In an effort to finish off books that have been sitting on my shelf half-read for far too long, I decided to dig into "The Undertaking : Life Studies from the Dismal Trade" by Thomas Lynch. I finally reached the end of the book this morning before heading off to work. It was a good read on a tough topic and I came away with more respect for the service provided by undertakers and the mortuary service in general.
Lynch is also a poet by trade and it shows in the fluid nature of his writing. He can quickly weave a tale of sorrow and effortlessly lead it into an interesting observation while avoiding the sentimental sappiness that can so often occur with the topic of mortality. He has an engaging ability to illuminate the weight of the responsibility and dignity that is required in helping the living deal with the dead. More than a decade ago I had read the famous, or infamous, book by Jessica Mitford "The American Way of Death" which was a classic expose of the funeral business, which didn't provide for much sympathy towards undertakers. My own experience wasn't exactly a shining example of business ethics.
When my mother died I had to deal with the local funeral home and really the only choice available. I was making the final arrangements with my grandmother along for the ride, which was an obviously emotional time. I listened to the salesman pitch me on an expensive coffin, service and funeral add-on's. After he had run his pitch, which didn't bother me initially since I know that they are operating a business, I requested the most inexpensive box for a no-frills cremation. The salesman started his pitch again but began to add terms like "your dear mother", "wanting the best for your mother" and "I'm sure you loved her very much". He was also upselling me on an expensive coffin for a cremation. To be clear - he wanted me to spend a lot of money on a box that was going to be burned to ash. This was when I started to get annoyed. First, he didn't know anything about my relationship. Second, he can ply his emotional tagging on somebody else. Third, fuck him.
I interrupted him after his fifth mother reference, re-stated my request and emphasized my statements with more colorful language choices. Which is a nice way of saying "I just want a fucking box that that will allow me cremate her damn body". I felt bad for my lack of tact in front of my grandmother (she is a very proper and polite woman), but she was a complete trooper and just looked at the salesman expectantly for a response to my "request". It took another 10 minutes of bullshit discussion (and one more attempt at an upsell) before I got what I needed. In the end, it didn't leave me with anything but a feeling of disgust, much on par in dealing with a slimy used-car salesman.
Those were my experiences and I bought the book because it was a National Book Award finalist and the sales blurb on the back was compelling. I never would have expected that this would successfully provide a compassionate face on this business. In the many chapters of the book Lynch provides insightful snippets of the service provided and a genuine degree of empathy for his work. More importantly, Lynch creates a philosophical, yet simple, reminder that his task is to support the living, because the dead no longer care.
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