It’s funny. After forty-eight years of marriage, Patsy and Martyn had decided upon cremation but they had never discussed what to do with the ashes. Currently, Martyn’s ashes were in a little urn sitting on the mantelpiece.
“I should really just throw them into the fire!” Patsy found herself talking to the ashes quite often. “Into the fire and be done with it!”
And then she would have a little weep and a little laugh and wondered, really, oh really! what she should do with them.
She thought of scattering them in the garden and growing plants. The thought of vegetables was disconcerting. It would be a rather round-about sort of cannibalism. Eventually she decided! She would go to the beach, wade into the water, and tip the ashes out into the ocean. That way, it was like an infinite dispersal. Free as an albatross! An eternal surge of life!
Patsy drove to the beach. She waded into the water. Just as she emptied the urn, a larger than usual wave knocked her over. The watery ashes splashed all over her dress; grey speckles clung to the fabric. She was drenched in her husband’s ashes.
Patsy drove home wet to the bone. She couldn’t stop laughing. After all these years, she thought, after all these years, the dress goes into the washing machine and the husband goes down the plughole!
To listen to the story being read click HERE!
Oh, this is a darn good one! Probably the water that goes down the plug hole will end in the ocean anyhow!
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Now that’s a profound thought. Let’s hope a dolphin doesn’t choke on it.
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Well now, Patsy’s troubles may not be over. Though cremains are called ashes, they’re not really like those in the fireplace, but pulverized bone—more like very coarse sand. Patsy’s plumbing is going to get clogged, unless most of the “ashes” fell off her dress by the sea. Then she’ll have to call a plumber to plumb her husband out of the pipes…..
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Oh! thou daughter of an undertaker! How frequently your expertise comes into play on this blog!! It’s what he always wanted: pipes at his funeral…
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LOL!! When I was six or seven, a parcel arrived by post one day–about the size to accommodate a soccer ball. I went to pick it up, out of curiosity, but my father swiftly got to it first.
“Know what this is is?” he asked as he shook it and I could hear something rattling inside. Of course I didn’t know. “It’s instant people,” he said. And that was that.
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😀 And that’s the bones of it!
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Just add water, and stir.
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Too much instant and you’ll be a nervous wreck.
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Isn’t it amazing the little bits and pieces learned in childhood that come back when required! I was amazed at how heavy a box of ashes is!
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Heavy? You had to load grandma into the car and take her ashes to every picnic?
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Would it not have been better to play cricket for them?
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LOL! You bowl me over – maiden that I am!
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Inadvertent cannibalism–I think it’s going to turn out to be one of the great themes of the 21th Century.
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You’re in for a roasting. Just remember you read it first here.
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You’re a trendsetter.
Please allow remains to simmer.
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Some deserve the slow cooker… – for an eternity.
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Simmer, stir occasionally…until the resurrection.
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A small eternity, followed by some sort of resurrection, then a glacial eternity–I really hate to have gristle in my stew.
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A new aphorism: You ARE the gristle in your stew.
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Salad Days musical: “For you are the sand in my eyes…”
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A neologism: stewed cannigristle.
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Throw another cannigristle on the BBQ…- an aphorism can be used many times and remain an aphorism. A neologism (like virginity) can be used but the once before losing its appellation.
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Throw another virgin on the BBQ and other aphoristic backyard party ideas (soon in paperback).
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I shall buy it!
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I love gristle… Tea for two; gristle in the stew…
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I heard it here first.
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There’s enough trouble in the world already without Cynthia Jobin and Prospero Dae doing some stirring.
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I do know first hand of similar outcomes 🙂 and this is a LOVELY story Bruce Have you turned over a new leaf for 2016? Oh be still my heart!
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A lot of my characters are dying for me to turn over a new leaf!
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Well, I’m always glad when someone writes on the difficulty of disposing of ashes. They simply do not do what you expect…
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They have (or rather had) a mind of their own.
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(sly chuckle)
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Hey, that happens more than you might think!
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🙂 I’m quite flushed! You mean the ashes follow the dead goldfish?
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Reminds me of the lady who wanted to release her husbands ashes in Puget Sound from a ferry. When told it was illegal, she just took the ashes to the bathroom and flushed him. He ended up where she wanted him to be.
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😀 Hence the State of Washington!
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All right! Every time I forget I am reading Mr Bruce Goodman you wake me up with a jolt! Beautiful as it can get.
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Thank you umashankar!
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My mother really does want her ashes to be thrown into her favorite ocean. When I’ve mentioned this, some folks say, “Well, I don’t want to be swimming in that ocean afterwards.” As if the ocean were an otherwise clean place. Now you’ve given me practical advice: time the toss.
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😀 Time the toss! and then WAVE farewell!
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