Instructions for My Funeral

In 36 years of meeting once every two weeks, each meeting with a particular theme, the Men’s Group I’m in has covered a lot of territory. In one meeting back in 2010, we all wrote “Instructions for our Funeral.” Yesterday, we took to the stage of the Memorial Service for our eldest, Bernie Weiner, to read his poem. (See Feb. 15 post Little Man Clapping for more about Bernie). Returning home, I searched for my poem from that meeting and actually found it. Here it is, with an addendum I added yesterday:

 

To start with, the music.

 

Lots of it and don’t hold back. Some suggestions:

 

1.    Ockeghem’s Requiem, for starters. I know it's obscure, but there's a story there.

 

2.    Some Bach somewhere—organ or piano. Maybe play my 8th grade record of Prelude and Fugue in D minor. If someone can find a turntable.

 

3.     Some Georgia-Sea Island style or spirituals group singing with a soulful leader. 

             But keep Jesus out of it. You can say Spirit instead.

 

4.     Somewhere there has to be some Bulgarian bagpipe. And then people will say, 

              “So THAT’S what it’s supposed to sound like!”

 

5.     Of course, some jazz. Get someone to sing Haunted Heart with a jazz trio. Maybe Tenderly and the crowd singing along on Over the Rainbow.

 

6.    If people are going to beat their breasts, might us well put it to a beat and get some body music going!

 

7.    Balinese gamelan optional. Samba or New Orleans style for the recessional. 

 

As for the people, invite all the kids and teachers I’ve taught.  Make everyone check their cell phones at the door.

               Encourage some copious weeping freely vented. 

No embarrassment. Let it rip. 

    No polite veneers or turn to your neighbor with a friendly handshake 

and forced smile.

    No crap about going to a better place to rest. 

Show some rage at the brutal hand of death.

The acceptance of its loving embrace can come later.

 

And of course, humor. 

Laugh, cry, they're kissin' cousins. Let ‘em both loose!! 

Fall into each other’s arms. Hug freely and sincerely. 

 

Eat well. Dance. Flirt.  Talk to me. Tell stories. All of them. 

(Well, maybe not all. Discretion will still have its place when I’m gone.)

 

Let it go on to the wee hours of the morning.

Don’t schedule other appointments, 

unless it’s the last night for the Misfits/ Some Like It Hot 

          double feature at the Castro Theater. 

          In which case, by all means go and eat popcorn on my behalf.

 

These some first thoughts. I’ll get back to you with the details.

 

Or not.

 

—Dec. 5, 2010

 

ADDENDUM: 2026

• If anyone arrives in a Waymo, do not let them in.

 

• If someone reads a eulogy created by Chatgpt, interrupt them immediately and 

    firmly, but gently, escort them off of the stage and out onto the street.