Setting a new goal...

Time. A most interesting commodity. We never have enough
of it.....you can't keep it in a bank like you do with those
coins you earn every day....but you can squander it ....
and once it's 'clicked' by....you can't recall it.

Each year passes more quickly than the one before it.
Remember when your parents told you not to wish
your life away... to just enjoy being a kid?  Little did
we know back then that they indeed did know what they
were talking about. Each one of us is that 'blade of grass'
which will soon wither away and return from which
we came.  Time guarantees that for sure.

Is it our dilemma? Not at all. Spending our precious
time is an action that we need to apply well.
Choose the right people and the correct situations
that will give you the most joy. The time you spend
there will be an investment in your happiness and
self worth.

Winding the clock as we begin 2017 should give
us all some thought about the new year.
Forget the resolutions. Set a couple of small
goals that you know you can reach and will
give you joy.

Give thought to your mom and dad. Whether
they are still with you or not....if not for them,
you would not be here to again wind that
clock.  Time. Keep track of it. Don't let it
slip away while you aren't looking.

In a few days... I'll be re-posting a pretty spooky tale I wrote in July.
'A skate on strange ice' seems very appropriate right now with the
weather upon us. If you're a new found friend and reader, get back
for it. It will make you pay attention the next time you go out for
a skate.  Stay safe all.

'On Undertakings'....

It's been 21 months since the release of Undertakings of an
Undertaker; true stories of being laid to rest.  I want to
thank all of you who have supported me in this huge project.
It's been a 'real ride' so far, and more work ahead for
Undertakings, and a projected finish of book number two
in a few months.

If you haven't read Undertakings, here is a sampling of
some of the Amazon reviews. Again, thank you all
and the best to you in the new year!

Format: Paperback

Excellent! Have ordered extra copies for friends through Amazon. Eye-opening stories on the art of laying loved ones to rest from the perspective of a true professional. So often we take for granted the people who provide critical services during crises in our lives. This author shares experiences that honor the rituals and respect involved with a person's final journey. The author breaks the barrier that funerals are "all about the money" and shows how caring for the dead really is a very personal commitment to respect the rituals that have evolved over time. Some good humor here too! Provides a great opportunity to reflect in your own personal destination and how you would want your story to be told! A great read....

A very interesting book. Whenever I had to put the book down, I couldn't wait to get back to it. Mr. Swan comes through as a very sensitive and caring man. He mentions the victims of 9/11 and Katrina, but does so with the utmost respect. He participated in both, and relates how he was sent to help out. They are all different stories and they are all pretty interesting. He relates the mortuary business from a very humane side and every once in awhile he relates a story with humor, once again with respect. Loved it!

This book was written with a lot of feeling, clearly this is a man who loves his work and makes a difference in the lives of others. Enjoyable.

It was an interesting depiction of life behind the curtains of the funeral business, also had humor which made it more lighthearted I really enjoyed it!!!

Loved it! Some of the stories were hilarious and others made you go "hum". I highly recommend it

Short episodes giving insight into the unusual activities behind the scenes at a small town funeral parlor. Some humorous, some thought provoking, but always with decorum.

2017...an exciting year!

'Merry Christmas' !

As we end 2016, let's not forget those who are less
fortunate then ourselves.... those that may be alone
for the holidays...and those men and service women
who are serving far away from the families.

I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a happy new year.

Come back in January for some great new stories I'll be offering.. and a 'tease' about the new book which hopefully will be out mid-2017.

Enjoy your family and friends and renew those
old friendships that have gone astray... they are
a real blessing in these forever changing times!

'The letter'....

            a tale by Stanley Swan

Hazel was getting on in years now….how fast the last four decades had passed.  Now in her 80’s, her eye sight failing along with most of her joints, it was a daily chore for Hazel to get down the two front steps to check her mail box. Her neighbor had offered to move the box up to her door step, but Hazel refused…. the box was one of the last things her husband Henry had done at the house before he went off to war.  It was only

a few months after that task had been completed that Henry had been lost in the war….

missing in action they said.  She remembers the day the army car with the minister came

to her front door, bearing the bad news, a day she relived every day at 2:30 when the

old clock on the wall struck it’s chime.  Forty years later, and no news had ever come

about Henry’s whereabouts….it was such a hard pill to swallow. 

From time to time Hazel would go to her writing desk that she shared with Henry and

look over his glorious stamp collection. He was so fond of it. He had started collecting

as a youngster, and had amassed a collection of hundreds of first editions, which he

had proudly put in little folders and labeled with their acquisition dates.  His fondest

stamps were of the Curtiss Jenny, a two wing airplane that had made history when he

was just a teenager. He had ten of those stamps, and he said he would never part with

them.  Hazel smiled sweetly every time she thumbed through Henry’s collection, feeling

a closeness to him, even though he had been gone just shy of four decades now.

It was late in the morning, and Hazel had enjoyed her usual cup of tea while waiting for

Mr. Billings the mailman to arrive on his daily rounds. As Hazel dusted around her

modest possessions and thought about what she might cook for supper later in the

day, she was startled by the sharp alarm of the door bell.  Very few called upon her

and she moved as quickly as she could toward the front door…her eyes trying to pierce

the screen door in an attempt to recognize who might be calling.

“Oh it’s you Mr. Billings, please come in” Hazel said as the older gentleman tipped his

hat and acknowledged her invitation. “What can I help you with Mr. Billings?”

“Well Ma’am I wanted to come by and give you this letter and apologize on behalf

of the postal service… it seems that this letter somehow has been lost or misplaced

for a very very long time….and I….”   His speech suddenly halted as he extended the

envelope to Hazel, she reaching with a frail left arm to accept it.

“Good day Ma’am” said Billings, he turned and very quietly let himself out the front

door. 

Hazel walked softly to the writing desk, lowered the desk top front and sat down to

examine the piece. It was old, very old, and faded.

The envelope was now brown and dark, wrinkled and warped. Her breath was taken

away when she looked closely at the handwriting…… it was handwriting that she had seen

so many times and was most familiar.… the script had been written by her beloved Henry.

She wanted to rip it open and read it immediately, but just savoring the script was enough

for right now….opening would come in time. Hazel tried to examine the cancellation date, but

the ink was all faded, un-readable, but the stamp looked out of place….it looked almost new,

in sharp contrast to the envelope which held it in place.  Maybe the post office put a new

stamp on to make it ‘right’ for her after such a delay. 

But looking closer, Hazel recognized this stamp….it was the Curtiss Jenny… that stamp that

Henry loved so much.  Her mind raced quickly, remembering the ten Curtiss Jenny’s that

Henry had in his collection. 

Hazel pulled out Henry’s stamp book… flipped thru those wonderful pages until she

found his Curtiss Jenny’s.  But upon counting closely from left to right, Hazel only

found nine, not ten.  The spot for number ten was bare…… but number ten was

not lost in the folder, or anywhere in the desk… it was now affixed to this last piece

of mail which Hazel now clutched next to her heart. As tears streamed down her face,

she thanked God for her Henry, and this last delivery that was so so special indeed.

Hazel decided that tonight after supper, she would open the envelope and re-discover

the man she had loved, lost, and now just found.

'Time expired'.....

Over the years I've seen some pretty interesting headstones
in literally scores of cemeteries. They ranged from the
 very simple to the very flamboyant, from a simple oak
 board marker to an inventive and creative marble stone.
When traveling out of state, which was very infrequent,
 I would try to drive through some of the older cemeteries
 to explore and be amazed by the sights you would see.
You can tell a lot about a person sometimes just by the
kind of marker that sits over their grave site.

From the serious to the humorous...many people have etched
their way into 'marker history' by the inscriptions rendered.

A small lamb or angel decorating a child's grave... as if to keep
watch over the little one tucked in below. A bench at the head
of the grave to give visitors a place to sit and 'chat' with their
loved one's.....what a nice idea. The one pictured here, the
expired parking meter has been seen many times around the
country.. and was once used I know by a lady who actually
retired as a meter maid... she thought it would be very
fitting to mark her grave to reflect her many years spent in
the profession.  I haven't seen a a granite donut on a grave yet,
but for those who are obsessed with such in life...it is
possible that that too may someday appear.

The big craze in the last few years is the addition of solar
cemetery lights.  They are indeed fantastic. We put one on
our mother's grave in 2001.. and it is still functioning nicely,
giving a soft glow and friendly appearance as soon as the
sun goes down.

With Christmas coming up...it's a sacred visit to make. If
your cemetery allows, take a small wreath or simple
artificial flower to adorn a loved one's grave....you'll
be overwhelmed with the feelings you'll receive!

You can learn a lot from visiting a cemetery. It's not the
mall, it's not the local pizza joint or sports arena.
It's a place you can discover, remember, honor, and
even learn a great deal. You might even 'run into' some
one you know there.

Undertaking a tractor...

Here is my 1959 Moto tractor made by Dura Manufacturing of Richmond.
Information about it's history is very scarce, and I'm told it's quite
valuable as few were made and/or survived....

So, it's off to the step sons for complete restoration, paint, motor, the
works... should be a good winter project and ready to take to some
shows maybe next summer.... it also has a one bottom plow and a disc
that will have to be addressed.  Ha., and you thought I was a city
slicker didn't you?

Maybe I can somehow find out who owned the tractor and if it has
some ominous story behind it that would fit into my writing site
here... we shall see!

'Remembering Dec. 7th'...

It was a devastating and destructive day in our history when over
2300 service members lost their lives that day in Pearl Harbor.
We should all spend just a bit of time reflecting on that day,
the loss of human life and the chapter it wrote in our
history. Many young people are not even aware of that
brutal attack and it's consequences.  The toppling of the world trade center buildings brought back the shock of what it's like for a nation to be under brutal attack.
Let's pause just a moment this week to give thought to that day.... to the men and women who served, and for so so many that lost their lives there. War is a terrible brutality on the planet.... and let's hope our newly elected president will keep us strong from any eventual conflicts that could result in a similar outcome. Today, give thanks... and may the families still feeling the loss have peace.

'Piercing the veil'...

‘Piercing the veil’…….

The great magician Harry Houdini was a fascinating magician and illusionist. He captivated

audiences not only in the U.S. but abroad. His untimely death on Halloween in 1926 resulted

from an unusual incident days before while performing. For many years Houdini had been

challenged by his family and close followers to ‘bridge the gap’ after death; to make contact

from the great beyond. For years after his death, yearly se’ances were held in hopes of

making contact with Harry, and some with positive results were later debunked as just

fakes. Death was finally the ‘realm’ that Houdini could not escape. His story is a great one

and is briefed here with information from wikipedia. Many books have been written about

the man over the decades, and probably more will be forthcoming.

Harry Houdini died of peritonitis, secondary to a ruptured appendix at 1:26 p.m. on October 31, 1926 in Room 401 at Detroit's Grace Hospital, aged 52. In his final days, he optimistically held to a strong belief that he would recover, but his last words before dying were reportedly, "I'm tired of fighting. Eyewitnesses to an incident at Houdini's dressing room in the Princess Theatre in Montreal gave rise to speculation that Houdini's death was caused by a McGill University student, J. Gordon Whitehead, who delivered a surprise attack of multiple blows to Houdini's abdomen.

Before Houdini died, he and his wife agreed that if Houdini found it possible to communicate after death, he would communicate the message "Rosabelle believe", a secret code which they agreed to use. Rosabelle was their favorite song. Bess held yearly séances on Halloween for ten years after Houdini's death. She did claim to have contact through Arthur Ford in 1929 when Ford conveyed the secret code, but Bess later said the incident had been faked. The code seems to have been such that it could be broken by Ford or his associates using existing clues. Evidence to this effect was discovered by Ford's biographer after he died in 1971. In 1936, after a last unsuccessful séance on the roof of the Knickerbocker Hotel, she put out the candle that she had kept burning beside a photograph of Houdini since his death. In 1943, Bess said that "ten years is long enough to wait for any man."

The tradition of holding a séance for Houdini continues, held by magicians throughout the world. The Official Houdini Séance was organized in the 1940s by Sidney Hollis Radner, a Houdini aficionado from Holyoke, Massachusetts.Yearly Houdini séances are also conducted in Chicago at the Excalibur nightclub by "necromancer" Neil Tobin on behalf of the Chicago Assembly of the Society of American Magicians; and at the Houdini Museum in Scranton by magician Dorothy Dietrich, who previously held them at New York's Magic Towne House with such magical notables as Houdini biographers Walter B. Gibson and Milbourne Christopher. Gibson was asked by Bess Houdini to carry on the original seance tradition. After doing them for many years at New York's Magic Towne House, before he died, Walter passed on the tradition of conducting of the Original Seances to Dorothy Dietrich.

Houdini's funeral was held on November 4, 1926, in New York City, with more than 2,000 mourners in attendance. He was interred in the Machpelah Cemetery in Glendale, Queens, with the crest of the Society of American Magicians inscribed on his grave site. A statuary bust was added to the exedra in 1927, a rarity, because graven images are forbidden in Jewish cemeteries. In 1975, the bust was destroyed by vandals. Temporary busts were placed at the grave until 2011 when a group who came to be called The Houdini Commandos from the Houdini Museum in Scranton, Pennsylvania placed a permanent bust with the permission of Houdini's family and of the cemetery.

And the stones on the grave marker? It’s really a Jewish custom but is now practiced by

many of all faiths..the simple act has come to be a great sign of respect for our deceased

loved ones. It is a ‘sign’ to those stopping by that the grave has recently been visited and that

the deceased has not been forgotten…so next time you visit… take a small stone or two

with you!

'Thanks to the Phelps library'...

A big thank you to the Phelps community library today for having me in 

to tell a few stories and answer some questions.  

For the nice folks that attended... we read a few stories,but more importantly

answered lots of questions about the funeral industry itself.  I've found

that more and more people have questions they never felt comfortable

in asking; things about cremation, direct burial, organ  and body 

donations and so much more.  The story telling was quite short as the

questions kept coming fast and furious!

Thanks to those attending and to the library for having me there today, 

It's always a joy to talk with people one-on-one and to get their

reactions to a specific topic at hand. 

You never know until you ask...a good motto to live by I guess.  

Thanks for stopping by.

Sunday night: Harry Houdini...a legend magician and illusionist....Harry
had been challenged to 'pierce the veil' after his death...some brief notes
about him and that 'attempt'....later this weekend.

Come back for it.

'A half century ago'...

It's hard to believe it was over fifty years ago when John Kennedy and his beloved wife
made that fateful visit to Dallas Texas. For people who were alive when it took place,
most can remember where they were when they heard that awful news that their
President had been shot and killed.

And days later, on live TV, the murder of the accused Lee Harvey Oswald by night
club owner Jack Ruby.

 After five decades and several investigations, questions still surround that
assassination and it's players.  The questions will go on for years to come I am sure,
as new generations come forward to look into the facts or lack-there-of.

There are still many many questions about that day in Dallas.....

sometime in the future we'll look at some of the facts and rumors, just to refresh our
memories, and maybe to consider some new alternatives.

Let's hope your future leaders will be kept safe from such catastrophic circumstances.

'A look ahead'....

'An attempt at waking'.....

 Here is a chapter from the book Undertakings of an Undertaker.   Yes, things like

     this actually happen when you own a funeral home, it was a memorable day indeed.

                                                   

  Our funeral home was located at the corner of Church St. and Pleasant Avenue, both very quiet streets in this very small village tucked away in the foothills of the Southern Tier.  On an average day, you could stand on the front porch and watch the small town folks going about their daily routines: a youngster riding the bike down the sidewalk, hurrying to the school playground just a block and a half to the north, an elderly lady walking down the same sidewalk on her way to pick up her mail on Main Street, one block to the west and an easy two minutes away. This truly was small town America.

     The funeral I was planning for mid- morning was to be quite small, probably no more than thirty people or so. The woman who had passed was very elderly, with few family survivors left. She had outlived most of her friends and co-workers.  She was a former school teacher.  We were not going to proceed to the cemetery after the service.  She was to be buried twenty miles away in a family plot with her husband who had passed away over thirty years ago.  So being very at ease this day, I went to my daily duties of sweeping off the sidewalk and picking up the occasional piece of trash, which was quite rare to find on our street. It was going to be a repeat of another peaceful day, or so I thought.

    Twenty minutes before service time, the small family arrived.  I seated them in the chapel near the casket and had some very light piano music playing in the background. The deceased had enjoyed the piano herself, the family said, often sitting down at her old upright and playing for an hour or two nightly before retiring. We soon had what I had estimated: just under thirty mourners in the chapel as we awaited the arrival of the Methodist minister, who was just a half block from the funeral home. He would often arrive just moments before service time, scooting in at the last minute, knowing that I would have the speakers stand and microphone in place, anticipating his arrival.  True to form, he arrived just three minutes before service time and handing me his slightly worn overcoat as he came through the front door.

     “We all set?” he asked.

         I nodded in the affirmative and replied, “I’ll turn the music down. Your mic is on, and you can get started when you’re ready.”

     The minister meandered up the aisle, bent over and remarked quickly to the next of kin before setting his notes on the podium. I was always stationed at the front door so I could receive anyone arriving late.  From my vantage point, I could also look over the backs of those in attendance and see the minister as he performed his duties. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a village truck stopping at the corner of our intersecting streets. I didn’t think it odd, as they were out and about all day around the village doing their daily maintaining of streets and sidewalks. I gave their arrival little more thought as the minister started his brief eulogy. As I set this scene, I must tell you that our chapel is very close, I mean within one foot of the sidewalk on Pleasant Avenue, so the casket is within five to six feet of the actual roadway. The minister had gotten to a very quiet part of his presentation and had asked those in attendance to bow their heads in prayer.

     He went on to say, “In this quiet moment of this most peaceful day, we take this pause to remember the life of Helen.”

     Before he could utter the next sentence, the room started shaking from the reverberation of a jackhammer which was now pounding the pavement less than ten feet from where the speaker’s podium stood. There were four pieces of flowers spread around the casket; their flowers and supporting greenery were vibrating wildly. The drapery behind the casket was also responding, and not favorably, from the concussion that was emanating from the street. The minister’s microphone was picking up the jackhammer’s report and broadcasting it into the two rooms where speakers were connected. He stopped suddenly, looked up, and looked at me with this “what do I do now” look on his face. I raised one hand for him to stop.  He smiled and nodded to the family as I raced out the front door, down the four steps and across the front lawn, all in one brisk leap that would have made the Olympics if I had been timed. The jackhammer operator saw me coming and eased off the machine, lifted his eye protection and uttered, “What?”

     After a brief explanation that we had a service in progress, I told him to take his co-worker downtown for a coffee break, my treat, and give us twenty minutes to complete our work. He apologized, said he would be back in a minute and they retreated in the village truck as I had asked.

    The service continued without further interruption, well almost. As we pulled out of the driveway a couple of hours later, we had to take a right onto the street as opposed to the usual left, as they had removed part of the pavement to work on a water line. I’m sure Helen didn’t mind; it was an even more memorable day.

    On the way out of the chapel, one of the mourners whispered to me, “Stan, next time maybe I better bring ear protection.” He laughed gingerly as he exited the funeral home, which is certainly better than crying.

'Thank you Veterans'.....

As we celebrate another Veteran's day....let us be mindful
of the great sacrifices that were made by both deceased
veterans, and those that have served and survive.
We only enjoy the things we have today because of their
unselfish gifts to us. Today, visit a cemetery and give a
salute, stop by your veteran neighbor and shake his/her
hand, stop one in Walmart who has a service hat on
and say thank you. More than ever now in our country
we can not take anything for granted.....if we do, it
can, and will slip away from us.

'Darkness radio interview'....

In case you missed it 'live' on Wednesday night, here is the
link to my interview on Darkness Radio in the Twin Cities
with Dave Schrader's fill in host Tim Dennis.
The discussion starts at 11:00 minutes into the program.
Their producer tells me I'll be back on before too long to
talk with Dave, as there is a lot of things we didn't get
to talk about....have a great day out there folks.
The link is;
http://twincitiesnewstalk.iheart.com/media/play/27465594/

'Turn around or not?'

A photo taken at a cemetery in Waterloo, N.Y. kind of says it all for those taking the
side road in.....a picture is worth a thousand words I think the old saying was.

Now that you are here, scroll down and enjoy some of the latest stories I've posted..
 just in time for Halloween....

The house upon the hill..

A very close encounter...

The scarecrow...
 and several more. They are all short reads and I think you'l enjoy them. Thanks
and take care!

'So many abandoned cemeteries'......

It's a shame, but each year more and more cemeteries around the country are being

abandoned.  There are several reasons for it. Many cities and towns just don't have the

money or the man power to keep them up. Mowing, clearing brush, re-setting stones

that have toppled because of weather, age and/or vandalism takes time and money.  

Especially this is becoming epidemic in rural areas around the country. Few young

people want to 'step up' to help in maintaining the final resting place for those who

have gone before.  Maybe we should collectively start a new national campaign or

group to address the problem.. what do you think?  Is there an abandoned cemetery

or two near where you live?  You can leave a comment below if you wish, I'd love

to hear from you.  The picture above is of the Bayside-Acacia Cemetery in Queens.

' A thanks to the library'....

Many thanks to the folks at the Newark, N.Y. library, and especially Karen Vanderbrook.

I had the great opportunity to speak with them on Friday, Sept. 9th and talk about my

book Undertakings of an Undertaker. Following a nice luncheon at noon, I spoke for

about 40 minutes about the funeral business and answered many many questions from

the thirty+ people that were in attendance. Even bumped into a couple of people I knew

from almost four decades ago!  It is a small world indeed. Next up; a possible second

signing at the Dog Ear Book Store in Palmyra, perhaps late October... and a trip to

Rochester retired teachers group early next year. Stay tuned... there will be mores short

stories coming soon... after all, with Halloween just around the corner....it's a natural time

to tell some good tales. As you scroll down the site here, you will find, I think, about 15

short stories I have posted.. and you can add comments at the end if you so desire..

Thanks for stopping in.. let's have a long fall.. and good health to you and yours!

Dead .......and not forgotten.

Dead..... and not forgotten.


Well, 39 years ago this week the King of Rock and Roll Elvis went on to
meet his maker.  August 16th, 1977.  Remember the week pretty well. It
was just before I was getting ready to go to mortuary school, and was still
in broadcasting at the time.  On that Saturday night, four days after his passing,
I was doing a live broadcast on 1180 WHAM in Rochester. My program was
the Saturday night soft sounds., aired from 7 pm to 12 midnight. I followed
the late David A. Sennett, who was a fantastic broadcaster and a true professional.

I remember the first night I went on the air at 1180. Just before David finished
his show, he turned to me and said..."think nothing of the audience you'll be
talking to tonight...when you open the mic switch, you'll probably get into
over 30 states, Canada, Greenland and some 'skip' overseas."
Wow. I was petrified.  Thanks David for scaring me to death my first night.

Anyway, that first Saturday night after Elvis died, I did the usual soft sounds
which included Anne Murray, Perry Como, Bobby Vinton, you get the
drift... it's was dreamy type music to enjoy your Saturday night by.  And as
a show of respect, we mixed in a few of Elvis's more romantic tunes.

Can't say I was a huge Elvis fan.  I liked some of, but not all of his music. I don't
know if I would have gone to see him if he had played a concert near me.

Funny, his estate is now making more money with him dead than when he was alive.

Funny how that works. Elvis, Beatles and others. True legends for sure.

Will they be 'played' fifty years from now?  Good chance.

Coming up .......

In the works.....

Friday and Gannon......

A few trivial facts about the famous duo...

Jack Webb would pay $25 to any L.A. police officer who submitted a story that was used for an episode of the TV show Dragnet.

Through all 100 episodes of the series, Friday is only seen wearing something other than his regular suit four times: three times for undercover work and once for a scene in his apartment.

Friday and Gannon used a 1967 Ford Fairlane 4dr. sedan as their squad car.

Gannon and Friday's car was known as unit 1K80

Bill Gannon was married and stated he had four children, while Joe Friday was a confirmed bachelor

When Jack Webb revived the show in 1966, it was in response to the growing tide of teen-age drug use, especially LSD.

For the sake of continuity, Friday and Gannon always wore the same outfits in every episode. According to Harry Morgan, he and Jack Webb decided to switch coats for one scene to see if anyone noticed. Because only Morgan was in the scene, no one on the set realized it until the scene had been shot. In the next scene, Morgan has on the correct coat. This is the only incident of faulty continuity in the series' run

Burial or cremation? leave a comment....

Have you given thought about what you want for yourself?  More people are choosing cremation over the standard burial.  Most people I have found have strong feelings about one or both,
depending on there religion, upbringing, family traditions etc..  Click and leave a comment for me if you would... you don't have to use your name... just what your preference might be... think it will be an interesting survey, and in a couple of weeks I'll publish the results. Thanks!

In the works..

In the works....

Need a speaker?

Just a note... if you are within a couple of hours driving time from our home in Newark,
New York....and need a speaker for an upcoming occasion.....drop me a note.  In addition to
the radio presentations I am doing, I have events planned in Wayne County and Monroe
County coming up and I'd love to come and visit with your group.  I tell stories from the
book, and also a few other short stories time permitting. I usually speak for about 20
minutes or so.  My email is undertakings@inbox.com

Hope to hear from you!

Flying at the Sky Rovers field, Phelps N.Y.

Nothing like burning a little fuel at the r.c. field on a nice summer's day... this is a 62 inch
wing span .40 glow fuel engine airplane that's nice and stable...just a 'putt around' in the sky
model if you will.

"you'll shoot your eye out kid"

How  could any of us forget those lines from that great 80's movie a
Christmas Story?  What started out as a low budget, get-it-out quick flick
became a real icon in the film world and is seen non stop over the holidays.

Poor Ralphie wanted that red ryder bb gun so bad he could taste it...back in the
fifties and sixties we all wanted that bb gun.. and most of us had one... and guess
what? No one I know ever lost an eye to one... although I'm sure it happened
somewhere, unfortunate it as it may be.

My brothers and I hunted sparrows and pigeons with our bb guns...had contests
actually.....who could get the most....and most days the birds were the winners when
we couldn't hit the barn wall even with a blind fold on.

We went from bb guns to twenty two's... to shotguns and so forth.  Never had a cannon
or a hand grenade, although we did have a few fire crackers from time to time...
those things did smart when they went off in your hand!

My brother Ed and I set off a homemade fire cracker I had made from stuff I got thru
the U.S. mail.....put it in an old desk up the creek... leveled that sucker... good thing we
were both back fifty yards plus.

Can't imagine what the next generation will do for fun....electronics and computer boards
have taken over the young people....maybe that's a good thing....I just don't think it will
have the feel of pouring those bb's into the storage part of the bb gun, cockin' that
thing and letting it fly....

The younger people probably will never get to hear that saying..."you'll shoot your eye
out kid."   I kind of feel sorry for them actually.  I won't give mine up.. they'll have to
pry it from my old withered, skinny arms someday.

A Black Cat in October
(from the book Undertakings of an Undertaker)

      It was a terrific fall day in mid-October. The sky was brilliant blue, and white rolling clouds raced from west to east as the afternoon’s late day sun moved to make its exit over the crimson maple tree out front.  The afternoon’s calling hours had gone quite well, and a good number of people had shown up to pay their respects to the current occupant of the reposing room.  It was my usual  practice to be at the front door to open and close, greet people as they entered, asking for their wraps when appropriate, and to point out the register stand which would  accept their signature for the family.   And so the afternoon was gone. The family had left the funeral home; now it was time to pick up, run the vacuum, check the restroom, check the deceased, yes, check the deceased.  It was not unusual that during calling hours, visitors would place things in the casket or even on the deceased.  Those items could range from notes, to playing cards, to more bizarre items.  Once, years before, I had found a note, wide open, telling the deceased that he still owed the visitor some money, but not to worry about it!  That note was folded and neatly tucked into the man’s suit. The family wouldn't need to be aware of that one.   I learned several years before to expect almost anything at any time, and that was the rule in funeral service. 

      The brief two hour break between the afternoon and evening sets of calling hours really wasn’t lengthy enough for any time to rest.  A quick bite to eat, quicker shave and perhaps a clean shirt, and it was back at the front door, ready to greet the family as they returned for the evening calling hours.  The porch, step and sidewalk lights were all lit and generated a warm glow, leading from the street to the funeral home entrance. A brief wind gust blew autumn leaves across the walkway as the family entered and went into the parlor to await the evening’s visitors.  Evenings were usually quite busy at the funeral home. People were done with work, had had dinner and were accustomed to visit, view the deceased, and sign the register book. It was tradition, tradition that had gone on for decades in small towns and cities all over the country. 

    

    As I stood at the entrance chatting with an old friend, I looked out the front door and saw a black cat making its way up the sidewalk. His devilish eyes shined from the walkway lights as he swaggered his way up the sidewalk, up the four steps and to the front door. He paused. I opened the door to step out, but before I could, he stepped in!  Not stopping, the cat made a quick left, walked past the register stand and straight toward the casket and family about twelve yards ahead.  Those sitting in chairs stopped chatting, their eyes pulled to the feline, as he made his way into the front room. The guest never stopped, went to the casket, did a U-turn, walked back out the exact same path, exited the funeral home, and meandered down the walkway.     

     My friend Kenny asked, "Friend of yours?" 

     "Never saw the beast before," I said. 

     It was October, Halloween was just around the corner, and a black cat visited the local funeral parlor.  It kind of all fit together very appropriately, I thought.  We were only missing a thunder and lightening storm, but we'll save that for another time. And I had made one error with that October evening visitor: I failed to get him or her to sign the register book.