displayed conspicuously on uniforms with the deceased player’s uniform number or initials.
Another Victorian practice is still found today. In the 1800s, it was common to keep some of the hair of a deceased person, and the practice expanded into an art form. Jewelers of the day would take woven hair of the deceased and design and produce bracelets, earrings, and even watch chains in which the hair was the focal point of the design. Watch chains made of intricately woven hair survive today. I currently grant two or three requests a year for the hair of a deceased person. Sometimes people ask for just a small wisp, and other times they ask me to clip enough to fill a paper sack.
Wearing jewelry constructed from the hair of the deceased is probably the reason for the recent popularity of cremation jewelry that the major casket manufacturers and others are producing. Cremated remains are now “processed,” or ground up, much more finely than in the past, to a consistency of white sand, to accommodate the customer’s desire to retain some of their loved one’s remains. Gold and silver chains that feature a tiny urn or receptacle for cremated remains are very popular today, as are hollow bracelets that can be unscrewed at the ends for a portion of ashes to be deposited inside.
CHAPTER TWELVE
You might remember the General Motors factory worker who had saved money over the years specifically for his wife’s burial. He wanted the most expensive casket for his wife, and he didn’t care what it cost. As we sat at his kitchen table, I saw that the man had no use for banks. I watched in amazement as he pulled $100 bills, one by one, all rolled tightly, from an entire row of old olive jars. Each time he reached $1,000, he asked me to reroll the bills in the opposite direction so they could be smoothed out to be counted. Our transaction complete, I went straight to the bank to deposit the money, which still reeked of olives, as did my fingers. He apparently never thought to rinse out the jars.
Several times each year, a family demands the finest casket available—and the reasons run the gamut. Wealthy clients, if they don’t opt for cremation, insist on the best because that’s what the deceased sought in life. Other well-off families are intent on impressing their well-heeled friends and colleagues. They make such remarks as, “Dad always drove a Mercedes-Benz, so we want the Mercedes-Benz of caskets.”
Some families assume that the most expensive casket is invariably the highest quality; therefore, they easily justify the purchase. A few look at every casket on display, and then, not finding one costly enough, ask to see a catalog picturing the most elaborate solid bronze or solid mahogany options (every funeral home has such a book on the premises).
A staunch Republican friend recently prearranged his own service and selected the exact same solid mahogany casket of his hero, Ronald Reagan. Another gentleman had just lost his wife to cancer. Before his wife died she had been impressed by a neighbor’s casket. The husband asked me how much it would cost, and then requested one that cost twice as much. His wife, he said, always tried to outdo her neighbor in life, so he was going to make it so in death as well.
Another elderly man recently selected an extremely expensive casket for his late wife, reassuring himself that she would have thought it was the “purtiest” one available. He also insisted that the entire interior be replaced with a quilt design that his wife had loved, even after I informed him that the switch would cost an additional $500.
More than once a beneficiary has informed me, “I have a $25,000 life insurance policy, and I want to spend it all, so there is no money left over for anyone to argue about.” Grieving parents also tend to overspend on deceased children. Entering a funeral home often scratches the open sores of both guilt and regret. Even a prodigal child hoping to settle some past parental tiff will purchase a fancy casket to ease a burdensome mind.
But just as some consumers insist that money is no object, many more have no desire or no means to spend a lot of money on funeral merchandise.
I once worked for an employer who simply could not understand why a family opted for limited offerings or purchased inexpensive merchandise. “We can’t stay in business if we keep selling those tin cans,” he’d remark, referring to our low-end caskets. He became especially irate if a family chose immediate cremation—so much cheaper than ground burial—and would be absolutely incensed on the rare occasion of body donation, since our funeral home was merely required to complete a few forms and transport the deceased to the medical school.
A man in the price-shopping mode called one morning and inquired about the cost of our service for body donation. His mother had died, and she had a prearranged agreement, but the son still needed to go through a funeral home to finalize her plans. When I told him that we charged $350 for body donation, he questioned the validity of our pricing and commented that our service in this case was nothing more than a glorified ambulance run. He then wished to speak to the owner. I handed the phone over to my employer—who immediately hit the speaker-phone button and instructed me to listen and learn.
His initial tone was pleasant as he explained to the caller that our price included the cost of having two men remove his mother’s body from the hospital, the use of the vehicle for transportation, and the secretarial expense needed to complete the necessary documentation. The caller then went into a bargaining mode and asked if we would perform the job for $200. Now steaming, my employer uttered the phrase that would become legendary among all of us for years to come: “Sir, why don’t you just shove a ham bone up your mom’s ass and let the dogs drag her away?” I was shocked, to say the least. The caller hung up in a huff, and my employer smiled and declared, “I hate price shoppers.” From that day forward, if any family ever mentioned that they were short on funds or were looking for our least expensive services, we would all grin at one another and, privately, say, “I suppose we should offer the ham-bone option.”
A few of my colleagues still take it personally when a client purchases an inexpensive casket. They see it as a blow to their professionalism. Some are even ashamed to pull a cheaper model out of the hearse, because cemetery personnel recognize quality, even at a distance. That’s one reason so many homes position cheaper caskets away from the display area’s entrance—they hope customers won’t even notice them.
I can relate to both views, to a point. Families will say, for example, “Dad was a simple man; he told us years ago not to waste good money on a casket,” or “Mom would come back and haunt us if we spent a lot of money on her funeral.” Those things are legitimate in most cases; however, sometimes siblings later tell me that their parents never said such a thing and that their brother or sister just wanted more of the parent’s estate.
I have also been in situations where survivors expressed horror at casket prices, demanded to see the least expensive ones, and then turned around and purchased a pricier one than intended because they liked how it looked. Or they chose an inexpensive option and then called back the next day to choose a costlier option because they feared that other family members might be upset.
Another former employer was arranging the funeral of a prominent physician and became enraged when the late doctor’s wife requested the simplest casket in stock. He angrily informed the woman that because such a high-profile funeral would inevitably draw a huge, well-heeled crowd, he could not allow her to embarrass herself by laying the good doctor to rest in a “cheapo.” The widow relented and selected a higher-priced model—but she told her children that they should call a different funeral home when her time came.
People who aren’t funeral directors should understand that we funeral directors, like all salespeople, feel a sense of pride and accomplishment when we hit a homerun, which for us means selling the most expensive casket on the floor. Just as in a real estate office or automobile showroom, the lucky seller is the envy of his peers.
A few of my colleagues have resorted to stretching the truth and even being downright misleading to avoid selling a cheap casket, especially for obese decedents, who require an oversize (and more expensive) casket. I have heard stories of families being told that the obese loved one can fit only into a certain (very pricey) oversize casket and that there is no alternative. I have also conducted many funerals for families who have been berated for their frugality by competing funeral homes. They come to me because I don’t engage in such astonishing trash
