Quote Originally Posted by raisedbywolves View Post
I don't know, but if they don't come vote I am going to decide for them what happens with their body after they die.

Don't tell me this is too morbid of a subject peeps, you're on MDS!
I'm gonna bump this thread just because I'm a-scared of you!

Quote Originally Posted by raisedbywolves View Post
This is an interesting article about https://beside.media/village/a-death...=pocket-newtab

A Death Full of Life-If they?re not simply abandoned, they are accused of wastefulness and pollution: cemeteries have a hard life in our current times. And yet, they can play an essential role ? on both the environmental and human levels ? for those who are still living.
Interesting article. I've been a death hag since early childhood. I literally grew up in a small Catholic cemetery on a dead end road half a block from our house. There were four houses on our dirt road, and 17 children between the ages of toddler and 15 years. Over half of us were related. We called ourselves The Walnut Street Gang (in a Little Rascals kinda way, not in a Latin Kings kinda way) and we even had an annual "Miss Walnut Street Pageant!" They were different times, we played in that cemetery every single day of our formative years. Tag (the crucifix in the center of the cemetery was always "safe" of course!), hide and seek, huckle-buckle bean stalk, Marco Polo (great fun with headstones, ended with stitches more than once!), and my favorite - school. The older kids would pick a well-defined grave and adopt the name on the headstone as their teacher name (I preferred "Mrs. Christy" because the stone was very fancy and it was a big, family plot - ). The younger kids would be the students and we would teach lessons and change classes and send kids to the principals office (the crucifix again, naturally!). It was great fun and I have incredibly warm feelings about cemeteries in general, and that one in particular. My Mom still lives in that house, and every time we visit, I walk down to the cemetery every single day to stroll among the familiar stones. There are new ones too - my father, my first love, my neighborhood parents-by-proxy, people I went to school with, and several people who played in this cemetery with me when we thought our lives stretched endlessly in front of us. I recently had a ladies lunch with six of the old gang and the topic of the cemetery came up. I was shocked to learn that four of us visit it every day we are in town visiting our parents. So strong is the draw.

So yeah. When I die, my brain goes to a hospital in Massachusetts to be studied, any salvageable organs are up for grabs or study or teaching or whatever, and when they're all done with me, I want what's left to be buried in that little cemetery where I grew up - in a plain wooden box, but with a gi-NORMOUS Beetlejuice-style headstone that can be seen from the road!