P.S. - The top line is true. I work in a cemetary. Actually, it is a big corporation owns it, but they pay me fairly for what I do. The industry is still heavily regulated from its bitch-slap for greed in the 70's & 80'S. The paperwork sucks but it's a living.
In 1972 I left a salaried corporate job as an industrial engineer to follow my
genetic stamp and my heart. My last name means carpenter or builder in
Old English and it does in Scotland still today. For the next 34 years I built custom homes for customers and for the speculative market, and developed land into lots on which most of them would be built; all together about 109 residential lots and a little less than a hundred homes. Thats not a whole lot of houses for all those 34 years, less than 3 per year. But my crew, made up of young guys who wanted to learn the trade and I built them the hard way, one at a time, stick framing, never any trusses.
I tried to train them all to go out and do the same thing we were doing including the bidding and contracting, and arranging financing. Some became carpenters, remodelers, and builders on their own, and some left it entirely, seeing no future in it. Some would go to work for others as hourly employees and went on into sales of construction materials. I only took on what my crew and I could handle efficiently to produce the highest quality of work, never just subbed them out, and only started a new one when we got the last one substantially under control.
All in all during those 34 years I couldnt have had more fun doing anything other than what I did. Almost every day was a joy beyond what I felt entitled. There was a sense of accomplishment, even when only spent as a day planning or catching up on some of those days when weather prevented our working. But when the rain stopped I preferred climbing into a muddy ditch to muck it out rather than give that work to one of my guys. I would give them the inside-work to get done, depriving them of what I liked to call the really good stuff.
Since 2006, after a four month stint as an overseer of a crew of electricians on a commercial job which I found to be miserable work, I settled into working strictly by myself on small remodeling projects like room-additions, finishing basements, bath and kitchen re-does, retrofits, or repairs that people have a hard time getting done. And I can still always find some of my old employees to help me out in a pinch.
The recent flap over the financial sector has slowed some of my customers from going ahead, but they've already reconciled themselves to their paper losses so hopefully they will come around.
Joe, I've got an idea what you might do. My wife and I bought us a spot high up "on the heavenly level" in a mausoleum. They'll have to lift us up there with a 'real pretty' fork lift when the time comes I imagine. All the 'drawers' are accessed from a paved surface outside the building. I went there and paid for the final arrangements, and saw where we will be spending a lot of meaningless time one of these days. One thing about that type of interment; there are going to be extremes; some really cold days, and some really hot ones.
There's a Zen Sutra about death that goes like this:
the Buddhist Sutra of Mindfulness speaks about the meditation on the corps;
meditate on the decomposition of the body, how the body bloats and turns violet, how it is eaten by worms until only bits of blood and flesh still cling to the bones. Meditate up to the point where only white bones remain, which in turn are slowly worn away and turn into dust. Meditate like that, knowing that your own body will undergo the same process. Mediate on the corpse until you are calm and at peace, until your mind and heart are light and tranquil and a smile appears on your face. Thus, by overcoming revulsion and fear, life will be seen as infinitely precious, every second of it worth living.
Thich Nhat Hanh
