I grew up going to funerals.
That’s just the way it rolled in the Mennonite world. My earliest memories are of standing among the headstones as another black casket went into the ground.
By the time I was twelve, I’d probably been to more funerals than weddings…and I’d been to lots of weddings. It was generally accepted that the whole church was invited to either event.
The way I grew up, if you scratched a Mennonite… you’d find a funeral waiting to happen. Everyone knew that life was something to get through, the suffering required so that ultimately you could reach the big reward of your spot in that heavenly Hymn Sing.
There was nothing quite like gathering in the cool austerity of the church basement while drinking multiple cups of weak coffee, eating thick sugary squares and talking about someone who wasn’t there. Of course…that could also describe a wedding.
And, unless you were listening closely to the sharing (and if there was a definite absence of an open casket at the front of the church), it was pretty hard to distinguish between the two main events.
It wasn’t until grade eight, with my newly expanded circle of non-church friends, that I discovered not everyone had photo albums stuffed with dead relatives. How mortifying to discover that my new friends found it odd to have close-ups of dead people among the family vacation photos.
But even knowing that some found it strange, I found it even more amazing that some people had never been to a funeral at all.
Last Saturday I was on a panel at the BC Chapter of the Travel Media Association of Canada professional development day. I was part of a group of writers and PR people who were fielding questions on the do’s and don’t’s of operating with integrity on either side of that fence.
Somehow the topic of death came up…I swear I didn’t introduce it.
But it circled around the question of what to do if there’s a death on the cruise ship, train, kayak trip or whatever trip you’re currently being hosted for, and that you’re supposed to be writing about. Judging by most of the responses, it seemed the majority felt that death would be a subject best left out of the travel story.
In defense of my response, I just want to add that I can’t recall a day of my childhood where my mother wasn’t listening to CFVR’s funeral report, how else to explain my quick defense of death as a fine and worthy topic.
Granted, it’s not usually the first thing you see on an ad to Disneyland, but think about it. Could there be a much more convincing reason to go on a trip? “You’re going to die so come see Mickey before you do!”
Hmm…maybe not.
I have had two stories published that included death as a fairly central theme. The first one published in WestWorld magazine and themed around a dead body I saw while floating down India’s Ganges River.
The more recent story was prompted when someone died while Kevin and I were on a bicycle trip in the Czech Republic. I wrote about that in an Adventure Cyclist story that intertwined some of the dark layers of Czech history with the tragedy of the man who lost his life while cycling.
Death is not an easy topic to tackle. And I understand it’s not a particularly catchy lead to most travel stories.
But if I’m not exactly fond of the subject, I am certainly familiar with it. Death, after all, is a large part of the reason Kevin & I retired. We knew there was no guarantees on this ride.
Besides. I grew up going to funerals.
Well, there has been so many people our age who have died so young.
I, like you, have made it my policy to love living every day, and no regrets!
You truly don’t know how much time you have, and best to make the most of it.
My mom lived til she was 91, playing bridge, having a few boyfriends, but
keeping her independance. She is my inspiration because she was an
eternal optimist, and was lovely to be around. That optimism is quite infectious!!
Love your articles Colleen, they truly make us think about life!! and death!!
Laurie, your mom sounds like the model for us all. My goal is to go out with my boots on or some other cowgirl equivalent 🙂
I plan on doing everything toward that end, by being as engaged and by practising good healthy living (as much as possible – surely martinis are good for me?)
I do not want to drift away, warehoused somewhere, but I recognize too, that it’s not entirely up to me as to how this all plays out!
Which brings us back, full circle to your policy (that should be stamped on every body at birth), “…to love living every day, and no regrets!”
I like your montage, also the discussion… (As you may remember, I have a few photos like that in my albums as well!) I understand the dis-ease writing about death connected to travel. Travel is this category in our minds where death is not supposed to happen. Perhaps some of us read travel literature to enter dreams, even illusions. But I like your approach — not sealing it away.
You’re so right Dora. That’s got to be a huge part of this. Travel, like postcards, is this dreamy romantic place where the sun always shines, the beaches are white and the drinks always cold.
The only problem for me, writing that kind of ‘prisitine wilderness’ stuff, makes me want to hang myself – and reading much of those travelmercial-style pieces does the same.
Maybe that’s why I love India so much. It’s not pretending to be anything but the entire range of humanity – all coming at you at once!
Great blog, love all the responses. Fascinating.
Hey Karen, yes ma’am, I am loving the responses. Seems we need to talk about this a little more 🙂
Death…nice place to visit…would not want to live there!
I don’t know Tony. Maybe death is not just a nice place to visit…it might not be such a bad place to ‘live’ 🙂
Collen,
You would like the story I read today in Helen Simpson’s new book of short stories “In Flight Entertainment” about a death in first class. Hope you are well – visit my facebook page for a much edited album of Jon’s san Miguel photos. Lovely – thought you might appreciate some, being a photog yourself – btw, I love these montages of artifacts and found things you front your blog posts with. So, you collect and scrounge as well as write and photograph. Well done!
cheers,
Sarah
Hey Sarah, Nice to ‘see’ you here. I’ll look forward to checking out Jon’s San Miguel pictures….and yes, I’m a big lover of collage.
I am probably a crow-in-disguise, in that I love to collect and assemble and cobble bits and shiny pieces together into a new assemblage…of what? I’m not so sure, but somehow it all speaks to me.
My mother’s father died aboard an Air Canada flight returning from Hawaii on his ‘last’ holiday; he had Lobster Thermidor for dinner, a drink, fell asleep and never woke up. We always thought that was a brilliant way to go. Interestingly, amazingly, the woman who has become my friend and bookkeeper worked for Air Canada at that time and was part of the crisis management team for dealing with the airspace issues, landing and plane disembarking, and how it was handled with the passengers and my grandmother; she said it was so memorable she could recall it easily now, some 25 years later! A lot of problem-solving behind the scenes.
She was shocked when I told her the rest of the story… that the airline called my grama’s house, where all 3 of my uncles were staying, and told my Uncle Norm that their mother had died! They flew into shock, panic, tears, fear (Grandad had end stage emphysema and was self-centred in the extreme)… Norm drove to the airport, barely holding it together, and there was Lillian, reasonably and shockingly cool and collected. I don’t know how they all didn’t vaporize from stress on the spot. Decades later it’s a great family story.
Laurie, I think it would be wonderful if Air Canada could compile an anthology of just these kind of stories. Amazing how it brings so many diverse people togeter….
And you know? If I was allowed to pick my last meal, Lobster Thermidor sounds like a pretty darned fine choice to me.
I think if I am ever to get to Peru and explore the high Andes I would feel it necessary to mention that one should not stay in the high altitudes too long, and cite the incident that happened to a good friend a year ago who was on the trip of her lifetime, visiting all the sites in Peru and on her last posting was in Bolivia, Lake Titicaca before heading by bus down to Santiago Chile. Unfortunately she died of a stroke on the bus before she reached her destination. It was generally believed that she had stayed in the high altitudes far too long!
Oh Ruth. That’s awful. I guess all you can do is acclimatize as slowly as possible and then probably the same is true in the reverse when you’re coming back down. That’s definitely on my list of things to do, so make a note of this warning. Thanks.
I totally understand.
Thanks Carol…I figured you would 🙂