All things considered, this is a very good line: “If people cry at my funeral, I don’t want it to be because flaming remnants of my body have landed in their eyes.”
Lots to think about here; thank you. Challenging to wake and engage with each new day as if it was July 4th when so many of them feel like July 5th. Still, though, the possibility offers hope.
Greetings from New Zealand! Last night, driving home from the first choir rehearsal of the new year, I caught sight of the golden harvest moon hanging low in the sky, and thought of you, how you’d be writing another lovely essay about this month’s moon. I wondered what you would call the full moon this month. I thought how summery the moon looked here, in a sky still pretty light, not long after sunset, and wondered what it would look like to you in the depths of the northern winter, and how odd that is when it’s the same moon. By the time I got home, fifteen or twenty minutes later, the moon was higher, smaller, and whiter, and I wondered about that clever transformation it achieves as it climbs up the sky. Before I drew the curtains, I saw the moon had strewn a silver trail across the harbour (the smaller one I live beside, Pauatahanui), in that careless, profligate way it has.
And now I am wondering about your health, and hoping it hasn’t taken a turn for the worse; hoping too that you don’t mind being thought about from the other side of the planet - where we go about upside-down, with our heads below our feet, just as Herodotus said.
You are a very funny man, Will Dowd. The subject of Death is a great well for humor. Humor or not, it is coming for everyone. Sooner, than later. I know your dad’s coworker the pyromaniac quite well. He and I also trained and worked together.
Keep it up Will! Your monthly dispatch is always waited on by me with great anticipation.
I love the moon and found your whole essay quite entertaining. I don’t think I’ll know how my remains will fare. I found out you can have your remains compressed into gems (giving the term “the family jewels” a whole new meaning).My daughter told me about this but also said they can make your ashes into a playable record and she thought she might like to be made into one with the song “staying alive” etched in it. I like the lunar idea but think it’s a ridiculous waste of money You could feed an entire village of famine stricken people for months so, well hell you’ll be dead and probably won’t know or care ..😊
We’re all gonna die, just not today. - Less a decade past, I was sure surviving another year unwinding a chronic condition unthinkable. Then from a raft of restarting I waved to friends years in the distance, thinking they seemed more settled than I remembered. None of this compared to the possible loss of my dog this December. 21 syringes of puréed oatmeal and baked salmon a day was the rocket I boarded until he could balance and walk. Though I still haven’t given thought to my closing hour, I know CoCo’s ashes will be compressed into a gemstone, many moons to go. I do admit, I have considered a brief haunt, at least in the first year of passing. I am the gatekeeper now, by order of birth, to a very old family grave in New Orleans though can’t imaging getting cozy in it.
We have yet to choose & purchase a headstone for my mother's grave (d. 2/6/22), for reasons that I can only surmise as being denial, denial, denial. Either way, death itself is a thing we deal with rather poorly in America & despite the debacle with unfavorable winds on that day of the fireworks display, I'd hope you'd push forward with your wish to have yourself propelled into oblivion on a burst of excitement and colour, only this time with a favorable wind direction prediction for the crowd on the ground ;)
As a person on a donkey to the finish line I enjoyed reading your essay. I'm 67 and death has consumed my thoughts. Not the death actually but what to do with my body. In Romeo and Juliet, Romeo want to cut up Juliet into tiny stars that would fill the night sky. That's what I want.
Thanks for this. Last Wolf moon I rushed to the hospital to say goodbye to my father - a stunning sky, clouds racing, wind turning the world in turmoil. It will be etched on my soul; The Wolf Moon and Pa x
Such a wonderful read, Will! Though I must say, dark as it is, if people cry at my funeral I think a part of me would kind of be ok if it were because flaming remnants of my body had landed in their eyes. No one’s going to forget that funeral.
This all means you need to hang around long enough for the technology to improve, and maybe the price to come down. Please.
All things considered, this is a very good line: “If people cry at my funeral, I don’t want it to be because flaming remnants of my body have landed in their eyes.”
Lots to think about here; thank you. Challenging to wake and engage with each new day as if it was July 4th when so many of them feel like July 5th. Still, though, the possibility offers hope.
Dear Will
Greetings from New Zealand! Last night, driving home from the first choir rehearsal of the new year, I caught sight of the golden harvest moon hanging low in the sky, and thought of you, how you’d be writing another lovely essay about this month’s moon. I wondered what you would call the full moon this month. I thought how summery the moon looked here, in a sky still pretty light, not long after sunset, and wondered what it would look like to you in the depths of the northern winter, and how odd that is when it’s the same moon. By the time I got home, fifteen or twenty minutes later, the moon was higher, smaller, and whiter, and I wondered about that clever transformation it achieves as it climbs up the sky. Before I drew the curtains, I saw the moon had strewn a silver trail across the harbour (the smaller one I live beside, Pauatahanui), in that careless, profligate way it has.
And now I am wondering about your health, and hoping it hasn’t taken a turn for the worse; hoping too that you don’t mind being thought about from the other side of the planet - where we go about upside-down, with our heads below our feet, just as Herodotus said.
Happy full moon, dear Will!
Anne
You are a very funny man, Will Dowd. The subject of Death is a great well for humor. Humor or not, it is coming for everyone. Sooner, than later. I know your dad’s coworker the pyromaniac quite well. He and I also trained and worked together.
Keep it up Will! Your monthly dispatch is always waited on by me with great anticipation.
When I'm dead and going to my grave
No costly tombstone will I have
Six highwaymen to carry me
Give them broadswords and sweet liberty
Six blooming maidens to bear my pall
Give them white garlands and ribbons all
And when I'm dead they may speak the truth
He was a wild and undaunted youth
Which makes me now to lament and say
Pity the fate of young felons all
Well a day, well a day
I love the moon and found your whole essay quite entertaining. I don’t think I’ll know how my remains will fare. I found out you can have your remains compressed into gems (giving the term “the family jewels” a whole new meaning).My daughter told me about this but also said they can make your ashes into a playable record and she thought she might like to be made into one with the song “staying alive” etched in it. I like the lunar idea but think it’s a ridiculous waste of money You could feed an entire village of famine stricken people for months so, well hell you’ll be dead and probably won’t know or care ..😊
Keep writing. You are good at it
This wasn’t what I expected it to be. I loved it! What a great piece!
We’re all gonna die, just not today. - Less a decade past, I was sure surviving another year unwinding a chronic condition unthinkable. Then from a raft of restarting I waved to friends years in the distance, thinking they seemed more settled than I remembered. None of this compared to the possible loss of my dog this December. 21 syringes of puréed oatmeal and baked salmon a day was the rocket I boarded until he could balance and walk. Though I still haven’t given thought to my closing hour, I know CoCo’s ashes will be compressed into a gemstone, many moons to go. I do admit, I have considered a brief haunt, at least in the first year of passing. I am the gatekeeper now, by order of birth, to a very old family grave in New Orleans though can’t imaging getting cozy in it.
I adored this month's full moon report. Beautiful, Will
What a beautiful & profound piece! ☄️
Nice!
We have yet to choose & purchase a headstone for my mother's grave (d. 2/6/22), for reasons that I can only surmise as being denial, denial, denial. Either way, death itself is a thing we deal with rather poorly in America & despite the debacle with unfavorable winds on that day of the fireworks display, I'd hope you'd push forward with your wish to have yourself propelled into oblivion on a burst of excitement and colour, only this time with a favorable wind direction prediction for the crowd on the ground ;)
As a person on a donkey to the finish line I enjoyed reading your essay. I'm 67 and death has consumed my thoughts. Not the death actually but what to do with my body. In Romeo and Juliet, Romeo want to cut up Juliet into tiny stars that would fill the night sky. That's what I want.
Thank you, I am, & I love it when new thoughts and access points are gifted. Thank you for your writing Will.
Thanks for this. Last Wolf moon I rushed to the hospital to say goodbye to my father - a stunning sky, clouds racing, wind turning the world in turmoil. It will be etched on my soul; The Wolf Moon and Pa x
Such a wonderful read, Will! Though I must say, dark as it is, if people cry at my funeral I think a part of me would kind of be ok if it were because flaming remnants of my body had landed in their eyes. No one’s going to forget that funeral.