Update on Home Funerals, to Come

I'm on the road to Washington, D.C., where I'll be speaking at the 10th anniversary celebration of Crossings: Caring for Your Own at Death. Readers of Grave Matters will remember its founder, Beth Knox, the mother who holds a home funeral for her seven-year-old daughter following an automobile accident. It's Beth's heartbreaking and affirming story that inspired me to include a chapter on home funerals in the book. I'll report on the celebration and on developments in the home funeral movement when I return.

In the meantime, those of you who have followed our discussion here on the merits of new eco caskets that are showing up in modern-day coffin shops might enjoy this short clip on the topic, from American Public Media's radio show, Marketplace.

The photo above was taken at one of Beth Knox's workshops, in which she teaches the basics of holding a home funeral.

Mark Harris
Author, Grave Matters (www.gravematters.us)

Better to Expire at Home

For my family's sake, I hope I don't expire in any of our local hospitals. If I do, there's no saying if my wife and daughters will be able to handle my final affairs themselves.

That's the gist of what I learned when I called around to hospitals in my area. My question to the spokespersons at each of them was straightforward: would my family be able to take control of my remains -- that is, remove and transport them home or to the crematory or cemetery directly -- were I to die on hospital premises?

The answer? I certainly wish I knew.

One representative said she'd never heard of any family making such a request; another said she'd look into the question and get back (but never did). None of them, in fact, knew what hospital policy was in this case or if one even existed. All, I'm sure, wrote me off as a crackpot (a designation that, as an environmental journalist, I'm all too familiar with).

I'd called the hospitals to help fill out a "final affairs" packet I've been assembling for my family (more on this in future blogs). Planning one's own eventual funeral is always a good idea, for obvious reasons. Doing that for any kind of natural return, particularly one that bypasses the funeral director, is even more important, because families must rely on their own, limited knowledge to pull it off. I figured any information I could provide while still vertical -- i.e., a copy of the hospital policy, the name of representatives I spoke with -- would educate my family about its rights when death came calling, embolden them, perhaps, and, in the process, make the simple funeral/burial of my choice more likely to happen. Starting with getting me out of the hospital.

I knew that policy addressing the release of remains, when it exists at all, differs from hospital to hospital. Some permit families to retrieve remains only if the deceased had expressed such a wish in writing. Others only release corpses to licensed funeral directors.

Certainly, funeral directors remove bodies from hospitals in an efficient manner and know how to navigate the bureaucratic channels of post-deathcare -- a big plus for hospitals and families. But are funeral directors the only entities who may undertake that responsibility -- by law? Following my less than fruitful interactions with area hospitals, I've begun to consider this broader question: do hospitals have the legal right to deny families the opportunity to retrieve their own dead from hospital grounds?

I'll investigate this question in the coming weeks and report back.

The photograph that heads this blog was taken at Honey Creek Woodlands, a conservation burial ground for all faiths on the grounds of the 2,100-acre Monastery of the Holy Spirit, outside Atlanta. Slated to open next month, it's being developed and operated by Billy and Kimberley Campbell of Memorial Ecosystems. More on this newest and intriguing -- a Monastery! -- addition to the growing list of green cemeteries shortly.

Note: I'm out of town to celebrate Easter with family next week. My next blog entry will be on March 28.

Cremation: The Tour

What impressed me most when I visited the crematory I profile in Grave Matters -- Philadelphia Crematories Incorporated (PCI) -- was the openness of owner Bill Sucharski and staff. Far from seeking to shield this reporter from the details of disposition by fire, Bill literally opened his doors to me, leading me on a tour of his spotless facility, answering my every question (multiple times and over repeated visits) and allowing me a look behind the scenes. It's the same tour he offers anyone who knocks on his door, because, as Bill told me, "We’re not doing anything we’re ashamed of."

You should demand a similar tour of any crematory you're considering engaging, says Bill. Until you do, here’s a limited preview, compliments of the History Channel, of what you can expect to see.

Mark Harris
Author, Grave Matters (www.gravematters.us)

Keeping it Local Even in Death

If you want to see a model of how we can survive -- and even thrive -- in an increasingly warming world, book a table at the White Dog Café.

Sprawling across three brownstones that front a narrow side street just west of center city Philadelphia, the White Dog serves up a hearty New American cuisine that has won over food critics and attracted a large and loyal clientel. But good eats alone aren't what bring patrons back for more. It's the White Dog's commitment to the region it calls home.

Every dish is quite literally a taste of southeast Pennsylvania.

The Big Juicy Burgers on the lunch menu come from grass-fed cows that graze on a small, family farm some 40 miles away. An Amish-area farm supplies the eggs (from free-range chicken) that fill out the Three Egg Omelette. The cheese in the beet salad starter comes compliments of goats gamboling in meadows just beyond the city limits; beers -- Stoudts, Sly Fox, Victory -- are native brewed.

The White Dog's regional outreach nourishes a local economy that's a win-win for all involved. The short distance from farm to plate is good for the environment, limiting the commute of gas-guzzling and carbon-spewing delivery transports. Area farmers gain reliable markets for their goods. The greater Philadelphia region benefits from financial transactions that recycle funds within their communities. The Café itself is able to offer fresh and usually organic fare that’s good for patrons, suppliers and its own bottom line.

The arrangement works for southeast Pennsylvania, and it can do so elsewhere. (To learn how other communities are doing just that and to see how you can join the effort, click on this link to the Business Alliance for Local Living Economies). Local is the new organic, and, the way I see it, we'll have to start living much closer to home to have any chance of prospering in a rapidly changing environment.

So, what's the connection to green burial?

As the green burial movement gains traction, we'll see the rise of a market in "natural" funerary products, from coffins that biodegrade harmlessly and quickly in the environs of the grave to cloth shrouds with lowering straps stitched into the fabric. Most will prove better for the planet than the hermetically-sealed steel caskets that for now are still standard feature of modern burial. Others will turn out to be more green-washed than true green.

How to tell the difference?

First, figure out what's necessary. Edward Abbey's simple, desert burial (the subject of last week's post) reminds us that less is almost always better for the Earth. Mother Nature does green burial best when nothing stands in her way. Like compost, the body's decay happens. Our job, as Abbey said, is to just "get the hell out of the way" of the natural process.

When you decide to use coffins or shrouds or urns or other funeral/burial goods, try -- as the White Dog does -- to purchase those produced closest to home. In Grave Matters, I profile an octogenarian living in Iowa who buys a plain, pine box from a nearby carpenter. The arrangement worked to the benefit of buyer, seller, the economy of eastern Iowa and the planet.

The arrangement could have worked to even better advantage, certainly. The coffin's white pine, for example, was timbered in northern Minnesota, a good day's transport from its point of sale; the forest where the pine was felled, I believe, is not sustainably harvested. So, while sold locally, the coffin is in some deeper way not a completely home-grown or green product. (An issue, by the way, that some casket makers are addressing, a topic of a future post).

Perfection is a worthy goal. That doesn't mean we should necessarily shun natural funeral products that fall short of such high green standards (particularly, again, since the small "e"co good is likely world's better than the standard, mass-produced alternative). It does mean, however, that we should set high standards and encourage producers -- and ourselves -- to reach for them.

Keeping it local in death is a good place to start.

The photo above pictures the entrance of the White Dog Café. You’ll find more information on the White Dog’s commitment to local economies in this story I wrote many years ago for Hope magazine.

Mark Harris
Author, Grave Matters (www.gravematters.us)