Ericka's brother, sister, and I met with the funeral home today, but have not chosen the receptacle(s) yet (we will NOT go with a coffee can from Ralph's).
Since I was there as a talking head on J's phone, I might as well bust out this fun fact that I like to share with my students:
Imagine you’re an undertaker working in Kansas City in the late 19th century. You’re one of just two undertakers serving a city of more than 50,000 people, so business must be booming, right?
Not if your competitor is stealing all of your clients.
Legend has it that Almon Brown Strowger found himself in this exact position in the 1870s and 1880s. The wife of the other undertaker in town worked at the local telephone exchange, and whenever a caller would ask for Strowger’s services, she’d put the call through to her husband, instead. This left Strowger’s business in grave straits.
His complaints to the telephone company proved unfruitful, so Strowger took matters into his own hands — by cobbling together hat pins and electromagnets into the first automated telephone exchange.
Anyway, still things to figure out, but the most immediate decisions are complete.
Pax.
There is something about making the plans that brings out the skewed humor. And so it should be. I got my sister's from Amazon. When I scattered her ashes per her wishes I burned the wooden box. Sorta like the Vikings. Frid vare med dig, broder.
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