It’s not that I look forward to my own death (except during pledging on PBS and emptying the dishwasher), but I am very pleased a new product has come onto the market because, boys and girls, I absolutely intend to purchase it.
Obviously, before I check out.
I speak of the “Bios Urn,” which, according to its website: “is a biodegradable urn made from coconut shell, compacted peat and cellulose, and inside it contains the seed of a tree. Once your remains have been placed into the urn, it can be planted, and then the seed germinates and begins to grow. You even have the choice to pick the type of plant you would like to become, depending on what kind of planting space you prefer.”
Now, I ask you, what could be cooler than this? I have no intention of being remembered in full funereal makeup, with my hair being coiffed better than it ever has looked while I was alive, and as long as my coffin would have to be, it would be such a burden for my friends and family as they try to come up with 18 or 19 folks to act as pallbearers.
No, I shall take full advantage of the Bios Urn, which is even better than my original idea of having my remains emptied into the manure spreader and being flung far and wide around the farm. I figure I start each day standing in horse, er, “apples,” so it seems sort of appropriate to end up the same way.
But what I like best about the Bios Urn is that, after a lifetime of contributing to the destruction of this glorious planet, our “fragile, island home,” simply by being alive and consuming plastic, petroleum and nuclear energy that has fouled both earth, sky and waters, I very much like the idea that I can make the small gesture of “giving back” to Mother Nature and become a tree! A tree that will create oxygen and a habitat for wildlife that is scrambling for any sort of environment as we develop more and more of their ’hood with each passing year.
I can even choose what kind of tree! Decisions, decisions! A tulip poplar? A mighty oak? Maple? Loblolly pine? Oh, the fun I shall have allowing birds to nest among my branches and sending drunken hunters in deer stands crashing to the ground. I will reach for the skies above and receive the kiss of the morning sun, shed my autumnal gown in October and come back, everlastingly, each spring. Oh, the nobility of it all!
Just think — you might walk right past me, deep in the woods, and not even realize it.
Or, knowing my luck, park a beer on my head should I be turned into an end table.