Showing posts with label funerals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funerals. Show all posts

a question, a quote, and one more little tidbit

Wednesday, May 26, 2010




THE QUESTION: some scientists say that mad cow disease came from cows eating cows. i don't know anything about that, but my question is, do you have a natural "icky" feeling about that idea or, more specifically, the idea of chickens eating chicken? a friend suggested that it should "feel" wrong to feed chicken to chickens. we usually feed our always-voracious and totally omniverous (and very stupid) chickens whatever we have left over each day, and i was and am totally devoid of the "icky" feeling i should (maybe) have. do you feel it?

THE RANDOM QUOTE OF THE DAY: (from "southern living") "highlands [NC] is a real hot spot for salamander diversity..." (is this something you always wanted to know?)

ONE MORE TIDBIT: from (i cited this book in my last post---i'm not doing all that italicizing again) "We are sad at funerals, but there's no such thing as a funeral without a humorous moment. Once a visiting Episcopal minister took a step backward and fell smack into the grave. It certainly livened up the service.

Not many have forgotten the time one of our more intellectual citizens died, and the Presbyterian minister, who had known her forever, was out of town. The family rustled up a supply minister who'd never laid eyes on her. The night before the funeral, the family gathered to tell him all about the deceased, her fortitude in the face of a long sickness, her appreciation for art and literature. The sisters, knowing their big sister would want it, requested the minister to read some poetry, maybe a bit of Shakespeare or Keats. But the visiting divine chose "Keep a-Goin'." ('Tain't no use to sit and whine 'cause the fish ain't on your line; Bait your hook an' keep on tryin', keep a-goin'.") The bereaved sisters were doubled over with laughter. If you can't find something to laugh about, you will end up crying."

this is, no doubt, true.


"dying tastefully in the mississippi delta"

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

"After the solemnity of the church service and finality of the grave, the people of the Mississippi Delta are just dying to get to the house of the bereaved for the reception.

"Friends and family begin arriving with covered dishes, finger foods, and sweets as soon as the word is out that somebody has died....You can't bury a self-respecting Deltan without certain foods. Chief among these is tomato aspic with homemade mayonnaise---without which you practically can't get a death certificate---closely followed by Aunt Hebe's coconut cake, and Virginia's butterbeans.

"The burial, which is solemn though rarely entirely devoid of humor, most likely takes place at the old cemetery on South Main Street. The old cemetery is one of the best addresses in Greenville, Mississippi. Being buried anywhere else is a fate worse than death in Greenville. The FFGs---that's First Families of Greenville---would simply refuse to die if they weren't assured of a spot. Not that the old cemetery is strictly FFG. Not by a long shot. Lola Belle Crittenden, bless her heart, had to plant a huge hedge around her ancestral plot. Why? The neighbors. "They're so tacky," Lola Belle huffed.

"We're people with a strong sense of community, and being dead is no impediment to belonging to it. We won't forget you just because you've up and died. We may even like you better and visit you more often.

The old cemetery sees quite a bit of traffic, from the living and the dead....When Adelle Atkins, a widow, married James Gilliam, a Greenville widower, she insisted on bringing her late husband, Harry, along. She asked whether she could re-bury him on the Gilliam family plot. Adelle's new in-laws...were appalled. They were obsessed with who would go where when the day came. And besides, they hated the notion of new dead people coming in and just taking over.

"Cremation is a possible solution to the overcrowding problem [at the old cemetery]. But it's still a new and dicey proposition in the Delta. The last time somebody was cremated, his ashes were sprinkled from a crop duster. We all ran for cover. We liked him fine, but we didn't want him all over our good clothes."

from Being Dead is no Excuse, the Official Southern Ladies Guide to Hosting the Perfect Funeral, Gayden Metcalfe and Charlotte Hayes