Storytellersunplugged

There are many significant wonders in nature, and some of them appear in the most unusual places. I had the opportunity to witness one of these treasures recently while on this seemingly never-ending book tour. I detoured from book schlepping for a couple of days to visit a funeral home client in New York. That’s where I saw it….

I was standing near the prep room door, listening to the funeral home owner (who I’ll call Sue for anonymity’s sake) comment about a new employee schedule when the embalming room door abruptly flew open. Laura, one of the young funeral home apprentices, stumbled out, her eyes wide, and her face flushed. She looked startled and confused and came to a halt in front of us, blinking rapidly. I figured she’d been given an accident case to embalm, which can be a gruesome task indeed.

“What’s wrong?” Sue asked.

Laura turned to her boss, her flush deepening. “I. . .uh . . .he . . .” She glanced back at the prep room door, which had closed automatically. “Well . . .uh . . .he . . .”

“What?” Sue asked again, her voice sharp with impatience.
Laura’s blinking grew more rapid. “I’m not sure what to do with his . . .uh . . .well . . .his. . .”

“Rough case?” I asked, trying to coax a complete sentence from her.

“Not . . . not really.”

“Then what?” Sue asked.
Laura jabbed a thumb over her shoulder, and a nervous smile played around the corners of her mouth. “Go see for yourself.”

Shaking her head in frustration, Sue hurriedly keyed in the code to unlock the prep room door, and we both stepped inside. Laura followed closely behind.

Because inspections are part of my job in funeral homes, the first thing I habitually do when entering any embalming room is quickly scan the floor, counters, and equipment for cleanliness and safety as it relates to the proper placement of tools. Then I take in the embalming table and whoever’s lying on top of it. That habit was broken, however, as soon as I heard Sue let out a long, breathy, “Wow.”

A dark-haired man lay atop the embalming table, naked except for a strip of cloth resting across his genitals. He looked to be in his mid forties, muscular, and about six feet tall. His head was aimed at the door, so I couldn’t see his face, which I assumed had to be grossly disfigured judging from Sue and Laura’s reaction. I headed toward the body, then stopped cold when I neared the middle of the embalming table.

The man’s face was far from disfigured. He had high cheekbones, a strong chin, Antonio Banderas lips, and a flawless complexion. His striking good looks didn’t draw the exclamation from Sue, though. The web-roll did. All eyes, including mine, zeroed in on the piece of cloth that covered his loins.

For a frame of reference, I must explain that Web-roll comes packaged similar to paper towels. It’s a roll that’s placed in a wall canister. The material is thicker than a paper towel, a tight, heavy weave of absorbent, disposable fabric that’s approximately 11” wide and the length is determined by need. Typically, an embalmer will tear off a strip so it’s nearly squared, 11” X 11”, just enough to cover the loins while the body is being embalmed and cleaned.

Laura hadn’t been the one to estimate the web-roll needed for this case, however. She’d simply gone into the prep room to complete an embalming as ordered by one of the funeral directors. She wasn’t prepared for what lay on the table. Neither was I.

Nature had been generous to this man—VERY generous, as his endowments far exceeded the 11” strip of cloth. We stood speechless for a moment, staring. I cleared my throat, wondering what to say other than what I was thinking, which was, “Damn!”

Fortunately, Laura spoke first. “So what do I do with it?” she asked.

Sue swiped a hand over her mouth, trying to hide a widening grin. After she composed herself, she said, “What do you mean, ‘what do I do with it?’”

“The family wants a full casket viewing, both lids open,” Laura said. She chewed on her bottom lip for a second. “It’s . . .it’s gonna show.”

I knew what the apprentice meant. With the bottom lid open, and the man lying flat, there’d be no way to camouflage his abundance. Anyone who didn’t know the man intimately (in the carnal sense of the word), would wind up mesmerized by his crotch instead of his face.
With her lips pursed and brow furrowed, Sue walked over to the body and removed the web-roll. I could have sworn I saw Sue’s eyes roll back in her head when she took in the full sight of him. And I have to admit, I had to turn away for a moment to regain my own composure. Without question, nature at its finest has the ability to leave a person in awe. When I looked back, I saw Sue reaching out to touch him. Her fingers stopped an inch or two from the man’s organ, and she looked up at me, then over at Laura.

“Maybe if we place it against his stomach instead of down, the suit coat might hide it,” Sue said, then with trembling fingers, positioned the organ to demonstrate what she meant.

Laura shook her head. “It’ll be worse. He’ll look like we’ve hidden a salami under his jacket.”

It took three hours and all three of us to figure out a solution to the challenge. After embalming and washing the body, a wide strip of duct tape was stretched from one of his thighs to the other. This flattened the organ somewhat, but not nearly enough. It was still his prominent feature. To further minimize its bulk, we casketed the body with the head raised higher than normal, which de-emphasized the lower half of his body, then we padded the inside of his suit pants, especially the thigh areas, with layers of web-roll.

Amazingly enough, even with all the padding, we managed to get the lower half of his body to appear proportionate to his upper half.

The final test came during Mr. Nature-At-Its-Finest’s viewing. The three of us held our breath while friends and family members filed past the casket to inspect the body. As far as I could tell, everyone focused on his face—except his wife, who stole furtive glances at his crotch, a confused expression on her face. I knew she was wondering what happened to it, but she never did ask, which was a relief. How does one explain duct tape and web-roll to a woman who’s just lost SO much?

With this kind of research material, it’s a shame I don’t write romance novels. One thing’s for sure, it made me acutely aware that I’ve been on the road too damn long!