Thursday, April 16, 2015

I Am Number One


 I really have never thought much about it. Yet I suppose that It would be nice to be recognized in some way as “being number one in the world!” I recently realized that I do deserve that honor. If there were a designation “Most sloppy person in the world” I think I would deserve to be at the top of the list.

Let me present my credentials: On Easter Sunday we had our usually wonderful dinner with the Paulovich’s. We had not yet finished eating when I looked down and saw the mess I’d made around my plate. There was evidence of every course. As I looked around the table I saw that every other of the 12 places was spotless. I don’t think Barbara would have had to wash the tablecloth – but Mel was there and that tablecloth needed laundering.

This morning I looked at the big stain on our bed sheet! No, you would never guess. It was chocolate ice cream. Honestly, I took only a couple little teaspoons, which I thought I had finished before reaching the bedroom. Wrong: I had left my mark.

It doesn’t matter if my dress shirt is white or colored. It is sure to have evidence of the fact that I had coffee during our church’s coffee hour and some of that coffee somehow gets embedded in my shirt.

Our living room is really quite neat and the carpet is in pretty good shape, with one exception: the area around my lounger. It is not just crumbs, peanut shells or salsa that show up but significant areas that can only be red wine spots and I don’t even fill my glass to the brim.

I need to make my amends to my mother. She tried so hard to have me be neat, to use my napkin, to lean over my table settings when I eat, to not over fill my fork or spoon. In spite of her bets efforts I continue to be worthy of the very title she wanted me to avoid: “Melvin you are a Slop Hans”.


So I have decided to not fight it, but to accept it and be grateful that there is at least one thing in the world to which I can claim to be NUMBER ONE!

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Funerals, Burials, Celebrations of Life


 Rituals to remember the deceased have been a part of my life as long as I can remember. I grew up in a Lutheran “teacherage” where our home bordered the church cemetery. In elementary school we attended all the congregation funerals in the church next door to our parochial school. I accompanied my father as he tolled the church bells as the coffin was taken from church to cemetery. I watched gravediggers prepare the gravesite, and then fill it with dirt. Often I have been in the country home parlor with the corpse as it stayed there for the night prior to being taken to the church for funeral services.

I bargained in Chinese with street-side coffin makers over the size and price of a coffin in Kowloon. I renegotiated the price coolies were charging to carry a coffin up a hill. I stood with the weeping mother as only three of us were there when the son had been killed in a bicycle-truck crash. I have spoken at tens of funerals delivering the meditation or the eulogy. I have sung a solo at a funeral in Forest Lawn in Glendale, California. I accompanied a father to the beach when he took his son’s ashes out to the waves, and presided on a boat three miles off shore as ashes were reverently lowered into the ocean. I have written instructions for my own funeral.

All of that was a part of me as a month ago I was there for my son David’s rituals after his way too early death.  A couple months ago when I asked him his wishes, he said little other than “The rituals are for you the survivors-do whatever you want. “

And so it was that on Friday night just the immediate family gathered as we together recalled his life. I presided as we all participated. It was a simple ceremony filled with memories around the topics: prayers, songs, Bible verses, rituals, memories and promises. It was good.

On Saturday we had the Celebration of Life ritual. It was in the patio of David’s home. The atmosphere was intimate as we crowded under a canopied space. The tone was intimate, reflective, sad and celebratory. In four segments of about 15 minutes each we had beautiful music (both religious and popular) performed and sung by Dave’s incredibly gifted family members, remembrances by people from many parts of the country, with varied experiences of David. A common theme: Dave’s concern for those on the edge, his commitment to people who were hurting, his unfailing faithfulness, his deep spiritual roots, his incredible generosity and his multitude of talents. When we closed with the traditional Biblical benediction with its seven-fold Amen sung beautifully by some of Dave’s family members I knew we had done it right.

But that was not the end. Emails, telephone calls, letters and cards have been coming in commenting not only upon the ceremony but upon he legacy of David to which it all pointed. Two examples: A couple spoke with me and then wrote. They recalled that after the ceremony they sat and talked for over an hour about David and his example. “We have decided to be better people,” they reported. “We want to be more generous with our time and gifts. We want to make more of a difference like David did and they sent a generous memorial gift.

A second person read about these events. She lives in Colorado. She wrote, “ I want to be more like David. I have lately not used my experience as an immigration lawyer. Tell me how I can better reach out to those who have suffered from government sanctioned torture overseas and are seeking sanctuary in America.”


So in this Easter season I rejoice in the Resurrection and in all resurrections to which end of life ritual can so vividly point.