This section of our website is devoted to a variety of little treasures that we’ve uncovered —
whether they be poingnant or humorous. We are pleased to share them with you.

The Farmer’s Casket Spray
The funeral for a farmer who grew barley, wheat, cotton, corn and tobacco featured a casket spray composed of a sampling of all the crops he harvested.

Sullivan Ballou Letter
An absolutely beautiful letter and a moving story.
During the American Civil War, a week before the First Battle of Bull Run, an officer in the Union Army named Sullivan Ballou wrote the following letter to his wife Sarah. July 14, 1861, Washington, DC My Very Dear Wife, The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days — perhaps tomorrow — and lest I should not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I am no more. I have no misgivings about — or lack of confidence in — the cause of which I am engaged, and my courage does not falter. I know how American civilization now leans upon the triumph of the government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution, and I am willing — perfectly willing — to lay down all my joys in this life to help maintain this government, and to pay that debt. Sarah, my love for you is deathless, and it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence can break. And yet, my love of country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly with all those chains to the battlefield. The memories of all the blissful moments I have enjoyed with you come crowding over me, and I feel most deeply grateful to God and to you that I have enjoyed them for so long. And how hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes and future years when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our boys grown up to honorable manhood around us. If I do not return my dear Sarah, never forget how much I loved you, nor that when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name. Forgive my many faults and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless, how foolish I have sometimes been. But, Oh Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they love, I shall always be with you, in the brightest day and the darkest night. Always, Always… And, when the soft breeze fans your cheek, it shall be my breath. And, the cool air your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah, do not mourn me dead. Think I am gone, and wait for me, for we shall meet again. Major Sullivan Ballou was killed a week later at the First Battle of Bull Run. Ballou had lost his father at a young age and grew up in poverty. But he persevered and went on to become a well-liked member of the Rhode Island House of Representatives. He did not have to go to war, but as a man of principle, volunteered because of his ardent support of Lincoln. He died at the age of 34. Sarah never remarried, but his sons did grow up to “honorable manhood.” Among his descendants are five presidents: Millard Fillmore, James Garfield, Calvin Coolidge and both George Bushes.

The Taxi Driver
There are probably plenty of funeral directors out there who can relate to this joke.
A taxi passenger tapped the driver on the shoulder to ask him a question. The driver screamed, lost control of the car, nearly hit a bus, went up on the sidewalk and stopped centimeters from a shop window. For a second everything went quiet in the cab, then the driver said, “Oh man, you scared the daylights out of me!” The passenger apologized and said, “I didn't realize that a little tap would scare you so much.” The driver replied, “Sorry, it’s not really your fault. Today is my first day as a cab driver — I've been driving a first-call car for the last 25 years.”

The Cure For Old Age
Resthaven Funeral Home in Shawnee, Oklahoma, sends us an obituary for a gentleman for whom they handled the service. The obituary was written by the man himself, shortly before his death. His sense of humor helped his family through his last days. Here are some portions.
Douglas Lionel Perryman, born July 30, 1929. Well, it appears that the cigarettes finally nailed me. But I enjoyed every aromatic puff for over 50 years. My only regret is leaving my best friend, lover and wife, Shirley Perryman and our family some 20 years earlier than planned. I want to thank Dr. Stephen N. Adler and his great staff for keeping me alive for several years after my warranty expired. …I just want to say one thing in closing. “Let's not be too critical of the tobacco industry, after all, they did give us a cure for old age.” My services will be held on Thursday, November 30, 2000, 10 a.m. at Resthaven Funeral Home. Interment will follow at Resthaven Memorial Park.

Send Me To Heaven
A funeral director that made light of his own mortality.
Stan Lance, career funeral director in Santa Rosa, California, died suddenly on September 26th. He was past president of the California Funeral Directors Association; friend and colleague to many. In his retirement years, he would occasionally visit the Eggen & Lance Mortuary and sometimes take out his personal prearrangement folder to update and amend. He had appropriately completed all necessary information — and in the space designated for “shipment to,” had entered “heaven, please.”

There's More To “Undertaking” Than You Think
From the folks at Merriam-Webster.
We take a look now at the somewhat surprising history of the word undertaker. Surprising? Well, for starters, that word’s most familiar sense, the one synonymous with funeral director, is the only one with a strong emphasis on the first syllable. In every other sense of the word, the emphasis is on taker. That makes sense when you consider the original sense of undertaker: “one who undertakes,” particularly someone (like an entrepreneur) who undertakes the risk and management of business. Once folks undertook to coin the undertaker word, they were quick to find additional applications for it. Soon, undertaker was being used to refer to someone engaged in a scholarly or scientific exploration or to someone compiling and composing a book for publication. Undertaker could also name a book publisher or the organizer of a stage production. Those senses have now died out, but two other senses born in the 17th century still live on. The first names an Englishman who took over ownership of forfeited lands in Ireland during the 16th and 17th centuries; the second, of course, is the sense we began with: someone whose business it is to prepare the dead for burial and to arrange and manage funerals.

A Tribute To The Patriot
Here's why we shouldn’t take our forefathers' achievements for granted.
Some criticized “The Patriot” as being unhistorical feel-good fantasy. The truth is that the Smithsonian was a consultant to verify historical accuracy. The character, Benjamin Martin, was a combination of three historical persons who all lived within 50 miles of each other in the same county in South Carolina. One of these was Francis Marion, “The Swamp Fox.” The English did slaughter civilians and burn churches. One exception to historical accuracy, Lord Tarlton, Colonel Tavington in the movie, did not die, but returned to Liverpool where he received a hero’s welcome and became an elder of the city. During the Revolutionary War, he was called “The Butcher” and was criticized by General Cornwallis for executing surrendering troops who asked for quarter. Have you ever wondered what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence? Five signers were captured by the British as traitors and tortured before they died. Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned. Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army, another had two sons captured. Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or hardships of the Revolutionary War. What kind of men were they? Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists. Eleven were merchants, nine were farmers and large plantation owners; men of means, well educated. But they signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be death if they were captured. Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British Navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts, and died in rags. Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in the Congress without pay and his family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him and poverty was his reward. Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer, Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge and Middleton. At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr., noted that the British General Cornwallis had taken over the Nelson home for his headquarters. He quietly urged General George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed and Nelson died bankrupt. Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed. The enemy jailed his wife and she died within a few months. John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying. Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill were laid to waste. For more than a year, he lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished. A few weeks later, he died from exhaustion and a broken heart. Norris and Livingston suffered similar fates. Such were the stories and sacrifices of the American Revolution. These were not wild-eyed, rabble-rousing ruffians. They were soft-spoken men of means and education. They had security, but they valued liberty more. Standing straight and unwavering, they pledged: “For the support of this declaration, with firm reliance on the protection of the divine providence, we mutually pledge to each other, our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor.” Do not be depressed about their fate. Take heart! Think rather what was so valuable that they put their lives on the line for it. Some things are worth fighting for. We are their descendants and their gift is our inheritance to treasure, preserve and pass to our children. Or we can meekly deliver our rights and freedoms to whoever asks for them. They gave you and me a free and independent America, an inspiration to the rest of the world. Some of us take these rights for granted, expecting others to protect them, but we shouldn’t. Take a few minutes and silently thank these patriots. It's not much to ask for the price they paid.

Follow Me
Here is our all-time favorite epitaph.
An epitaph from a cemetery in England: Remember man, as you walk by, As you are now, so once was I, As I am now, so shall you be, Remember this and follow me. To which someone replied by writing on the tombstone: To follow you I'll not consent, Until I know which way you went.

The Undertaker By Darlene Rush
Submitted to Mortuary Management by funeral director and embalmer Ken Davis: A poem written by a friend not associated with the funeral industry.
This is for the undertaker, who’s story is sad to tell, for what he does is never mentioned, and often overlooked as well. He’s not at all what you might picture, he's not wrinkled, old and gray. His face is not the pasty white, like storybooks portray. Some people laugh and make their jokes, and some turn up their nose, and many think that he is strange, for the life that he has chose. But there are many things that they don’t see, and even more that they don't know. Like all the nights he gets no rest, but never lets it show. I have seen him work both day and night, with no time to eat or sleep. To care for those in mourning, and comfort those who weep. The load he carries on his shoulders, is more than you or I could bear. But he always seems to find the time, to show you that he cares. So when you see the undertaker, make sure you see the man, that does the job that no one wants and that no one understands. Take the time to shake his hand, and a moment to just say “hi.” I think you'll find the undertaker, is just an ordinary guy.

In Paradisum (Into Paradise, Be Thou Conducted) By Thomas Lynch
From his book of poems, “Still Life in Milford,” available in the Death Care Web Store.
Sometimes I look into the eyes of corpses. They are like mirrors broken, frozen pools or empty tabernacles, doors left open, vacant and agape; like votives cooling, motionless as stone in their cold focus. As if they’d seen something. As if it all came clear to them, at long last, in that last moment of light perpetual or else the black abyss of requiems and nothingness. Only the dead know what the vision is, beholding which they wholly faint away amid their plenary indulgences. In Paradisum, deducant te we pray: their first sight of what is or what isn't.

The Victorian Influence On Funerals
Many interesting expressions and customs entered our culture as a result of the funeral ceremonies and rituals carried out during the Victorian era.
England's Queen Victoria ascended to the throne in 1837 at the age of 18. The Victorian Era, named for this beloved monarch, was a reflection of the Queen's ethics and personal taste. Today, we are still surrounded by her influence in styles of architecture, home furnishings, fashion and even social mores. We think of Victoriana as ornately decorative objects, ice cream-colored houses edged with gingerbread and all manner of lace and flowers. Few of us, however, realize the astounding influence Victoria had on our cemeteries or on the manner in which our ancestors mourned their dead. Victoria married Prince Albert in 1840 and his death in 1861 began a period of mourning for her that lasted until her death in 1901. During this time, Victoria continually wore black dresses and even her petticoats and handkerchiefs were edged with black. Thus began the tradition of wearing black to funerals. In America, nearly every home knew the loss of a loved one as the Civil War raged across the nation. In their preoccupation with death, Victorian mourners at home and abroad gave visual expression of grief both publicly and privately. Framed memorials, hair wreaths in shadowboxes, post-mortem photographic images and even mourning jewelry were common. In larger cities ladies could easily find milliners and dressmakers whose shops specialized in black crape mourning attire. The Victorian Era extended from 1870 to 1915 and during this time people held funerals in their homes, particularly in the part of the home known as the parlor, which gave rise to the expression “funeral parlor.” It was also from this era that the term “wake” was coined. During this time, in some cases, those who were pronounced dead were not actually dead. The body was placed in a wicker casket in the home and a wake was held, which gave a few days’ time to make sure the person was actually dead. During the wake, furniture was draped in black cloth, the curtains were covered with black cloth and mourners would dress in black. Women even wore mourning jewelry. The terms “saved by the bell” and “graveyard shifts” were also established during this era. When you were buried, you would be buried with a string attached to your finger so you could ring a bell if you were to awake. Thus, you could be “saved by the bell.” In case the buried one would awaken, people were hired to watch over the graveyards and monitor the bells, creating the term “graveyard shift.” While the terminology has stayed with us, the Victorian Era’s artes moriendi (death art) has not. With the sanitization of the dying process in the United States, the very concept of “memorial art” has almost become anathema. Some of our older citizens may remember aspects of Victorian mourning practices, but for most people living today, memorial art has been reduced to “limited edition” John F. Kennedy plates or Princess Diana dolls.

Rest In Peace
Here's a little humor to lighten the day.
A new business was opening and one of the owner’s friends wanted to send flowers for the occasion. They arrived at the new business site and the owner read the card; it said “Rest in Peace.” The owner was angry and called the florist to complain. After he had told the florist of the obvious mistake and how angry he was, the florist said, “Sir, I'm really sorry for the mistake, but rather than getting angry you should imagine this: somewhere there is a funeral taking place and they have flowers with a note saying, ‘Congratulations on your new location.’”

To Those I Love and Those Who Love Me By Darrell Ward
Darrell Ward was the former owner of Smith’s Mortuary in Huntington Beach, California, and past vice president of Pacific View Memorial Park in Corona Del Mar. He dedicated this poem to his loved ones prior to his death. He also included the message, “I lived in a wonderful world and had a wonderful life. Love, Darrell.”
When I am gone, release me let me go, I have so many things to see and do. You musn’t tie yourself to me with tears, Be happy that we had so many years. I gave you my love, you can only guess How much you gave to me in happiness. I thank you for the love you each have shown, But now it's time I traveled on alone. So grieve a while for me, if grieve you must, Then let your grief be comforted by trust; It's only for a while that we must part So bless the memories within your heart. I won’t be far away, for life goes on. So if you need me, call and I will come. Through you can’t see or touch me, I’ll be near. And if you listen with your heart, you'll hear All my love around you soft and clear. And then when you must come this way alone, I'll greet you with a smile, and “Welcome home.”