Contemplating Death

Death, the inevitable last human state we will all eventually attain. The majority of people consciously block the thought of this condition even occurring to them even as they are driving down the freeway at 97 MPH attempting while applying their eye liner with glimpses in the rear view mirror while attempting to set the DVD to 1080i and speaking on their blue tooth to their plastic surgeon about that botox injection in the armpits which will prevent them from ever perspiring again. In cases such as this a botox injection directly into the brain would be more advantageous but then the IQ level was never bound to change. Death surrounds us on a daily basis and many of us come into contact with in be it just in print, news, viewing an automobile collision or the ox penis soup that was eaten at lunch. I actually saw death this morning at 5.49 AM in the break room getting a hot cup of coffee. Hell with his schedule he needs some kind of stimulation!

I remember when I was young how I never thought of death until I was taken to a fire and brimstone Baptist church when I was 5 and listening to the continuous message that I would burn in Hell for all my transgressions. I did not know what “transgressions” were but I knew I had been involved in some and the thought of Death and a sea of fire for eternity without any Saturday morning cartoons was a terrifying thought. Amazing that my mother had no idea that she had spoiled the ignorance of knowing what death was for a small child who still believed in the Easter Bunny for Christ’s sake! Thinking of death was brown trouser time for me. I would go missing for days and my mother would find me holed up in a cupboard or a closet hiding myself away from death. I think this is when I developed my weekly habit of feeding my brother any toxic substance I could find that my mother believed was safely stored away and him showing absolute blind faith each and every time and ingesting it. You would have thought after the 5th emergency room visit for a stomach pump he would have learned or someone would have asked “Mrs. Crawford, why is your son in here every week having his stomach pumped for consuming oil, RAID, ear drops, rat poison, aspirin etc, etc. I am sorry Brian.

One of my favorite locations associated with death are cemeteries. Land is so valuable in California that affordable plots can only be purchased if a corpse buried in a vertical position or the family plot where everyone in the family, as they die, are joined with those which have passed in an Ikea chest which cost only 17.99 on sale. In my hometown we happened to have a cemetery which was ancient. It was named pioneer cemetery. There had not been a corpse buried there in decades. Even in the bright light of a beautiful summer day the place was ominous. It was not tended by anyone. The surrounding area overgrown with large maples and oaks, made it dark in the day. Plots were so ancient that coffins buried on small hills had portions of them showing from erosion. There is nothing more sacrilegious to know then at one time your final resting place could become home to a group of ground squirrels using your ribcage as a bed. Another reason squirrels are inherently evil. They have no respect for the dead. Well neither do I but I do not sleep with them.

I had a friend named Ryan whose family owned a rather large field and I always noticed they never cleared a stand of trees from the center of it. Just plowed and planted around it. After I inquired about this, he took me to the stand and showed me a dozen small head stones, so worn the carving was not discernable. While I appreciate their respect for the dead, I myself would have had them transferred to another location for burial but I am positive upon finding out the cost involved, would have sold them for profit to a medical supply warehouse to be sold for anatomy classes. I would have kept one as a Halloween decoration or something I could use to hang my newly laundered underwear on to dry. Skeletal hands are great hanging your coats on also. Do not inquiry how I know this.

As a teenager growing up in rural Ohio, I came to understand that any activity that did not at least include the possibility of maiming or lost of limbs was of no interest to myself, my brothers or friends. I look back now and wonder what would have happened that time when myself and 3 friends were throwing a water moccasin at each other and one of use would have gotten bitten? I have a feeling the recipient of the bite would have ended up replacing one of the neighbor’s scarecrows. Unfortunately he would have been discovered very quickly when the farmer started wondering why his scarecrow was attracting crows, LOTS of crows.

One indelible image I still have deals with my grandfather’s death and viewing of the body. When I die, I want a mortician to make me up to look like Emmett Kelly, the bum clown. At least when a loved one saunters up to take a gander at me, they will be shocked at my appearance as well as a surprised as the fake flower I am wearing squirts them square in the face and then 8 people have to pull them off me as I am beaten repeatedly. I remember walking up with my parents and my father picking me up to look at my grandfather. I was only 4 or 5 but I knew he was dead and I did not like it one bit, especially when my father held me near him for me to kiss him. SHIT! I was having none of that! I started screaming a crying and kicking! What I do now when I am turned down for sex. My brothers did not know what was going on but from my reaction they knew there was no ice cream or toys in that huge crate so they immediately started screaming and crying also and creating quite a scene (God I love brothers!). That was the closest brush with necrophilia I ever had unless you do not count that guy I saw having sex with a deer he had hit by the side of the road one morning on my way to work but I think that counts as something else. Like maybe being a F*&KING FREAK!

So as I have aged, I count myself lucky I have lived to see the years I have attained. I am sure my demise is closer at hand then I believe it is. It reminds me of a David Gilmore song “Out Of The Blue”. The end lyrics go:

I cannot believe, nor even pretend,
The thunder I hear, will just disappear
And the nightmare will end.
So hold back the fire,
For this much is true,
When all’s said and done,
The ending will come,
From out of the blue.

I wish Elvis would have heard this song before he bought it on the crapper.