Arrogance, Almost An Epitaph

There was this job review. There was this boss looking at me, saying it was obvious that I knew what I was doing, but I was really pissing my crew off. Oh by the way, two or thress of the guys on the crew could do my job. So instead of praise I got a warning, and instead of being thought an asset to the company, I got called arrogant. This was the first time something like this had ever happened to me, the first time that I had ever had that kind of exposure in the work world. And I got called arrogant. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! This absolutely crushed me. I had no idea I could ever be thought of that way. What a lesson, a hard, hard lesson.

Arrogance

You want attention,
Perhaps mine. You offer jokes.
I guess I should laugh
But I am far more
Than this, more elevated,
My nose in the air
So I can breathe my
Own pure essence as it is
Rather than common
Crowded aromas.

*****************************

We have been a cremation family from I don't know when. None of us ever saw the sense in making a big deal out of this dying thing. I can't remember what the grandparents did, so I guess I wasn't involved much, but we were poor coming out of the depression, both sides, so I doubt there was much money spent on things.

I like the idea of scattering ashes. When my mother died, we sent her back to Missouri. She went through the mail. That's normal, happens quite often. When my sister got the ashes, she said to the mailperson, "Oh, that's Mom!" A bit of a surprise. My mother was a minister emeritus for Unity School. She had received the Myrtle Filmore award for lifetime achievement. She was scattered in the rose garden at Unity Village, the headquarters of Unity, just outside Lees Summit, Missouri.

When my former wife died in Columbus Ohio, I asked her sister Betsy for a share of the ashes. Annie also went through the mail back to Oregon where her whole career as a Social Worker had taken place. I took those ashes to the beach in Newport, Oregon, where we were married. I took those ashes and scattered some on the property of the house we bought and lived in for eighteen years, sold now for many years. I scattered some for me under the dogwood on my property here. I also scattered some on the grave of her uncle and aunt up in the military cemetary, Willamette National, local to Portland. That location is a sacred site for me, and I go up there from time to time, can find that grave by memory among all the thousands there. There is a service shelter nearby that I will sit in to pray. Cemetaries do not creep me out. I also keep a small amount of her ashes with me in this house.

Almost An Epitaph

Graveyards are good for
Walking if you're still alive,
For lying about
If you're dead and gone,
If irreverent, skipping
Works for me as well.

In New Orleans, graveyards serve
For grand family picnics.

I hope for the flame
Turning me to tan ashes,
Gritty bits of bone,
Someone willing to scatter
All that's left into the sea.