I haven't put a lot of thought into it but in the back of my mind I guess I figured that when the time came, I'd want to be cremated. It seems neater, less gross. I don't especially care what happens to my body after I die but the idea of decomposing in a satin lined box is kind of yucky.
Cremation called to mind the funeral pyre. I like that. Not to mention, I have the cremated remains of the best cat in the world, Creamy Dave, in a bottle. I happened to have a roommate who worked at a vet's office when Creamy Dave met his untimely demise. I don't show them to just anyone and realize it is kind of weird, but they are not gross at all. Kind of interesting actually.
But on the way to work today, I read and article about the enormous amount of gas and energy required to run a crematorium and the amount of pollutants belched out in the process. Some new process, called "resomation" is big with the green crowd. As far as I can tell, "resomation" is a made up word to avoid how revolting this process is. It involves a chamber and boiling chemicals and, while I like to do my part for the planet, it gives me the heebie jeebies. I don't think I could ask my loved ones to do that for me. Bleh.
To try to exorcise those heebie jeebies and in keeping with my Progressive Rock train of thought the past week, I think I need some Kansas.
I love that video. The hair, the furrowed brow, those awful blonde bangs, the high school prom ruffled shirts. Seeing that makes me mad all over that, when my mom fell in love with that song and bought the tickets to see Kansas at Pine Knob in 1978, she took my sister instead of me. I also would have loved to see the looks on both of their faces as they sat surrounded by 1978 pot smoking Kansas fans. Unfortunately, I don't have that memory. I went to Barry Manilow that summer instead.
No comments:
Post a Comment