Being Prepared in Matters of Life and Death

            When I die, I want to be composted.  Undoubtedly, I will stink and begin to look disheveled briefly after my departure, so please cover me with corn husks and potato peels until I am in a more appealing state.  (i.e. dirt.)  When then time is right, put me in a terra cotta planter with an apple seed and a bit of water.  After I’ve outgrown my pot, plant me in a sunny, convenient spot. 

            This statement may be premature, since I have death scheduled into the “ripe old age” department of my daily planner, but I want to make my intentions clear because I find caskets to be the creepiest overpriced thing you could buy. 

            I got the idea for sending my corpse out with the moldy leftovers when I read Stiff by Mary Roach.  Though its title may leave you feeling flustered about the novel’s content, I assure you that this book gives an educated, thorough, and humorous account of human corpses throughout the ages and our persistent quandary of what to do with them.  Before reading this book, I tended to be squeamish about anything to do with blood and gore.  CSI Miami was my limit. I won't say that Roach made me want to sign up for medical school, but reading her novel made me feel more comfortable with the countless disgusting things that are occurring beneath my skin right now.  The book reads similarly to a Bryson novel, because it is a delectable parfait of historical fact and personal experience.  Roach does spend some up close and personal time with cadavers and gives some graphic descriptions of what happens to bodies after death.  Not only is this a thought-provoking summer read, it’s also a great book to leave on the coffee table as a conversation starter at a dinner party. 

            Although cadavers may seem like a morbid sort of conversation, mortality and death can usually spur some interesting and unexpected ideas from people who you think you know well.  My new favorite question to ask people is what their last meal would be.  A last meal is much more personal than a favorite meal.  A favorite meal might be spaghetti and meatballs.  A last meal requires more thought and questioning.  For example, do you want the last pasta you taste to be spaghetti or fettuccini?  Should there be peppers in the sauce?  Is there garlic bread on the side?  Do you want your dying breath to taste like garlic?  Calories no longer matter.  Neither do allergies or nutritional content.  A person’s last meal reveals something about him.  Whether he finds comfort in carbs, protein, or dairy.  Whether it is his mother’s banana bread or Wendy’s milkshakes that make him feel nostalgic.  It reveals his passions and weaknesses.  His fondest memories and his legacy.  As horribly simple and unmistakable as it is, we are what we eat. 

            My last meal would begin with a tall glass of ice water; 4 sliced cucumbers with Kraft Italian dressing; and red, seedless grapes.  The next course would be seafood Alfredo.  (Pasta would be mini shell shape.)  There would be shrimp, crab, scallops, and lobster meat, as well as zucchini, finely chopped broccoli, and carrots tossed with Alfredo sauce.  There would be a small handful of Parmesan cheese sprinkled on it.  My dessert would be key lime pie with graham cracker crust and a tuft of whipped cream on top.  There would also be a small square of dark chocolate on the side and a pina colada with coconut shavings.  I would also like a copy of the Kennebec Journal Life and Leisure section alongside my meal, with extra care that the Anne Lander’s column is included. 

            I’m curious to know what other people’s last meal would be and I encourage you to use the question whenever you find yourself in a boring or awkward conversation.  Push people to refine their answers and change their minds completely as they consider their options.  Inventing your last meal is one of the most delightful ways to ponder death.  I hope you will post your own last meal as a comment to this story and please look into Mary Roach’s novel, Stiff if you would like to continue to ponder your fate this summer.