I have always been fascinated by old-fashioned customs pertaining to death, funerals, burial, etc. Would like to hear your stories!

-- Shannon at Grateful Acres Animal Sanctuary (gratacres@aol.com), February 04, 2001

Answers

I can't tell you a lot about the subject, but do know that my grandmother helped prepare bodies for burial. I recall that the body was bathed, probably via what we think of as a sponge bath.

The deceased was "laid out" in the parlor of the home they lived in, and a vigil by family and or neighbors was kept until burial. I recall being told of one such vigil where folks got a real scare. It was long about midnight, it was warm so doors were open. Suddenly one of the doors slammed shut. There wasn't a breathe of breeze out, so it always left folk wondering about the door shutting so hard and why it shut.

My grandmother was born in 1872 and came to Kansas in 1886, so it was after that time frame.

-- Notforprint (Not@thekeyboard.com), February 04, 2001.

Well, this is a subject that really touches my heart. We had to say goodbye to a good friend's daughter last May. It was 1 day after her 11th birthday. We knew that her little body couldn't fight anymore and they had made the decision to take her off life support, she no longer had any brain function. She had been on one of those oscilater things and she was so ready to go. Everyone stood around her bed(we had special permission from intensive care) there must have been about 30 people there. She was welcomed into heaven hearing her friends and family singing hymns and holding each other up around her hospital bed. When one voice would falter another would be strong. What a beautiful way to go. She was finally at peace! We sure miss her! Glad that I will get to see her again someday. She was buried in a little country cemetary with about 300 people gathered around. They placed her favorite possession over the coffin....a quilt that I had made her when she first got sick. It really touched my heart to see that quilt and know that she loved that thing. The quilt is now over the back of their couch and they can all hold it when they need comfort. It kinda gets me whenever I see it.....but it is such a wonderful feeling to be loved like that!

-- Nan (davidl41@ipa.net), February 04, 2001.

Some of the old Foxfire books have a good deal about old time burials.

People used to wash the body of the dead with a sponge bath, then dress them in their best clothes. They were then laid out until a coffin could be made or obtained. Sometimes they were laid out on a bed, sometimes planks set on chairs, and sometimes on the dining table. The coffin was generally made by neighbors, friends, and/or family members if the family didn't have the money to buy a coffin. My grandmother was born in 1888, and she said her parents always tried to keep back some good boards and a few yards of grey fabric to make and line a coffin with. She said her daddy would often build a coffin for someone, then her mother would take cotton batting and cut it to line the box. Someone would help her and they would then hold the fabric and cotton both to the sides of the box and tack it into place. When the lid was placed over the body for burial, the lid was nailed in place. Someone would stay up with the body from the time of death until the time of burial. People would come in and stay with the family to help with chores, cooking, etc. People would also bring in cooked food and supplies (coffee, etc.) to help feed those who came to stay and attend the funeral. Sometimes a photographer would be called in to make a picture of the deceased. There is a tin type picture here made of my great-grandmother's little sister Notie who died when she was 10, about 1880. They were poor people and had never had the money to have any pictures made, so the neighbors got together and pooled their money to have a picture of Notie made as a comfort to her mother. This may seem strange now, but then, it was a blessing to her family to have something left of her.

-- Green (ratdogs10@yahoo.com), February 04, 2001.

I've heard that the "living room" came to be called such because it was the room where family & friends gathered while the body was laid out in the parlor. It was the "living" room, as opposed to the "dead" room (?) where the body was. Anybody else ever heard of this? Also, while driving in the country, I have seen several farmsteads with small, fenced cemetaries right in the yard. Looked to have just a few headstones each, like it was just family. They looked old, too. Bet they don't allow that anymore, do they?

-- Shannon at Grateful Acres Animal Sanctuary (gratacres@aol.com), February 04, 2001.

When my mom and dad met, he was Catholic and she, a United Babtist from SE KY. Us kids were raised Catholic, so were never around my moms' old church. Her Dad was an elder with the church. When he died, they had the coffin in his house the night before the burial. Alot of the church members came and went. I remember one old guy that was really preaching or something. He would take deep breaths in between the sentences and it was really loud. Kinda reminded me of an autioneer! Well, it scared the crap out of me! The next day at the old country church, at the funeral, there was alot of wailing and crying. At the end of the service, everyone walked by the coffin and kissed my Grandad goodbye. I remember later feeling bad that I didn't. I was only about 12 or so, and I had never seen anything like this at the Catholic Church! Not your free for all kind of place. I'm really glad now though, that I got to see my moms' peoples traditions, and I'll never forget my Gandads' sister singing Amazing Grace in that small church. No music, just her old Southern voice. It was beautiful.

-- Annie (mistletoe@earthlink.net), February 04, 2001.

I have two stories to share. One was told by my dad and probably happened in the 1920's or 30's. He had a truck and sometimes delivered stuff for people to make a few extra bucks. Well, he somehow got involved in taking a casket to the undertaker and then helping open and close the grave. So the two men had to wait for the graveside service. In his words:" Warn't but a handful of mourners, just a few old ladies that went to every funeral whether they knowed them or not. We went to lower the casket and found they had put in too small a vault. So the other guy said we should just wait until the old ladies had gone. When they left, hejust pushed in the sides as it was made of thin wood, and squeezed it into the vault. Didn't matter. Warn't nothing but a pauper." Well, I found _that_ a strange attitude, that what you did to a pauper didn't matter. It was strange he put it that way because he never seemed to have prejudice against those who were down and out, and had very little himself.

Will continue my other story on a seperate page, this is getting too long. Cora-Vee

-- Cora-Vee Caswell (coravee@locl.net), February 04, 2001.

I had what i considered to be the best of both worlds, an aristocratic Boston half (puleeze pass the buhta), and a down-home Oklahoma farm half...(they were not together long!)...my Grandfather's funeral in Boston was a real 3 day affair, complete with guys smoking cigars in the back room and telling bawdy stories..Grandpa was laid out in a funeral home, but my family hung a large black wreath on our door so neighbors and passerbys would know there had been a death..strange men going down the street would take their hats off when they saw the wreath.My Grandmother, a feisty little thing who never could forget the "Great Depression" tore the crucifix right off the coffin at the cemetary because "What a waste to bury it"..it hung for years in our foyer! In Oklahoma, as a little girl of 6, I attended my other Grandmothers' funeral, and was given a tamborine to take to the cemetary...there were all the aunts and uncles and cousins singing "Shall we Gather at the River", smiling, laughing and encouraging me to bang that tambourine because Grandma was in Heaven and we should rejoice for her and have hope for ourselves... I was non-plussed! When my Father died, we went to the funeral in Colleyville,Texas. I was astounded at the custom that all four lanes of traffic on the interstate came to a stop for the funeral procession, AND folks got out of their cars, men took off their hats, etc...WOW! Now that we live in Alabama, I've seen the cars stop as well, all four lanes!!!! Cool.

-- Lesley (martchas@bellsouth.net), February 04, 2001.

Hi Lesley, people still stop around here too. My hubby who is from a big city, said "why do they stop, the people are dead and don't know?" sigh. Here we go again. I told him it's out of respect for the one who had passed and the family who were on the way to bury their loved one. He stops now!

-- Annie (mistletoe@earthlink.net), February 04, 2001.

Now the funny story about cremation, also one a little sad. Sad that here we have to pay for opening the grave if you _with their permission_ lift a shovelfull of earth on the surface of the grave to put on someone's ashes, as my in-laws found out. You pay the full opening and closing fee just to have the sexton stand and watch.

Now the funny one. My dear best friend moved back to her girlhood home in Tennesee from here in northern IN. She regarded us as her parents as we had helped her get her life back together. We maintained colse contact, almost daily. Then she developed cancer. She had several setbacks, and a lot of progress, then hardly more than a week after our last visit to TN, she colapsed and was put on life support. I hurried back to wait with her 3 daughters and her husband and innumerable relatives who appeared out of nowhere and all tried to tell everybody what to do. It seems she had decided ahead to be cremated and had told family and doctor. Now begins the funny part, and remember I'm seeing this with regional prejudice, we just don't do thing like this in my little neighborhood.

After a beautiful ushering in to heaven as we prayed and they turned off the life support, reality hit. There was only one undertaker in town that handled cremations. We were glad it wasn't the one next to the hospital grounds.(His funeral parlor was a beat up ranch style house.) Mr. X arived before we left the hospital and suggested we meet at his establishment in an hour. He also started telling us about the teddy bears at only $45. we could have cremated with her, then we could each buy one and have it to remember her by. Well, we dashed around to meet him and listened to more of the same. When he sau it was a no go, he switched to the $300 urns. not really very pretty ones at that. Then I got a surprise. It seems Darlene had told them they either had to scatter her ashes or divide them 4 ways, between her daughters and husband. But they had talked it over (They usually scrap about everything) and had decided she should be divided 5 ways, that I might have a share! I was touched by their love, even while part of me wondered what on earth I would do with her! Well, after realizing he would never sell us $1500 worth of urns, and that the family didn't even want to use his his lovely room for the service, he gave to price just for the cremation and his handling. We were to find our own urns. It runs in my mind it was about $3500. We were shocked, but the family started figuring how they could make payments. The girls are all young marrieds with kids, and factory jobs only pay about $5. and hour there. Mr. X began to chat a little with them, asking about their jobs and kids, etc. He then said if we could raise $250 cash he would mark it paid. With a little difficulty we did, and he did.

Now have you ever shopped for a container to put 1/5 of a human's ashes in? We were to bring our containers and strong plastic bags to him at an appointed time and he would divide the ashes. We talked over, estimated what size the containers must be, and went in groups of two or three for two days looking. We got so silly over it, I mean do you explain to the clerk what you want it for, or not? We got pretty silly over iced tea glasses, beach bage, and other appropriate/inappropriate containers. We threatened all kinds of things. Finally I ended up with a wooden cegar chest, the girls got matching dainty silver-look oval chests, and her husband ended up with --a cookie jar!

So we hurried to the appointed place, only to find Mr X was gone, and there was a viewing being taken care of by his deaf father and his wife, We couldn't make the deaf father understand what we needed, and the wife couldn't do it as she couldn't leave the viewing long enough to divide the ashes. So Darlenels pastor and wife and I took a styrofoam cup and I divided it as evenly as possible, a cup for you, a cup for me, etc. I never in all my well regulated life expected to be doing anything like that!

We have each kept our share, with the agreement that none will privately scatter or bury their part. There was the most lovely memorial service down by a swimming hole in a creek way back in a "holler". There was music and two sermons, and loads of food, then all the kids got in a water fight while the adults visited. She would have loved it.

Now one part is in Michigan, 3 parts in TN, and one right here to remind me that if blood is thicker than water, the love of a true friend is the strongest bond of all.

-- Cora-Vee Caswell (coravee@locl.net), February 04, 2001.

Up on the hill, behind our farm, there is a very small cemetary. I think the original builder of our home is buried there with relatives. It is the most peaceful place to sit. In fact, I would like to have my ashes sprinkled there.

-- Ardie from WI (a6203@hotmail.com), February 04, 2001.

Cora-Vee, Thanks for the laugh! It's good to keep a sense of humor. You certainly couldn't have taken that too seriously! I will be thinking about that when I add my ashes to the compost pile.

-- Nan (davidl41@ipa.net), February 04, 2001.

OOPS! I read back over that and I meant the wood ashes, not mine!

-- Nan (davidl41@ipa.net), February 04, 2001.

In Arkansas you can still set aside land for a cemetary. It must be one acre or more and you must allow others to be buried their also, so it might not just be a "family" cemetary.

My mom died two years ago and while I miss her greatly I know she's in heaven and I will see her once again, so in my family we don't have a lot of weeping and mourning. In fact she wanted to be cremated so we called the funeral home the morning she died and they came and got the body, after the coroner pronounced her, and they took her to the crematorium. I didn't know how long it would take so I wasn't expecting her ashes when I went to the post office about 4 days later. Tom, our postmaster, came to the counter with a "long face" and placed this box in front of me, as I said I wasn't expecting a package, and I said "what is this?" as I was trying to read the return address, Tom was trying to tell me in a kind way and I blurted out "OH!, it's my Mom! Boy she made a quick trip!" He looked at me like I had pulled a gun on him. I just wasn't sufficiently sorrowful enough! "She's" still in the dresser drawer in my sewing room because we have not been able to make a trip back to where she wants her ashes sprinkled. I used to tease her all the time[while she was living] and tell her I was going to keep her ashes in a dresser drawer and when I got to missing her or wanted to ask her a question I would just bang on that box and say "hey mom". She always said "you better not do that" so I'm beginning to feel a little guilty that it has taken us so long to get back to Alta Loma. Artie Ann

-- Artie Ann Karns (rokarns@arkansas.net), February 04, 2001.

Cora Vee- Loved your story. I've a story of my own to share. We had an aunt that was always late to every family gathering that I can remember, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Birthdays, you name it. We use to tell her she'd be late for her own funeral. Well Aunt Scoot died last Feb, very unexpectedly and in the middle of a rare snow storm for NE Tex. When we got to the church the electricity went out before the service started. We waited an hour before it came back on and could begin. By the time we got to the cemetary it had snow so much the tent had collasped and we had to wait for the funeral home attendants to clear it away. It took about four hours to get the funeral done. True to form she managed to be late to her own burial. I say this lovingly, I'm very fond of this aunt. A funeral in our family is kinda like a family reunion. We visit, laugh, joke and tell funny stories about the departed. And of course, there's the big meal, which we had to wait on all evening just like when Aunt Scoot was alive and Granny insisted everyone be present before we began.....Jackie

-- Jackie NE TX (jlynne@neato.com), February 04, 2001.

I've been on both the giving and receiving end of the respectful stop by the side of the road for a funeral procession. We were on our way to the cemetery to bury my favorite Uncle Raymond and I'll never forget the little old man standing right by the road, lawnmower behind him and hat over his heart. It didn't matter that he was dressed in a sweaty white undershirt and dirty tan work pants or that his hair was all askew ~ he looked so stoic and handsome standing there. That small gesture touched me so much! I knew then just how it felt. Since then I've never passed a funeral procession without stopping and getting out, head bowed in respect.

Here's my funny story: My sister, bro-in-law and I were discussing what we wanted done with ourselves after we died. I told them that I wanted to be cremated and spread somewhere out here, maybe down by the spring-fed Little Cypress Creek. Bro-in-law said, "I know! We'll dig a hole at the foot of one of those cypress trees to put your ashes in and put a plaque on it that says 'Here lies Linda Wall. She said, "Screw daisies, I want to push up a cypress!"'"

But after reading Nan's post I think I want them to chunk me in the compost heap instead!!

-- Wingnut (wingnut@moment.net), February 05, 2001.

Funerals are wild cards in our family. Everyone is different. Count on at least one fight a day sometimes with a few slaps or pushes. Not as bad as it sounds - really clears the air. There will be threats and hard words about everything from where to bury the person to what kind of headstone to order and the way down to who is going to sit where at the service. We used to sit up at the funeral home all night, but know funeral homes like to close at 10. We have visitation for at least 2-3 days. Friends and neighbors bring a lot of food. All my sisters and I get together and catch up and try on each others shoes. Strange I know, but kind of a tradition. We all have nearly the same shoe size and grew up swapping shoes. By the time all the fussing, fighting, and shoe swapping is over, we are all in a pretty good mood. We usually end up trading children if it's summer. Little bit trashy, but it works for us.

-- Linda Al-Sangar (alsangal@brentwood-tn.org), February 06, 2001.

The house we're renovating has a very large window in the living room. The purpose of the window was for viewing bodies of the family that lived there when it was their time. Sure would be a lot cheaper that way.

-- Cindy (SE In) (atilrthehony_1@yahoo.com), February 10, 2001.

This isn't really about old time funerals but might bring a ray of sunshine to this sad subject. My daughter and her cousin Rick were 4 years old at the time of Great Aunt Mag's death. They begged to be allowed to sit together at the viewing in the funeral home. Just when all conversation died down I heard Rick say, "Did you see that, she moved just a very little bit" I noticed that I wasn't the only one who couldn't keep from laughing. After that statement, they both sat very quietly for the rest of the viewing.

-- Betty Shaw (perkbj@tusco.net), February 10, 2001.