Does This Mean You'll See Me Naked? by Robert D. Webster Read Free Book Online Page A

than arsenic-based solutions, but best of all, it proved the best preservative ever conceived, the very one used almost exclusively today. After the Civil War, arterial embalming dwindled because of a lack of interest and the fact that so few were capable of performing the procedure. Dr. Holmes maintained his keen interest in embalming and began to develop, sell, and demonstrate his preservative fluid to undertakers around the country who would entertain the presentation. If Dr. Holmes had trained an undertaker, then the undertaker could refer to himself as an embalmer and could take advantage of the new preservation technique to garner new customers who were anxious for the opportunity to view their dead for a longer period of time and to actually schedule a funeral ceremony instead of hurriedly placing their loved one into the ground. In 1882, the Cincinnati College of Embalming (now the Cincinnati College of Mortuary Science) began operations with a precise emphasis on embalming.
    Today the embalming process buys time—enough time to hold a funeral visitation and service three or four days after a death. Embalming, however, is not forever. The procedure merely retards decomposition for a matter of days, or perhaps weeks. In time, the skin begins to leather and eventually assumes a grayish-brown tint, known among funeral directors as formaldehyde gray.
    HE LOOKS JUST LIKE HIMSELF
    Years ago I worked at a funeral home where comments concerning deceased appearances were universally negative. Rarely were congratulations expressed—much to the ongoing chagrin of my former employer. As the low man on the totem pole and an infrequent, inexperienced embalmer, my input was neither encouraged nor welcomed. But when the chief embalmer resigned, his duties fell to me, and a marked improvement began.
    My older brother had always stressed that people come to a funeral home to see a deceased loved one looking natural and well groomed. The smallest details, from buffed fingernails and hand placement to an impeccable knot in a gentleman’s necktie, are equally essential. That dedication to a dignified presentation has stuck with me to this day, and I have repeatedly stressed and ranted to my own sons that such devotion to duty is the only thing I will accept.
    In time, my former boss, who no longer felt the need to enter the preparation room at all, was duly impressed and delighted with the sudden satisfaction of his clientele. In those archaic times, he would greet the deceased’s family upon their arrival and then take full credit for the “good work,” as if he had performed everything in the prepping stage.
    My next stop on the employment road found me at a funeral home where the employees felt as I did—that the attractive appearance of the deceased, not the sale of an expensive casket, should be the ultimate goal. Although most funeral home visitors briefly admire the casket in which the decedent is reposing, as well as the spray of flowers adorning it and other bouquets blanketing the entire area, it can be difficult to distinguish one casket from another. The deceased loved one is the star. Rarely have I heard departing guests whisper, “Wow, Stan sure had a beautiful casket.” More likely they say, “Wow, Stan looked like he could get up and talk to you; they sure do good work here.”
    That good work unfortunately seems to be missing from today’s corporate-owned funeral homes. The company’s stock exchange performance and the general manager’s bonus expectations are far more important. One result is the purging of experienced embalmers and funeral directors in favor of kids fresh out of mortuary school who lack the proper seasoning but whose salary requirements meet bottom-line qualifications. As an elderly embalmer informed me many years ago, “It takes at least ten years to become a professional.” I share that adage with my sons on a daily basis.
    To present a