To begin with, my arrival in Highland dress with a strange-looking instrument usually provides a welcome moment of levity. There are probably no piping jokes that I have not already heard. I recognize their value. Oscar Wilde had some superb quips about piping. Sometimes I share one that I remember. I have often exchanged a joke with formidable grown men wearing suits. They slap me on the back with a smile and offer me a glass of water or a stick of gum; later, they weep like little children as I play “Amazing Grace” alongside their dad’s casket. Human nature does not change. In the ancient world funerals were attended by professional mourners who loudly wailed to encourage others to release their own emotions. In Europe until the beginning of the 20^th Century, another important profession associated with funerals was that of the Mute. The Mute stood silently as a type of symbolic protector of the deceased; normally stationed near the door, wearing black clothing and a melancholy expression. My role as piper is an enduring part of that legacy: to dignify the service by standing silently; when called-upon, to give voice through the pipes to the grief that is felt, enabling the survivors to begin to let go.

There is an almost typical, recurring pattern to most memorials, like a script, but there are also those exceptional situations. I remember some beautiful services where doves were released, filling the blue sky with an explosion of white wings while I piped. I recall a particular service that was held outdoors at night. On that occasion I played “Amazing Grace” followed by the famous pipe march, “Scotland the Brave.” At the start of the march, over a hundred people individually released large white balloons which seemed to shimmer in the darkness, rising in a symbolic farewell. More challenging are sudden tragedies like the death of a child. One such day lingers in my memory. The parents leaned against each other as if piled in a heap next to the little coffin in the children’s section of the cemetery. The wind came up as I played. I felt objects knocking against my ankles and strained to look down for a moment as I kept playing. The wind was blowing toys from the other children’s graves around my feet, entangling me. It was so bizarre that I wondered after wards whether or not I could ever do another one. That was many years ago. My job, like that of the people I serve, is also to keep going and to let go. In all types of weather, you have to know how to set the reeds and maintain your instrument. You have to know things like how long to keep playing as the widow leans against her son after casting one last rose upon the casket now nestled in the open grave below. When I pipe for Jewish funerals I stroll behind the slow-moving hearse, playing as it courses a short distance to the grave from the cemetery chapel. The pipes truly belong to all cultures now. Much of the job of piping for funerals is standing patiently and waiting while loving tributes seem to flow like a never-ending stream. It is also my privilege to stand silently while the American flag is crisply folded for one more final presentation, on “behalf of a grateful nation.” Seeing tears does not make me happy, but I am pleased to think that my pipes are really singing well, that I am doing a good thing. At the end, I cradle the pipes in my arms and gently put them back in the case. I close it up, like a little casket that contains what I love so much along with my own memories of this passing moment, this final ‘Goodbye.’

By William W. Don Carlos

Our parents taught us early on to share.  Of course with five children, we had to share.  However, I mean a deeper type of sharing.  Occasionally a stranger would show up at the door asking for money.   My parents had little money, but they would give the person a few dollars and a good meal.  They would sit and listen to the story.  Sometimes they could help more, by finding a room for rent or a job to help get the person back on their feet.

That sharing became our way of life.  One of my brothers volunteers to help other fix their houses.  Another has the widest shoulders for people to cry on.  My sister was a story teller and loved to engage children in her whimsical imagination. The youngest brother has an open house to anyone who needs a roof for the night.  I volunteered as a Girl Scout leader, a tennis teacher and a recreation board member to help our local kids have constructive activities.

Our parents went one step further than any of us could go, yet.  They both donated their bodies to scientific research.  Our Father sent his body to Cleveland Clinic and Mom’s went to Emory School of Medicine.

One idea that we children had not considered was that the receiving institution did not charge for our parent’s transport to their facilities.

Do we miss having a grave site to visit on their birthdays?  No.  When we think of our parents we are proud that they continued to help others.  Do people criticize us on our choice?  Sometimes.  But then we feel sorry for those people, because they do not know how to look outside themselves.

As for myself, I have asked my children to donate all my useable parts or donate my physical remains to research.  There is a huge need for donated organs.  Mine are still working, so why not give someone else a better quality of life?  I won’t need my liver (etc.) any more.  This would be the ultimate way to share.

We don’t prefer traditional burial because of these high costs, but also because of the costs to the environment. According to reports, conventional caskets use up around 90,000 tons of metals every year, as well as 30 million feet of hardwood. Almost a million gallons of toxic embalming fluid is consumed to preserve the dead annually. Also, burial vaults make use of almost two million tons of reinforced concrete every year.

Because conventional burials hurt both the finances and the environment, there is a growing trend towards more environmentally friendly memorial choices and burial urns. This often involves burials in eco-cemeteries.

What Are Eco-Cemeteries?

Just like any cemetery, eco-cemeteries are places for burying the dead. There are, however, a number of differences that mark such cemeteries from other burial places. These differences are:

1. The body of the deceased is not preserved in toxic embalming fluid that contains formaldehyde. Also, the coffin or casket used is made from renewable or recyclable materials, or is simply wrapped in a shroud.

2. Family members dig the graves for their dead using shovels. The graves are not lined with concrete.

3. Instead of granite or manufactured stone markers, natural markers are used to set the grave apart from the others. It could be a tree planted by those left behind, or a natural stone with an engraving.

Why Eco-Cemeteries?

For many people, it makes more sense to bury their dead in eco-cemeteries. The most obvious advantage is that it is more cost-effective, given that the loved ones left behind no longer have to spend for an expensive casket and other funeral services.

Burial in these cemeteries can be looked at more natural and meaningful. You get to prepare for the final resting place of your deceased loved ones with your own hands. If you want a more cathartic release for your grief, nothing beats caring for your dead with your own hands.

Space is often not a problem in these green cemeteries. You can have your deceased loved ones side by side without any worries about space. Many of these environmentally friendly cemeteries also allow for pet burial.

Most importantly, when you turn to eco-cemeteries to bury your dead, you are giving back to the earth the life that the earth nourished and sustained. The minerals and nutrients stored in the body will decompose and enrich the soil in which it is buried. When you plant a tree as a marker for the grave, you help in sustaining more life on this earth that we live in for as long as the tree lives.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; so the Bible says. Our lives came from the ashes of this earth. When we bury our dead in eco-cemeteries, we allow their bodies to return to the ashes of the earth and continue the cycle of life of which death is a part. Is this not a more fitting way to honor our beloved dead?