Wednesday – Ashes to Ashes
Oct. 7th, 2009 01:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
.
.
It's been a long time since I dropped in to visit with the Angel of Death, who appears to me as a Carney operating the Ferris Wheel of Life and Death. I still pass him on my way to and from work every day, where I can see the Ferris Wheel at a Thin Place close to a stoplight that always seems to back up more than it should. I wave to him on most days, and if he's not too busy he waves back. But I've been derelict in my duties as a friend, so I thought I'd pay him a visit last night. Also, I wanted to see if he had any insight on my mixed feelings about the demise of my brother in law.
"I thought you'd done forgot about me, baby girl," the Carnie said amicably enough as I approached him.
"Nah. Things have been busy at the office, and by the time I drag myself out of there and back to my side of town I'm spent. You aren't the only one getting neglected lately. How's it going, Jim?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Same. Y'all thing the world changes so much during your piss-ant little life spans, but when you look at from where I'm standing, nothing much does. You all live awhile, then you die, and another one takes your place. I got to admit, though: the whole text-messaging-while-driving thing sends a little extra business my way. If y'all would start driving and texting while drunk, that would be even better. I still got a backlog to work through, you know. People pretty much count on growing old these days, living 70 or 80 or 90 years. Time was, a person your age was considered past her expiration date. Now you don't even call yourself middle aged."
"Nope, the baby boomers moved middle age back to 50. That makes me still in my prime."
He swore under his breath. "At this rate, unless one of them giant meteors strikes, I ain't never catching up." He looked pretty miserable, so I decided to change the subject.
"Say, did you see my brother-in-law, Pete, come this way a few days ago?"
"Red-headed fella' with a rope burn around his neck? Yeah, I saw him. Wasn't expecting him so soon. The man took some initiative to get to see me. Walked right up and shook my hand when he stepped off the Wheel."
I shuddered a little. "He wanted out of Boise pretty bad."
"No sh_t."
"I didn't like him much," I said, "Couldn't stand him. Jeff made me invite him to our wedding to make his mother happy, and I was so annoyed I could have spit. I was even more pissed when his girlfriend RSVPed back they would come."
"He was a character, all right," the Carney said with a grin.
"Well, I like my characters in books and movies, working to move the plot along and causing fictional conflict for other fictitious characters. I can do without real life characters causing real life conflict."
"He's done now. No more conflicts, right? You're free of him."
I shook my head, "Hardly. Despite how I felt about him, when I heard that Jeff and his other brother were going to let Pete be buried as a pauper, I was appalled. I guess I'm more Southern than I thought: it doesn't matter how we feel about our dead, we do right by them. You beg and borrow and steal if you have to, but you do right. When those two found out how much a cremation costs, they freaked. I mean, I got them a discount through my company, and they still were freaking."
"I'm just going to let the county take care of him and put him in Potter's Field," my remaining brother in law said.
"Potter's Field? Your own brother? You guys suck," I told my husband in amazement.
Turns out, it's not as easy to get someone buried as a pauper as you'd think. The local authorities make you sign a mile-high stack of paperwork and then seize all assets of the deceased, no matter how small, to reimburse the tax payers. Pete's property is so intertwined with his ex-girlfriend's that she raised a ruckus; there is simply no way to sell off his stuff without selling off her stuff, as well.
"So as much as I hated the guy, as much as I would have slammed the door in his face if he'd asked to come into my house, I’m paying to have him cremated and shipped to me via U.S. Mail."
The Carney laughed and lit a new cigarette. "That's what I like about people. Y'all get yourselves all worked up about the little things that don't matter a rat's ass in the long run: death, money, what people think. I've been watching y'all for more millennium than I can count, and you never fail to tickle me."
"Death and money and social standing matter a lot to us. These three things are intricately intertwined. Believe me, I work for a company that owns funeral homes. There are certain industries built around each of them, and I'm in an industry built around all of them."
The carney took a drag on his cigarette and narrowed his eyes at me, "Life matters more than death," he said, "You need just enough money to get by. You get too little, you can't live. You get too much, you get addicted to greed and lose sight of everything else. As for what people think doesn't matters, it doesn't matter as much as what you know to be true. What it boils down to is that if you can live with what you know, and you have enough money to live on, then you can start paying attention to what matters." He blew a smoke ring that rose like a gray halo into the air over his head.
"And what is that?" I asked.
"That," he said, "Is what you're here on earth to find out, Baby Girl. The whole point of your life is to figure out what matters, and not get distracted by all the red herrings that don't."
"I'm even more confused than I was before I came here," I said, "Thanks a lot."
"Any time," Jim said.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
It's been a long time since I dropped in to visit with the Angel of Death, who appears to me as a Carney operating the Ferris Wheel of Life and Death. I still pass him on my way to and from work every day, where I can see the Ferris Wheel at a Thin Place close to a stoplight that always seems to back up more than it should. I wave to him on most days, and if he's not too busy he waves back. But I've been derelict in my duties as a friend, so I thought I'd pay him a visit last night. Also, I wanted to see if he had any insight on my mixed feelings about the demise of my brother in law.
"I thought you'd done forgot about me, baby girl," the Carnie said amicably enough as I approached him.
"Nah. Things have been busy at the office, and by the time I drag myself out of there and back to my side of town I'm spent. You aren't the only one getting neglected lately. How's it going, Jim?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Same. Y'all thing the world changes so much during your piss-ant little life spans, but when you look at from where I'm standing, nothing much does. You all live awhile, then you die, and another one takes your place. I got to admit, though: the whole text-messaging-while-driving thing sends a little extra business my way. If y'all would start driving and texting while drunk, that would be even better. I still got a backlog to work through, you know. People pretty much count on growing old these days, living 70 or 80 or 90 years. Time was, a person your age was considered past her expiration date. Now you don't even call yourself middle aged."
"Nope, the baby boomers moved middle age back to 50. That makes me still in my prime."
He swore under his breath. "At this rate, unless one of them giant meteors strikes, I ain't never catching up." He looked pretty miserable, so I decided to change the subject.
"Say, did you see my brother-in-law, Pete, come this way a few days ago?"
"Red-headed fella' with a rope burn around his neck? Yeah, I saw him. Wasn't expecting him so soon. The man took some initiative to get to see me. Walked right up and shook my hand when he stepped off the Wheel."
I shuddered a little. "He wanted out of Boise pretty bad."
"No sh_t."
"I didn't like him much," I said, "Couldn't stand him. Jeff made me invite him to our wedding to make his mother happy, and I was so annoyed I could have spit. I was even more pissed when his girlfriend RSVPed back they would come."
"He was a character, all right," the Carney said with a grin.
"Well, I like my characters in books and movies, working to move the plot along and causing fictional conflict for other fictitious characters. I can do without real life characters causing real life conflict."
"He's done now. No more conflicts, right? You're free of him."
I shook my head, "Hardly. Despite how I felt about him, when I heard that Jeff and his other brother were going to let Pete be buried as a pauper, I was appalled. I guess I'm more Southern than I thought: it doesn't matter how we feel about our dead, we do right by them. You beg and borrow and steal if you have to, but you do right. When those two found out how much a cremation costs, they freaked. I mean, I got them a discount through my company, and they still were freaking."
"I'm just going to let the county take care of him and put him in Potter's Field," my remaining brother in law said.
"Potter's Field? Your own brother? You guys suck," I told my husband in amazement.
Turns out, it's not as easy to get someone buried as a pauper as you'd think. The local authorities make you sign a mile-high stack of paperwork and then seize all assets of the deceased, no matter how small, to reimburse the tax payers. Pete's property is so intertwined with his ex-girlfriend's that she raised a ruckus; there is simply no way to sell off his stuff without selling off her stuff, as well.
"So as much as I hated the guy, as much as I would have slammed the door in his face if he'd asked to come into my house, I’m paying to have him cremated and shipped to me via U.S. Mail."
The Carney laughed and lit a new cigarette. "That's what I like about people. Y'all get yourselves all worked up about the little things that don't matter a rat's ass in the long run: death, money, what people think. I've been watching y'all for more millennium than I can count, and you never fail to tickle me."
"Death and money and social standing matter a lot to us. These three things are intricately intertwined. Believe me, I work for a company that owns funeral homes. There are certain industries built around each of them, and I'm in an industry built around all of them."
The carney took a drag on his cigarette and narrowed his eyes at me, "Life matters more than death," he said, "You need just enough money to get by. You get too little, you can't live. You get too much, you get addicted to greed and lose sight of everything else. As for what people think doesn't matters, it doesn't matter as much as what you know to be true. What it boils down to is that if you can live with what you know, and you have enough money to live on, then you can start paying attention to what matters." He blew a smoke ring that rose like a gray halo into the air over his head.
"And what is that?" I asked.
"That," he said, "Is what you're here on earth to find out, Baby Girl. The whole point of your life is to figure out what matters, and not get distracted by all the red herrings that don't."
"I'm even more confused than I was before I came here," I said, "Thanks a lot."
"Any time," Jim said.
