Silver clogs (becoming grim & depressing)
To the person who wanted info about those silver clogs – I almost forgot to answer your question!
They're made by an American company consisting of a couple of Swedish ex-pats now living in Colorado. You can get bronze on the American site, but the silver is only available in Sweden, here.
However! When I emailed to ask if I could get the silver ones from the U.S. Web site, they said no – but that they were going to be in Sweden this summer and would be happy to bring back a silver pair for me, with the understanding that it would be a special order and not returnable. They also mentioned that the high heeled version of their clogs tend to run a little narrow.
I don't know when their trip was going to be but the email exchange was around the same time I wrote about the clogs. You can email them at the address on the U.S. Web site. Good luck, and let me know if you get them!
In other news, yesterday was Tater's tenth birthday, I'm still feeling irritable and dissatisfied with just about every aspect of my life, and the funeral for that guy I knew who died was Saturday, and disturbing. The service was okay – it was the body that was disturbing. Things like that don't usually bother me but he looked so awful ... so awful that it made me want to call up the funeral home and ask them, "WTF?" Not to paint any upsetting pictures in anyone's mind, but man.
It really made me think some more about my attitude toward death, and whether I'm really as comfortable with the idea as I always like to think I am. If so, then why should I find it so alarming to see a dead person who looks so clearly and unapologetically DEAD?
Actually, I will go ahead and paint a disturbing picture, because I want to work this out of my system. So if things like this bother you, you'll probably want to stop reading now. No, really.
First of all, he was not in a casket, but lying on a low platform draped with white robes and sprinkled with marigolds and other flowers, in a vaguely "Eastern" style similar to what you might expect to see at the funeral of someone about to set sail on a flaming pyre down some mud-colored third-world river. I don't mean this disrespectfully; it was actually pretty cool, and beautiful in a way. Low-tech and low-cost, which I respect, and also very matter-of-fact – not trying to dress up the fact that he was dead by putting him in a fancy box (we also considered the possibility that they may not have had a box big enough). There was a big bowl of flowers that people could pick from to decorate the body, which I did by placing a few flowers at his feet – for the journey, and also because it was his feet I worried about, that made me realize he was dying.
The disturbing part – the first thing I noticed – was his face, which was heavily made up with this bizarre putty-colored pancake makeup. Maybe they were trying to match his tan, I don't know. But it was sloppily applied and a terrible, cruel color. His eyelashes were long and curly and looked real, the way I remembered them, but nothing else about his face seemed familiar.
Most distressing though were his arms. Remember how I said they used to sort of float out to the sides? Well. Because he was on a platform instead of in a box, the size of his body was ... apparent. And his arms, instead of lying on the platform next to him, or even spread out to the sides sort of like a snow angel (to accommodate his size) – were just kind of ... floating ... in the air ... about half-way up his body.
I can't even tell you how disconcerting this was. It made him seem restless and tense, not in peaceful repose – almost as if he were trying to sit up. I didn't say anything at the time, but today at work my friend who also knew him (we went to the service together) mentioned it, and she said her young teenage daughter – and the guy's daughter, who is her kid's best friend – were also completely freaked out by his arms, specifically. So much so that his daughter wouldn't even go all the way into the viewing room.
Why would the mortician arrange someone's arms that way? Or if they were somehow stuck in that position, why didn't they prop a little pillow under each arm to give him some support? A plain black zafu would have been perfect.
The most interesting question to me though is, why did that one particular detail bother me so much? "Peaceful repose" is only an illusion anyway. A person who's already dead is neither tense nor relaxed, and if his arms are stiff enough to stay elevated a foot above the surface he's lying on, he obviously doesn't need the support of a pillow, Buddhist or otherwise.
It's so strange to look at a person you've known, who is dead. I guess that's all it is. Usually, a dead person has been arranged to look as if they're still alive. In this case, that didn't happen. Or rather, it happened only about half-way. The makeup showed an effort to create some kind of effect ... and the arms seemed to show a kind of giving up.
Would I have felt better if they hadn't tried at all?
Maybe not. Maybe so. I've seen a dead person's skin before, before the makeup, before they're even sewn up ... when I worked at the mortuary as a teenager. It's not so hard to look at. But then again, probably not something most people really want as their last memory of the person they've come to say good-bye to.
Some people, I know, choose not to look at the body at all after death. They only want to remember the person as they were when they were alive.
It should be no surprise to anyone that I'm not one of those people. I always look. And usually, I find that the first glance is the hardest; the longer you look, the less upsetting it is – whatever "it" is.
Still. I don't like having this particular image in my head right now. It makes me sad to think of him stressed out and ill at ease, even after death. Although I suppose he's been cremated by now.
It also makes me feel a little more understanding of people who prefer to Not Look.
Anyway. Hopefully nobody will even read this far.
They're made by an American company consisting of a couple of Swedish ex-pats now living in Colorado. You can get bronze on the American site, but the silver is only available in Sweden, here.
However! When I emailed to ask if I could get the silver ones from the U.S. Web site, they said no – but that they were going to be in Sweden this summer and would be happy to bring back a silver pair for me, with the understanding that it would be a special order and not returnable. They also mentioned that the high heeled version of their clogs tend to run a little narrow.
I don't know when their trip was going to be but the email exchange was around the same time I wrote about the clogs. You can email them at the address on the U.S. Web site. Good luck, and let me know if you get them!
In other news, yesterday was Tater's tenth birthday, I'm still feeling irritable and dissatisfied with just about every aspect of my life, and the funeral for that guy I knew who died was Saturday, and disturbing. The service was okay – it was the body that was disturbing. Things like that don't usually bother me but he looked so awful ... so awful that it made me want to call up the funeral home and ask them, "WTF?" Not to paint any upsetting pictures in anyone's mind, but man.
It really made me think some more about my attitude toward death, and whether I'm really as comfortable with the idea as I always like to think I am. If so, then why should I find it so alarming to see a dead person who looks so clearly and unapologetically DEAD?
Actually, I will go ahead and paint a disturbing picture, because I want to work this out of my system. So if things like this bother you, you'll probably want to stop reading now. No, really.
First of all, he was not in a casket, but lying on a low platform draped with white robes and sprinkled with marigolds and other flowers, in a vaguely "Eastern" style similar to what you might expect to see at the funeral of someone about to set sail on a flaming pyre down some mud-colored third-world river. I don't mean this disrespectfully; it was actually pretty cool, and beautiful in a way. Low-tech and low-cost, which I respect, and also very matter-of-fact – not trying to dress up the fact that he was dead by putting him in a fancy box (we also considered the possibility that they may not have had a box big enough). There was a big bowl of flowers that people could pick from to decorate the body, which I did by placing a few flowers at his feet – for the journey, and also because it was his feet I worried about, that made me realize he was dying.
The disturbing part – the first thing I noticed – was his face, which was heavily made up with this bizarre putty-colored pancake makeup. Maybe they were trying to match his tan, I don't know. But it was sloppily applied and a terrible, cruel color. His eyelashes were long and curly and looked real, the way I remembered them, but nothing else about his face seemed familiar.
Most distressing though were his arms. Remember how I said they used to sort of float out to the sides? Well. Because he was on a platform instead of in a box, the size of his body was ... apparent. And his arms, instead of lying on the platform next to him, or even spread out to the sides sort of like a snow angel (to accommodate his size) – were just kind of ... floating ... in the air ... about half-way up his body.
I can't even tell you how disconcerting this was. It made him seem restless and tense, not in peaceful repose – almost as if he were trying to sit up. I didn't say anything at the time, but today at work my friend who also knew him (we went to the service together) mentioned it, and she said her young teenage daughter – and the guy's daughter, who is her kid's best friend – were also completely freaked out by his arms, specifically. So much so that his daughter wouldn't even go all the way into the viewing room.
Why would the mortician arrange someone's arms that way? Or if they were somehow stuck in that position, why didn't they prop a little pillow under each arm to give him some support? A plain black zafu would have been perfect.
The most interesting question to me though is, why did that one particular detail bother me so much? "Peaceful repose" is only an illusion anyway. A person who's already dead is neither tense nor relaxed, and if his arms are stiff enough to stay elevated a foot above the surface he's lying on, he obviously doesn't need the support of a pillow, Buddhist or otherwise.
It's so strange to look at a person you've known, who is dead. I guess that's all it is. Usually, a dead person has been arranged to look as if they're still alive. In this case, that didn't happen. Or rather, it happened only about half-way. The makeup showed an effort to create some kind of effect ... and the arms seemed to show a kind of giving up.
Would I have felt better if they hadn't tried at all?
Maybe not. Maybe so. I've seen a dead person's skin before, before the makeup, before they're even sewn up ... when I worked at the mortuary as a teenager. It's not so hard to look at. But then again, probably not something most people really want as their last memory of the person they've come to say good-bye to.
Some people, I know, choose not to look at the body at all after death. They only want to remember the person as they were when they were alive.
It should be no surprise to anyone that I'm not one of those people. I always look. And usually, I find that the first glance is the hardest; the longer you look, the less upsetting it is – whatever "it" is.
Still. I don't like having this particular image in my head right now. It makes me sad to think of him stressed out and ill at ease, even after death. Although I suppose he's been cremated by now.
It also makes me feel a little more understanding of people who prefer to Not Look.
Anyway. Hopefully nobody will even read this far.
3 Comments:
Really, they should have done something about his arms. I remember when I went to help dress Craig's Grandma Ann for her viewing and funeral (long story), and her arms were not in the typical 'hands folded on top of their stomach.' One was lying by her side and the other was on her lower stomach. The mortician (who'd gone to high school with my mother-in-law, very nice man) was very apologetic about it, saying her hands weren't positioned properly after she died (at home), and to move them at that point they'd have to break her arms (!).
Whoever laid out this man should have noticed his arms and done SOMEthing - pillows, etc., as you suggested. To have him shown like that seems neglectful and, really, almost disrespectful, in my opinion. So sad for his daughter to have that last memory of her dad.
hi tina,
thanks for the update about the clogs.
feels like a wierd transition to go from that to talking about the odd positioning of a dead body... but i agree, someone just wasn't thinking when they laid him out that way.
i wonder how his daughter is coping with the loss of her dad.
You know what? Closed casket. Period. Always.
I am one of those people who prefer not to look. I've only been to one open casket funeral (one of my uncles) and he was made up to look like Raggedy Andy with these freakin' hot-pink spots of rouge on his cheeks. It was upsetting.
****
Sorry to read that you are feeling irritable and dissatisfied about your life. : (
P.S. I am sending something out to you this weekend--it's not chocolate--but I think it's something you'll like (and it won't make your blood sugar go haywire).
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