Stacy Horn

Years ago I saw a story on the news about all the ashes left unclaimed in funeral homes. It’s not unusual, it turns out, for people to leave behind the cremated remains of their relatives, which have been slowly accumulating in funeral home closets all across the country. I went out to the Bay Shore Funeral Home on Long Island to learn more about this, and they showed me their own closet-full of abandoned remains. The older remains were stored in small tin cans that looked like something you’d find in a grocery store, the newer ones were kept in plastic.

I was allowed to go through some of their older log books from the 1930s and 1940s. Once again it shows how lists can sometimes make for very compelling reading. I included some of the entries in my book, Waiting For My Cats to Die:

Handyman, aged 43, cause of death: general paralysis of the insane. No spouse or children. Mother unknown. Cost of funeral: $259.

Retired attendant at New York State Hospital, World War I veteran, aged 47, cause of death: gas poisoning suicide, no spouse, parents unknown. Cost of funeral: $419.

Housekeeper, aged 71, cause of death: exposure. She was found on the corner of 3rd Avenue and Cherry Street. Irish, widow, cost of funeral: $75.

Female torso, white, aged unknown, cause of death: unknown. [The newspaper said it was found on the ocean side at Camp Cheerful.] Cost of funeral: $30.

Eight people from the Hattie family died in one six-year period.

Hattie 1, aged 48, cardio vascular renal disease, cost of funeral: $75.
Hattie 2, aged 3 months, acute purulent pyelitis, cost of funeral: $25.
Hattie 3, aged 21, drowned, cost of funeral: $75.
Hattie 4, aged 1 month, intestinal obstruction, cost of funeral: $20.
Hattie 5, aged six months, tuberculosis, cost of funeral: $40.
Hattie 6, aged 1 hour, 37 minutes, prematurity, cost of funeral: $25.
Hattie 7, aged 1 hour, prematurity, cost of funeral: $15.
Hattie 8, aged 21, cardio vascular, cost of funeral: $75.

Housekeeper, negro, aged 34, and stillborn infant, cause of death: toxemia of pregnancy, contributory causes: dead fetus. [This was her seventh child.] They were both buried in the town plot. Cost of funeral: $75.

Laborer, World War I veteran, aged 42. In the death notice it says “heart attack,” in the funeral home records it says “syphilis.” The Veterans Bureau paid for him to be buried in the “colored section.” Cost of funeral: $100.

Clerk, aged 19, cause of death: gas poisoning, suicide. [An attached newspaper article says that although he had been in good spirits lately, he had been depressed about a heart condition he was left with as a result of rhematic fever from two years before. He was popular in high school where he graduated the previous June. He killed himself in September.] No cost is listed for his funeral.

Laborer, aged 40, cause of death: skull fracture caused by a train at the 3rd Avenue crossing. [The watchman yelled a warning, the newspaper account read, but he walked directly into the path of the train anyway.] Cost of funeral: $345.

Infant, aged 1 year, 10 months, cause of death: drowned in the Great South Bay by her mother who was found insane and committed to Pilgrim State Hospital. [Her husband said she was in a highly nervous state because the child had been born prematurely, the newspaper reads. She dressed herself and the baby in bathing suits, waded out waist deep and later told her husband that she lost the child. At her arraignment she asked three questions: Could she go home with her mother, what is the penalty for 1st degree murder, and could she see her baby.] Cost of funeral: $204.19.

Laborer, aged 29, cause of death: drowned while dumping snow from his highway truck into the Great South Bay. Cost of funeral: $360.

Black female laborer, cause of death: abscesses in peritoneal cavity, lungs, kidney and spleen, said to have followed induced abortion 29 days earlier. Cost of funeral: $557.

Infant girl, cause of death: monstrosity. Cost of funeral: $15.

So yeah, very morbid. I read every entry in the log books. It has to do with my obsession with the forgotten. It pains me to think of all the log books in every funeral home in America packed with entries about people no one thinks about or remembers anymore, and all the remains gathering dusts on shelves (although the funeral homes are allowed to dispose of them after a certain period). On a happier note, and maybe this transition will be a little too jarring, but here is a Christmas store window along Bleecker Street. I’m not entirely sure what those things stuck to the window are supposed to represent. Really big raindrops? I just loved how it looked.

I’m at the last stage of the book publishing process where you can still make changes, but only small changes. The publisher gives you a copy of all the final, laid out pages, and you can substitute words, fix the grammar and typos, reword sentences, but you can’t add anything substantial at this point. It would change the whole layout.

The problem is, I just learned about a new paper about dopamine, and it has a direct bearing on an important section. I did my best to sum it up in the fewest amount of words. I guess I’ll see how the publisher reacts!

I love seeing the final pages though. Your words, the very same words, look so much better and seem so much more … substantial, and meaningful, all nicely laid out.

Two views walking up 6th Avenue last night, on my way to my monthly MBSR meditation meeting. They make it seem like in a few steps I went from dusk to evening, but it was only a different setting on my camera. I use a Canon G9, and the first shot was taken with their “night snapshot” setting, and the second was the “automatic” setting.

I’m often tempted to post some of the Craiglist ads for writers. What the hell, maybe I should. Maybe I’ll make it an ongoing thing. Starting with this one.

I am looking for a female who can screen, write, respond to and set up telephone calls with potential dates from online dating websites. I am a busy Wall Street professional and don’t have time to do this myself.

The right person will be a good writer and have a passion for social media.

This job will be done off-premises using your own computer.

Part of me thinks, well, it is tedious going through all the ads. I’ll give him that. That said, I don’t see how you can shortcut it. How can someone else decide who is going to be appealing to you? The second part I don’t get at all. Someone else is going to write and respond to them for you?? Sorry, but oh god oh god would I not want to be one of the people being set up with you.

Bleeck, on his way to do something evil. Me, I’m still goofing off.

I have all this stuff I have to do, and yet, what have I done so far today? It started out okay. I left the apartment at 8:30am to go swimming. Very energetic and healthy of me! Then, I came back and got stuck in Twitter. Which led to:

Car accidents in Russia. I don’t understand where all these came from. Does everyone in Russia film themselves driving or something?

An interactive map of Mount St. Helens victims. I read them all. Really sad, although some of them were pretty stupid. I also felt bad for the dogs.

This Kickstarter campaign, which can’t be real, right?

Anyway, this is the smallest, smallest taste of how I have wasted the day so far.

Construction workers in front of the slowly disappearing St. Vincent’s hospital. Destruction must be the kinda fun part of construction work, I think.

I now have an Emergency Cupboard in addition to my Go Bag. This is for hunkering down. I wanted all my power outage supplies in one place so I don’t have to go searching around for them when the lights go out. As you can see, I’ve got my battery operated lantern, battery operated radio, (that’s the black thing on the right) a manual coffee press, candles, plastic and staples in case a window is blown out … hmmm. That’s it, it seems. I’ve got a flashlight closer by on a shelf, and one in my purse, and a drawer full of batteries.

Seems like I should need more stuff. What am I forgetting? Food yeah, but what else?