Attitude of Doing Right

Lyrics: You’ve got to Ac-cent-uate the positive/ Eliminate the negative/ Latch on to the affirmative and/ Don’t mess with Mister In-between.

PANDEMONIUM just walked upon the scene. Back in August 1965 my parents paid $1278.54 for two cemetery plots. It was a cultural tradition at that time for full-body, coffin burials. Times changed and today many, if not most, people are choosing to be cremated and have their ashes scattered in places holding special meaning for them. My mother and father followed the trend and on at least two occasions mom expressed regrets that they had cemetery plots because she would rather their ashes be scattered together in the bay off their island home. And because they would only need one plot for the small box containing the ashes of both, they gave the second plot to my husband me. We could be neighbors. My brother and I had met with staff at the cemetery after mom died to check that everything was in order. It was. Or so we thought.

PANDEMONIUM! In making arrangements for a graveside service to bury the cremains, I was informed that there would be a $12,000.00 charge to bury the ashes of two people in one plot. Let me put it another way; if dad’s ashes were buried in one plot and mom’s ashes in the second plot, then there would be no additional charge. Mom and dad would, I think the appropriate expression is, turn over in their graves, at the thought of their kids paying twelve thousand dollars to bury their ashes. I could always give back the plot gifted to my husband and me as I too would prefer to have our ashes scattered.

My brother is justifiably angry. I, on the other hand, think the Universe is maybe granting wishes: mom and dad to have their ashes scattered in the bay next to their island home of twenty-eight years. The Rose Man’s ashes belong in Puget Sound where he loved to sail. I want some of my ashes scattered with his and the rest of mine in Coeur d’Alene where I was born.

I was told that the same cemetery plots now sell for $34,000 each. If we sold both plots we could charter a boat for the family to see our loved ones wishes carried out. Heck, for $68,000 we could charter the Queen Mary.

Lyrics: You’ve got to spread joy up to the maximum/ Bring gloom down to the minimum/ Have faith or pandemonium’s/ Liable to walk upon the scene. (Lyricist Johnny Mercer)

A PURPOSE MOMENT

Lyrics: PURPOSE from AVENUE Q. Purpose it’s that little flame/ That lights a fire under your ass/ Purpose it keeps you going strong/ Like a car with a full tank of gas.

Since my expressed desire to know my purpose came up at the Sage-ing Conference, I’ve been amazed to find that I’m in good company; that it’s almost an innate need of people and has health implications. There’s even a song written about it for the musical Avenue Q, an adult version of Sesame Street.

Richard J. Leider, author of The Power of Purpose, writes about “purpose moments” or “moments of meaning.” He gives as one example Rosa Parks refusal to give up her seat on a Montgomery city bus to a white passenger. “Purpose moments bring us face to face with the big questions, such as What am I meant to do here?” I recently had a purpose moment though not as life changing as that of Rosa Parks. It was near the end of our annual neighborhood Alley Party picnic on Labor Day. A sweet five year old with whom I’ve been privileged to form a relationship was holding on to her daddy’s leg and looking tired and unhappy. I motioned for her to come over to my chair and when she did, I asked if I could give her a hug. She simply melted into my shoulder and stayed there with my arm around her. That memory surfaced the next day in meditation and with it the realization that . . . I AM LIVING MY PURPOSE; it’s what I’m meant to do and be while I’m here on earth — taking care of the roses, giving hugs to tired little girls, writing a blog, listening, being.

Purpose is “reexamined at various points throughout the life cycle, typically during crises and major life transitions.” (Leider) Elders experience multiple crises and major life transitions usually in the form of losses. In just two years I’ve lost my spouse, my mother, and last month my precious Poppins. For thirteen years she took us on walks, barked at bugs (the hunting instincts of an English Springer Spaniel Field dog in an urban environment), met us at the door for a treat whenever we were leaving (she trained us well), slept on our laps, went AWOL down the alley to visit her old friend, Shoelace, made us laugh, and only once made me cry — when she died. The house feels very empty.

Lyrics: What will it be? Where will it be?/ My purpose in life us a mystery/ Gotta find my purpose/ Gotta find me. (Avenue Q — Jeff Marx and Robert Lopez, composers & lyricists.)