becoming funereal

This past weekend I had the chance to catch up with a number of friends from back in the way-back at the wedding of two people very close to my heart. Basically the crowd I went to high school with in the early 90’s were all there in force. Some have stayed in town and in touch, and others have moved away. But good people in life are always good people. Distance can’t alter good friendships.

Naturally, when you see a friend after a long spell of not being together you want to catch up. So a couple days ago, in my head, I pictured most, if not all of the conversations going something like this:

“Hey Peter, long time no see, how are you?”
“I’m great! How’s things with you?”
“Doing well, thanks. So man, what are you up to now?”
“Well, believe it or not, I’m going back to school in September”
“Really?! Wow, what for?”

Now at that point, at least in my mind, I’d been thinking long and hard about what I should say next. Do I just blurt out “I’m doing my pre-req work to enter the Mortuary Sciences Program at Malcom X”? Do I dodge the subject and pass it off as “Something in the health care industry”? There are dozen euphemisms and permutations I could offer to soften the blow.

But why soften it?

No, I’m not embarrassed or ashamed that I’m interested in working with the living to care for the dead. But I do think about how people will react. It isn’t every day that you meet someone who wants to work in the death industry.

When the time came to spill the beans, I decided it would be best to bare it all to the folks I’d been close with, and sort of zipper it up a bit in mixed company. Modulating what I had to say, and when, seemed the apropos because I knew I’d be meeting a lot of new folks. God forbid someone recently had a friend or relative pass. I wouldn’t want to dredge up any bad feelings.

The results were incredibly varied. Quite a few friends took a beat and then, in sort of a knowing way, flattered the hell out of me by saying “I think you’d be great at empathizing with people.” Of course, a few, possibly fueled by the delicious free-flowing libations, countered “What tehfcuk? Why would you do that? That’s sooo disgusting!” A natural reaction I suppose, but a few minutes of explaining my goals led to most folks replying “Well man, if you can do it, more power to you. I couldn’t. That’s nasty. But I understand.”

I don’t think those people have really faced a funeral yet. But they will. We all will.

A number of people I met are involved in various aspects of health care, and thus offered to make connections with people they thought I should meet. It seemed that many in the over 50 crowd knew a funeral director or two (not surprising) and encouraged me to chat with them. It was wonderful to openly talk with people who’d had experiences with the industry and really see the impact it can have.

One friend shared details about the passing of her father, and how comfortable she was with the staff. Another recounted how her family was deeply involved in the preparation of the body by both dressing and applying the makeup for her aunt. It seemed like so many people had good experiences, but knew very little about the industry.

Just like me.

In a cab on the way home I realized that if I do indeed become a licensed funeral director, I may be the only one my friends know. I may be the person they tell other friends/family/strangers about. One of them might even pass along my name someday and suggest that I’m able to offer some information about the industry.

Is it all really this word of mouth? Outside of a family connection to the business, I’m now extremely curious how various funeral directors come to the industry. I hope over the next year or so I can meet more people on the inside. And you better believe I want to how how other people react to their profession.

Since my last post I’ve been working on finding a school.  Considering I’m in my early 30’s and have a fortysomething hour a week job, full time classes just aren’t possible for me. I also haven’t been a credit-focused student in nearly 12 years.

A couple summers back I studied Mandarin at Truman in a Continuing Education class, and prior to that I studied Japanese under a private instructor 8+ hours w eek.  But fo’real classes, the kind that include homework, studying, final exams, mandatory attendance, etc., are a part of my very distant past.

Thankfully I live in Chicago.

Given that I can’t attend classes between 9ish and 5ish every day, the only college in the area that offers a Mortuary Sciences Program (does that sound ominous, or is it just me) is Malcom X College. Recently I registered for my very first class, “BIOLOGY 120 Medical Terminology”.

And with that, I’m a student again.

The registration process was sort of like exercising. You apply on one side of the building, wait for an admissions officer, walk all the way over to the other side to meet with an advisor, then walk nearly all the way back where you started to pay. Could be a form of crowd control to keep students from completely obliterating one side of the building, but since the halls were fairly empty it felt more like I was hiking across the great terrazzo plains of the Midwest.

My advisor, who only recently (I’m talking minutes) returned to work after a hiatus, thinks a nice chunk of my transcript will actually transfer. My English and Communications courses should be fine, but due to an experimental math course I took at UIC, there’s some question about that particular credit. If it doesn’t carry over, I’ll need to take a CLEP exam which will grant me credit for the course. *gasp* CLEP sounds like that dirty girls’ disease doesn’t it? J.J. got VD!

Just one class so far seems wise, but I’m going to have a long hard think about taking a lab on Sunday’s. There is an all-day course at Truman that will satisfy my Biology 121 requirement (which is absolutely a pre-req), but I’m a little wary of starting with 8 hours for my first semester back. A smallish 3 hours seems wise.

Another highly amusing prerequisite for The Mortuary Sciences Program (I wish I could hear Vincent Price reading that aloud) is “CIS 120 Introduction to Microcomputers”. Riddle me this; Who TF calls them ‘microcomputers’ anymore?

I’m a computer geek by trade. There ain’t nuthin’ in that 120 level course they could throw at me that I don’t already know, or could infer. Part of me secretly wants to glance at the text book to see the dated images of computers they are using. Here’s the verbatim course description:

Introduction to Microcomputers – Fundamental concepts of computer information systems as applied to microcomputers in business and personal use; includes hands-on experience with a variety of microcomputer software. Writing assignments, as appropriate to the discipline, are part of the course.

It makes me laugh to hear the word ‘microcomputer’ thrown around. There is indeed a CLEP for that particular course, and I plan to take that one as soon as I see what comes through on my transcript.

Outside of the above courses, I need “BUSINESS 258 Small Business”, and the remaining pre-req courses are all flavors of biology and anatomy, including the pre-med cadaver work (yay!) That means I’ll be playing with bodies before I actually enter The Mortuary Sciences Program (ooh, maybe a Don LaFontaine voiceover works?) from an anatomical perspective.

One particularly terrifying bit of information my advisor related to me. The 14-Month accelerated program, which is the evening classes and my goal to enter, is only offered if the demand is high enough. Not sure what the threshold is but I’m determined to find out.

Ain’t that a fly in the ointment.

Moral of the story here is that I need to make friends stat with the heads of The Mortuary Sciences Program (Eartha Kitt this time?) to keep me on their radar. For kicks, just in case things go a little astray, I’m also having them scan my transcript for Nursing credits. No no, I haven’t decided suddenly to become a nurse. Quite the contrary. But the pre-req work is so similar (one extra Chemistry needed) why not have a backup plan?

I wish I knew how to briefly explain the moment I decided to pursue a career as a funeral director.  It would be easier to point to reason X or cause Y and leave it at that.  It would also temper the immediate awkwardness when I tell someone I’m considering a career working with the living.

You read that right.  Working with the living.

My philosophy, based primarily on the experiences I’ve had in life thus far, has led me to believe that funerals are for the living, not the dead.  Before you protest, I must tell you that I fully believe the decedent is at the center of the funeral process.  Yet we all know that dead men do not grieve.

Death is the end of the final chapter.  My faith has gently guided me to believe there is something beyond the grave, but that conversation is neither here nor there.  What I can say, what I have felt, and what I fully believe, is that some form of a funeral is a necessary part of the grieving process.

Catharsis.  Closure.  The period at the end of the last sentence.   The finality of death is undeniable.  Anyone who has seen the deceased knows.  Death has a look, an unexplainable quality, an intangible physicality unlike any other aspect of human nature.  Facing that, in whatever way manageable, is the ultimate struggle with losing someone in your life.  No one can do it alone.

That’s where I want to work.

Today I live in a world of computer screens and numbers.  Each work day I find myself at a desk working for a large investment bank.  Now, my job allows me a very broad amount of financial freedom, and that is certainly a nice thing to have.  But for a long time I’ve been chasing interests outside of work to make up for the lack of…  satisfaction.

Satisfaction.  That’s the best word I have to describe what I’m missing at work.  Oh sure, the things I do make money for the bank and put money in my pocket, but am I doing anything good with my life?  How am I making a difference in the world?  What is it that keeps me interested in the work I’m doing today?

The answer to those questions?  Very little.  I’m not unhappy in my work, I’m unsatisfied.  And to quote a rather prophetic statement by my former roommate Nicole:

“You are the only one that can cook dinner for your soul.  Sometimes people can help, but you always do the cooking, nobody else.”

That has stuck with me throughout a good portion of my life.  It’s also an essential part of my nature;  When it is time to change, it is time for me to make changes.  I’ve been unsatisfied in my work for so long that I’ve been running myself ragged outside of work trying to find satisfaction.  Now it’s time to make some major changes and find that satisfaction.

Both of my parents are still alive and happily married.  I’ve heard friends say that there is life before a parent passes, and life after.  I won’t speculate on what will happen when the time comes for me, but having helped friends through that experience, the importance of the funeral process was crystal clear in all cases.

Counselor Troi is still, to date, my favorite Star Trek character (bear with me, this isn’t as tangential as it seems.)   Despite initially being the eye-candy of the series, she was one of the earliest characters in my own television history that I remember talking about empathy and empathic people.  I was ten and a half when Star Trek: The Next Generation began.  Whip-smart and as impressionable as you can be, I instantly recognized an odd parallel between Troi and me.

She could feel the emotions of others.  So could I.  Except it didn’t make me pass out or spontaneously cry.  At least, not regularly.

At the time I didn’t realize how observant I was.  Every nuance of a face can tell a story.  Every part of the body can give a clue to how a person feels.  There are so many subtle things about the way we carry ourselves that if you tune them in you can read most people like a book.   My pre-teen brain didn’t have enough information to describe it, so linking myself with Troi made sense.

As I grew up I found it easy to relate to just about anyone because of this little trick.  Not only that, I became intensely interested in meeting new people. Everyone had different ways of interacting and I enjoyed ‘learning’ them.  I’m certain there are volumes of psychological material  written about why I’m like this, but net-net, it doesn’t matter.  I like people, I like interacting with people, I’m good at it, and when my close friends need an emotional hand, I’m there for them.

My father owned a restaurant for many years.  I had the good fortune to work there, primarily seating people and working the cash register, when I was quite young all the way until I got a job on my own.  As the front man on a busy day, I was able to meet hundreds of people.  I learned how to read and communicate with practically anyone.  Years later I’d work on the radio, and so many of those same communication skills came to the front, it was a natural fit.

So how does a guy who likes people, has good communication skills, a good-but-unsatisfying career in computers, and over a dozen former sub-careers decide to become a funeral director?  To be honest, that’s what this blog is for.

No doubt it’ll get gruesome at times.  Maybe some of my posts will bother you.  If I can, pictures will be included wherever possible.  I’m still in the process of getting my bearings with school and the industry, so expect a lot of information about getting on the path before I actually start walking it.

Welcome to my life as I start becoming funereal.