gave a synopsis of some other mortuary options, most of which center around mechanically compressing cremains and then manufacturing objects out of the resulting material. He ran through the coral reef option, the copper bracelet (which, surprisingly, doesn’t have the same ionized “force” of the info-commercial fad, Q-ray, and I’m sure has upset a lot of cremains-wearing folks out there), the silver chalice, and the diamond ring. I was hoping Bill would mention green and natural burials, but he skipped those. Given all the options, you really have to wonder if divorce courts are ready to handle the feuding couple that shows up for their court date, with a diamond in hand, fighting over grandma. It’s one thing to lose a family heirloom to the ex, but to lose grandma herself, in the form of a compressed-ash gem, is a whole other story.
Pay for Care Initiative
Currently: The average funeral, as of 2004, costs $6,500 not including cemetery costs. The majority of this cost is for products purchased, not services offered.
Alternatively: IRDSH proposes that Funeral Directors earn their livelihood from care requested by families rather than products consumed. In other words, a Funeral Director may receive $2,500 from an $8,000 funeral. If a family forgoes excessive consumption of products, congregations and both community and governmental organizations can assist low-income families with cost since the accrued fees are drastically less. This change in mortuary practices will sustain local Funeral Directors, compensating those who are asked to perform familial duties.
Objective
As a result of decreasing the cost of funerals by minimizing the consumption of products, families, congregations and community groups are empowered to support low-income families, while also perpetuating the ability to care for the dead at home, as able. The support systems that are put into place via the decrease in cost enables foundations, organizations, and congregations et al to accumulate funds for those who cannot afford the service of a hired caretaker, i.e. Funeral Director. This not only results in a decrease in costs, but also a decrease in the consumption of precious woods, concrete, metals, and other materials, resulting in more environmentally sound practices; it also supports the intimate and spiritual benefits of familial participation and communal support, while saving tax dollars.
One of my hospice colleagues invited me to attend a Taize service at her church last evening. If you’re not familiar with Taize it is an ecumenical community in
When I heard Stay with me last night, I pictured shomrim sitting around a decedent praying, watching, singing and caring for the dead. I believe these practices are the ideal for congregations to aspire towards and enact within their communities.
Deathcare rituals vary in each society and religious community. Dr. Rebecca Tortello wrote an interesting article yesterday titled: A Time to Die – Death rituals. Her article on Jamaican and slave death rituals can be viewed at:
http://www.jamaica-gleaner.com/gleaner/20070402/lead/lead5.html
The article identifies several things that I have been speaking about within the Institute. Dr. Tortello states that “some [Jamaican] death traditions remain strong,” despite the fact much of the ritual has been replaced by Western conventions. Often times, the decedent is still “taken from the house feet first;” the family stops clocks, covers mirrors, wears black, white or purple, and rearranges the furniture so that the ghost (duppy) of the dead doesn’t recognize their former home and can’t stick around for too long.
In addition to these old rituals and beliefs, the dead are now embalmed so that family can return to the island. Tortello also points out that the dead are embalmed for reasons other than temporary preservation: “[The funerals] can range from small to extremely large as they are also used to showcase the financial and social status of the deceased and his/her family.” Personally, I can’t help but wonder what the rich, disembody dubby must think when he returns to his home only to find that his home and body have received an exotic make-over (I’m assuming the house is exotic too since Jamaica is a Caribbean Island, after all, and I like to think that everything warm and Caribbean is delightfully—except the whole embalming thing—exotic).
The inherently exotic nature of
I recently asked someone from
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Mysticism within Deathcare: Fourth entry
With two loves I have loved You
With a love that is selfish
And a love that is worthy of You:
In the love that is selfish
I busy myself with You
And others exclude.
In the love that is worthy of You
You raise the veil
That I may see.
Yet not to me is the praise in this or that,
But, in that and this, is the praise to You.
I think it is fair to say that she would agree with Dorothy Soelle's belief that "what happens in love, when people give themselves wholly and without reserve to another human being, deserves to be called mystical."
The father of one of my friends recently died. When we spoke about his funeral arrangements, she stated that she was not concerned with cost because it was the least she could do to honor him. We all find various ways to honor those we love and those who have died. I believe that as families and communities, we best honor and praise our beloved in the this and that. In deathcare, the love we give to those we care for is a worthy love, and from that love a veil of grief is lifted, moving us closer to healing, ourselves, to God and to each other. When we are active participants in the deathcare of our beloved and neighbors we praise the deceased and find ourselves full of thanksgiving.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Mysticism within Deathcare: Third EntryThe story of Seuse is not that different from our deathcare story. In our modernized grief, burdened by our busyness and many responsibilities, we do not seem to have time to care for our dead because we are often frantic, angered or numb. Those emotions are legitimate and should be affirmed. So yes, there are certainly times when we need assistance, and our church communities are needed to support us in our grief and with our care for the dead. It is in those times when we are alone with our grief, deeply focused on our loss and, perhaps, rattling off furious curses at God that we overlook a simple revelation of God within our deceased. He or she will not literally knock on our door, but within their lifeless body one might hear the hollow sound of wind rustling the shattered chrysalis, whose embryo has fluttered away. Instead of such revelations, like the Mystic Seuse experienced, we realize all too late and go searching for our beloved in cemeteries, desperate to comprehend their death, never having experienced their deadness other than viewing him/her amid the commotion of a brief visitation.
Despite what might appear to be difficulties, we obtain "spiritual freedom when we become aware of our limits through leaving them behind." As individuals and congregations we can bring healing to the grief-stricken, while also helping the bereaved, as Rumi said, to "‘find joy in the heart when the time of sorrow comes.'"
Friday, March 9, 2007
Mysticism within Deathcare: Second EntryAs I said in my excerpt on Thomas Merton, and what his words call us to become, the experience of death is integral to both our learning and our healing. Encountering death within our homes and congregations is not some morbid, spiritual flagellation that is supposed to whip us into more pious individuals. Rather, it creates an awareness of our mortality, and it is also an encounter with someone else's experience of death. However, as we can see in deathcare, "the repulsion of experience, as well as the fear of engaging it, represents a kind of spiritual suicide that at the turn of this century continues to cause church membership to decline." (Soelle, The Silent Cry, 18) This is not to say that I or mystic, Dorothy Soelle, believe communal deathcare will increase church membership. Soelle was not referring to deathcare, specifically, in the above quote. Deathcare as an experience with death, however, should be viewed as spiritual suicide, given its current practices. No, I don't believe individuals should not expect divine retribution because of these rituals, but we need to acknowledge that we become spiritually deprived when we ignore our responsibility to our loved ones. The means in which we choose to spiritually satiate ourselves can be quite diverse, especially given our diversity as individuals and religious communities. However, our experience with deathcare further enhances that diversity in our expressions of grief, our healing processes, and also in our spiritual growth as we make meaning of our lives and those we love.
Similarly, experience gives us a language to attempt an understanding of the incomprehensible. Cognitio Dei Experimentalis (our experience of God outside of books or doctrines) is not something we can easily articulate with language. Therefore, if we cannot or do not observe something we also cannot attempt to communicate it. Since, we consider caring for the dead a spiritual act that has something to say about our living, dying and the divine, we cannot otherwise have that spiritual encounter with our neighbor, self or the divine without the experience itself.
The Sufi mystic, Rumi, said that "'words are merely dust on the mirror we call experience, a kind of dust that the broom of the tongue creates.'" In other words, how are we to understand the death of ourselves and our loved ones if we do not experience death, if we simply continue to arouse dust clouds without the revelation of our inevitable end? How will we come to understand the divine and our living experience if the only means in which we understand our fate does not represent the objective reality that is at the core of our finitude? How will we understand our ultimate experience if we continue to pass our deceased onto someone else, who beautifies death for our own denial and separation from reality?
Monday, March 5, 2007
Mysticism within Deathcare: First EntryOver the next few blog entries I will be talking about mysticism. There will be talk about some people you may or may not recognize. Many of my references will be from the German mystic, Dorothee Soelle, whose work inspired me when I was studying with the Catholic ethicist, Margaret Farley. Deathcare is a spiritual act, which is full of mysticism and awe. One might think of deathcare as a spiritual tool for the self or congregation, but it also should be thought of as a spiritual duty since ethical deathcare does not only strive to preserve the dignity of the dead, but also protect the vulnerability of the bereaved. Deathcare is complicated and that is why it is mysterious and, thus, also a mystical experience.
Thomas Merton (1915-68) was a mystic and priest who fought against war and and worked in favor of interfaith dialogue between Christianity and Eastern religions. During his ministry he said many things that still resonate today. Merton asked many pertinent questions of the human experience. He challenged complacency within human experience: "if you want to know me, don't ask where I live, what I like to eat, how I part my hair; rather, ask me what I live for, in every detail, and ask me what in my view prevents me from living fully for the thing I really want to live for." (Soelle, The Silent Cry, 14) Merton's response to an inquisitor is a self-reflective question that we need to ask ourselves daily.
What is it that prevents you from living more fully? Aspiring to become better and more wholesome individuals is a life long endeavor that requires us to ask critical questions of ourselves. Of course, as religious and spiritualists, we must also consistently determine what responsibilities we have to our neighbors and selves. Service, compassion, reformation, love and gentleness are some of our responsibilities. Such spiritual necessities call us to oppose those things in our daily lives that cause us or others harm. Surely, you can see where I am going with this. However, reforming death rituals within our society is not all we are called to do. There are many other great injustices within our world, many of which leave us with a feeling of hopelessness, despair or apathy.
Reclaiming our responsibility to care for our dead is greater than simply reforming an increasingly unjust ritual. Caring for our dead, whether at home or within community settings, reminds us of our mortality and also inspires us to reexamine what it is we live for, in every detail. It challenges us to reflect upon that which prevents us from living more fully for those things and people we hold sacred. In other words, when we care for our dead and experience death as it truly is, part of our healing process becomes the transformation of our spiritual selves and our evolution into more compassionate, loving and "lively" people. What is it you live for? What prevents you from the thing you want to live for? What does your living and dying teach you about overcoming that which most prevents you from fully living?
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Grave MattersThere is a new book out! Grave Matters picks up were Mary Roach (Stiff) and Jessica Mitford (The American Way of Death) left off, offering some new twists to the evolving plot. Mark Harris nicely narrates the options we currently have to care for our dead bodies. Mark eloquently unlatches the coffin lids and retort doors, bringing his reader into the embalming room, along the seaside for scattering of ashes into the ocean (and also their molding into artificial coral reefs), through the woods and behind the homestead.
The book is not just a book. It is a tool to assist families with making decisions about deathcare. Following each chapter, whether it is about the carpenters who make caskets and kitchen tables or home funerals, Mark offers resources and contacts. Though I would like to see the latter expanded upon, it is a great start to empowering families with information they need to know. I highly recommend it to those who care about death, the environment, loved ones, their rights and their options. Over the next couple of weeks, I'll be sharing some quotes from his book with you. You can learn more about Mark Harris' contribution to the world of deathcare at www.gravematters.us
By the time you finish reading the book, which can be accomplished in two evenings, you'll conclude that these are, indeed, grave matters.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Many ThanksToday is my mother's birthday. On the way to pick-up groceries to make my mother dinner, my father told me that my grandfather's headstone had arrived, prompting us to go visit his grave. I wish I could say the visit was intentional, some sort of thankful act in appreciation for playing a vital role in my mother's birth and thus my coming into existence. Though, we did not go to the cemetery to remember him on the celebration of my mother's birth, I hope to make this an intentional gesture in the future, but it's complicated.
This cemetery is owned by my parent's Roman Catholic parish; they too have plots in the cemetery, but will not be buried there. When I first approached the spot where my grandfather is interred I didn't see the headstone and thought my father was wrong about its arrival. Then, finally, we stumbled upon it. I know where my grandfather is in this cemetery, it's just that, with a headstone, he blended into the crowd and I could not identify him by looking for his surrounding neighbors.
It took three years for my grandmother to save up enough money to purchase a headstone. Still living in Maine, where she and my grandfather resided for the past two decades, she is both caring for and supporting herself. Standing in front of the mauve stone, etched with those names of family members who have yet to arrive in their assigned spots, reminded me of the funeral we had there almost four years ago. On that afternoon I had held a small, exhumed concrete box that contained my infant aunt, born premature before technology could help develop her fragile lungs, and snuck a six pack of beer into the grave with my aunt and grandfather. Now a large marble slab lies a foot above where his neck is beneath the earth, positioned as if he was peaking over the other side of the stone.
Though I came to check out the headstone that my grandmother had been saving-up for these past three years, I found myself mapping out the hole that contained him. Using my archaeological eyes, well-developed from my digs abroad, I could decipher different species of grass, outlining where the grave-diggers reseeded my grandfather's hole. Tracing the blades with my eyes, I used my imagination to look into the soil and visualize what was confined in the concrete vault. The knowledge I've gained from dedicating countless hours to researching deathcare provided me with vivid images of mold, slosh, and his varnished, cherry casket.
I envisioned the lengthy letter I placed under his hands, the scroll of paper at his feet that identified him and his family, placed by the funeral director incase a flood came and sent him afloat or incase some archaeologist or city-planner comes along and goes digging. I caught myself with these thoughts and called myself twisted. But then I realized that no one ever came along and asked whether I rather imagine my grandfather sprouting up out of his hole as grass, dandelions, weeds, flowers or confined in concrete. Instead, I know the facts about the traditional funerals many in my family have undergone. Rather than thinking about their presence among me, when I visit the graves of those I have loved, I think about the injustices their bodies got mangled-up in and wonder when others will begin to wish that death wasn't made so ugly by the materialism and vanity that we impose on it.
The good news is that I'm a thrifty saver like my grandmother--though, I don't intend to buy a slab of marble to mark my place of interment. I do, however, think that those who choose or are deceived into "traditional" burials might want to consider saving up to purchase something lavish, something bold. We need emblems that stand out, call-out to onlookers--chunks of solid earth that are practically immobile and can clearly mark each spot, each place that has been violated by financial exploitations and toxins. For many years my grandfather's body was an energy-making, loving, musical, and talented juxtaposition of DNA, water, and intricate functions. Today, that same body is chemical waste and I can't think of his many parts that excelled in music, carpentry, fishing or countless other things in any other light when I stand at his grave. I am very saddened by the state of his body and the state of our deathcare.
Monday, January 1, 2007
Presidential Funeral for Gerald FordAll you hearse-chasers, Harold and Maude aspirants, grave rubbers, and grave diggers, are probably very excited to tune into the presidential funeral for Gerald Ford tomorrow. I, of course, intend to watch. They say it will be elaborate, overlooking nothing and even covering bells with leather so that their cheeriness doesn't escape into the streets, making-way for mournful tolls. I'm not going to go into a tirade on the president's inauguration with chemicals and an elaborate casket, etc. Rather, I wish to ask you to think about a few questions when watching the funeral and determine for yourself it is a "good" (or as the industry would say: "dignified") funeral.
*Does the family appear to be comforted by the ritual or overwhelmed by its many intricacies?
*Is the funeral an intimate experience for people to remember the life of the decedent, encounter God or a spiritual presence, and self-reflect within the ritual?
*Does the ritual have something to say about the decedent, the bereaved, and about our lives? What emotions do you feel when participating in the funeral (you are a participant, even if from afar)? Do these emotions inspire you to live more wholesomely or create within you a desire to learn from the life the decedent lived?
*Does the ritual imitate the simplicity and fragility of our lives or is it bold and too distant for us to relate to?
*Do you or the bereaved appear to be laying a foundation for healing and the future?
*What is the meaning of the ritual, why was it carried-out as it was, what would you change, and what could not be changed?
I vividly remember President Nixon and President Reagan's funeral so I can predict the answers to some of these questions. However, it is my understanding that all Presidential funerals have their own uniqueness. I'm curious what President Ford's ritual will have to say about us as a nation and about his family's healing process. I'd like to hear your thoughts. Feel free to e-mail, and take a look at the ethical framework proposed by the institute. Think about how the President's funeral fits into that framework and ask yourself if there are exceptions to the rules. If there are, one might look to a Presidential funeral to identify them.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Buying the Right Box this Holiday SeasonAs I schlepped through my shopping outing, sick with some type of obnoxious cold, I was reminded of a basic emotion: the feeling that there are things we need to "do." I always have such a hard time finding something to buy my dad for Christmas. My mom and sister were easy, they almost always are. But shopping for my dad drives me to all sorts of mad frenzies. A friend was rattling off gift ideas. I mostly responded with "he's already got that." In actuality, I was feeling compelled to buy something nice, as if I was defending my dad by insisting that he deserved something better than another coat or gift certificate-that he needed something special, as if the only way I could best express my love was with something real classy.
Talk to anyone shopping for a casket and you'll hear something similar to my feelings about buying dad the right gift. The bereaved want to express their love with something pretty, perhaps in Mahogany. They feel the need to show their love by spending lots of money because the casket and funeral are really the last gifts that can be purchased for the dead. Being the good consumers we are, we often show love through materialism, and since we do not "do" loving acts in mortuary ritual, such as compassionately caring for our own dead, we compensate through lavish purchases. Trust me, the bereaved want their dad to look good in his box and for the flowers to smell fresh, the food to taste catered, and for the ordeal to look professional, like there wasn't a CFO doing any skimping.
The problem is in how we see ourselves and our responsibility to our loved ones. In my case, my responsibility to my dad is to be a loving son, first. And if I want to share a symbolic token of that love it is not best accomplished through buying him a flat screen tv. Rather, I purchased him a heavy-duty shirt that will keep him warm when he does yard work and helps fix my car. Sentimental is a lot sweeter than extravagant; one says love while the other is simply a display of buying power. I'll be buying my dad some other symbol of love, in addition to the shirt, something small and meaningful rather than expensive and unthoughtful. Yes, there is a lot to be said about intention, but there is even more to be said about our willingness to challenge the status quo and be the best, most loving people we can be. In deathcare, such willingness requires authenticity not buying power.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Precarious Relationship: Church and MorticianAs some of you already know, I'm also working at a retreat center. It's a fascinating place with all sorts of interesting visitors. I have had many great opportunities to visit with folks who are on retreat. There are some, however, that make dinner time a task rather than a pleasure, like the couple who lectured everyone about how Harry Potter is taking vocations away from the priesthood. There are the zealots and there are the humble; luckily, I love juxtapositions. Many clergy and bishops retreat here on the island, which, of course, is a great opportunity for me to talk about my "work," but only when I'm asked.
I had an interesting conversation with a priest from Bristol, RI, last week. He affirmed something I, and the opponents of the funeral industry, already knew. He said he agreed with me on ideological terms and suggested that most clergy do. Interestingly, and what few people seem to realize, he also went on to say my ideas may not work because every priest and minister works closely with funeral directors, and the funeral homes are always sure to network and cut a donation to pay for the weekly bulletin or some other expense in the parish. These relationships are all very interconnected and too inbred.
There are many sermons that can be given about social justice and the presence of financial and environmental exploitation within mortuary practices. Clergy can all agree that funeral practices need to be reformed, immediately. However, unless our spiritual caretakers fully advocate for their congregation's well-being and put persons before donations and politics, the system will continue to perpetuate itself without the direction of religious institution, those who are supposed to be most responsible for our spiritual self and our death. There is moral accountability in deathcare and clergy are not exempt.
Caring for the dead is a spiritual act that can't be schlepped over, making it difficult for clergy to take-on one more responsibility. That is why congregations, family and friends, as separate and joint entities, ought to care for each other and partake in the deathcare ministry. It requires congregations to hold themselves accountable to their bereaved, assisting them through the challenges of funeral preparation and the ritual. The ministry also requires advocates who promote ethical mortuary practices and also accompany the bereaved to the funeral director and or other duties that need completing.
Funeral directors aren't to be black listed because there is a place for them in deathcare. However, their practices, financial objectives, exploitations, and the replacement of ministry with marketing need radical transformation that begins in a society that has become powerful with its religions.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Theory Seeking ActionThe unfortunate aspect of this conversation is the fact that it was simply chat. We can talk about who would do what and envision how we would grieve and gather to celebrate the life of the deceased. A wife whose husband just died will most likely be turned away when she shows-up at the hospital with a minivan and sheet to take her husband home. Sure she can get the permit that is required by most states to transport. She can arrange for a van and even get the death certificate signed, if the death occurred at home. The wife can have friends unload the decedent from the van, clean, dress, and prepare him in the family room. Certainly, most people could care for their dead, but few know their rights, few feel comfortable challenging the status quo and few are able to think clearly amidst the haziness that becomes imbedded in their lives following a death. Making the bereaved solely responsible for all the duties that go into caring for the dead is impossible in many situations.
Becoming spiritual deathcare providers and changing the system requires community, friendship, patience, and creativity. As all controversial action is met with reaction, being active agents in the deathcare of family, friends, and neighbors will require a belief that deathcare truly has something to say about humanity and God. Religious communities often call this proselytizing. Similarly, changing how individuals and communities understand death will require proselytizing through education so that theory becomes a loving action.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Homeless Hostages and their Infant NeighborsPotter's Field is a 137 year old cemetery located on Hart Island, a 45 acre burial ground for 800,000 poor and unidentified decedents. Sociologists, clergy, concerned citizens and many others have much to say about the bureaucracy and practices of Potter's Field. The New York Times had a lengthy article about the burial ground on Sunday, November 12, 2006. Deconstructing the practices and policies of Potter's Field could easily be a dissertation.
The classism of Potter's Field is merely a reflection of our street practices. We keep our poor at a distance, we turn our heads from them, and we are moved to pity rather than towards inspired assistance. And when our poor die in NYC we banish them to an island. The decision made 137 years ago may have appeared necessary as space became increasingly limited. However, with that decision came the gross assumption that society would not care to visit their impoverished neighbor. Whether through a belief that the poor, mentally ill, and disenfranchised were meaningless in life or that they would quickly be forgotten in death, it has become acceptable to stack the dead upon on each other in unmarked graves and without recognition of their departure from life. The act was not motivated by a belief in the importance for communal decay or environmental conservation; rather, the practice is simply a reflection of the misfit's supposed inherent unworthiness. In a country where "Memorials" are placed beneath every tree in a park or on every town green, stuck on street corners and placed wherever the ground can bear their gaudy weight, the 800,000 people who are buried on Potter's Field are banished from site and meant to be forgotten.
Society ought to mourn the death of each person who comprises their community, especially those we've inadequately cared for and whose suffering we've ignored and trivialized, prescribing costs over responsibility. In 2005, 826 adults and 546 children were interred in Potter's Field. More than half of the dead were children whose grieving parents could not afford a funeral. The cost of a funeral has increased the suffering of parents, and grief is exacerbated because children cost thousands of dollars to bury. If caring for the dead is a spiritual act that tells us about the life the decedent lived, our lives, and God then what conclusions must we draw about ourselves-we who are far from ending homelessness, we who cast them to an island when they are dead, we who wish to forget our injustices rather than to mend them, we who are forced to banish children because they are too costly to bury? 800,000 people, who few are permitted to visit, lie beside those they saw in shelters or by a fire during arctic winters because they were unclaimed or infants, viewed as meaningless with no place within our communal body or among us in the ground. We, the public, are forbidden to witness the injustice.
Sunday, November 5, 2006
It Is Mostly About LivingWednesday, October 25, 2006
The Death TaxIt's election season and all the old issues are being thrown around, again. One of my favorites is the "death tax." The politicians are talking about the Estate Tax law, but no one is talking about the other obvious death tax. The death tax that I am best accustomed to is the price Americans and immigrants have to pay in order to properly dispose of a loved one, and there often aren't many ways around it if you're not prepared. The average cost of a funeral, according to the National Funeral Directors Association [www.nfda.org], as of July 2004, is $6,500. We're talking manual windows and locks, the stripped model for $6,500. Many are much, much higher and it's not always intentional. The NFDA listed the below fees as the average costs.
Professional Charges $1,182.31 Embalming
$400.51 Other preparations*
$150.35 Visitation/viewing
$314.42 Funeral at funeral home $356.68 Funeral Home transferring $158.66 Hearse (local)
$179.08 Service car/van
$87.42 Acknowledgement cards $14.47 Casket
$2,176.46 Vault $757.80 You may think that cremation is the cheap way out. However, funeral directors are now charging the same price for refrigeration as they would for embalming, no financial loss for them. You have to pay it because states require a 48 hour waiting period before a cremation can occur. You'll be hard-pressed to find a cheaper casket. Though, you can look into one from Costco these days.
The industry is selling a product and they have good marketing schemes. Can you think clearly when you're distraught? Doubtful, unless you have an unpersuasive frugal gene. The whole vault thing is required by most cemeteries, apparently they like the image of a greco-roman sarcophagi (they spray paint them gold), so there is no cutting those corners. Are they getting a kickback, perhaps? Headstones are another $2K, unless you get a footstone in lieu of the ol' header. Visitations/viewings are generally $250 an hour and the "other preparations" are simply for mysterious tasks, like ghost hunting.
Imagine an immigrant or low-income family having to come-up with $6,500 when their sole provider dies. Middle-class families alone struggle with the cost, never mind all those people already in thousands of dollars worth of debt, desperately trying to get-by with our high-cost of "living." And to then tax the dead! The funeral industry suggests pre-planning, picking your products and saving-up ahead of time. Of course, fees and merchandise may increase, but they say it's a safety deposit to ensure a handsome hole is waiting for you. I miss that old pizza commercial that asked "what do you want on your tombstone [pizza]?" These days, the industry is asking "what do you want with your tombstone?" But I ask, haven't we had enough of the materialistic death tax?
Monday, October 23, 2006
Precious Bones