Malaria, typhoid, poisonous snakes, peasant uprising, tsunami, Opium deal gone wrong: all things that I imagine could kill me while visiting an Asian island nation. Now, I have to add bad karaoke manners to this list. One night in Bangkok may make a hard man humble, but one night in Sandakan could leave a Patsy Cline wannabe bleeding in the gutter.
Note to self: do not get drunk in Malaysia.
Puppies maul abandoned cancer patient (click on link to read the full article)
Am I just sick, or did anyone else kind of giggle while reading this? Yes, it’s horrible that this poor, sick man was abandoned by his own daughter and left to die. She should rot in hell. But, holy crap, people! Mauled by puppies!?
Mauled. By. Puppies.
The picture those words paint in my brain make it physically impossible for me to keep a straight face! Maybe if it were my mother, or grandma, who was the victim of a vicious puppy mauling, I wouldn’t find the situation so amusing. Maybe.
I gotta tell ya, if given a choice of tortures, I would have to pick being mauled by puppies. What could be a more adorable way to die? Raped by bunnies? Suffocated by kittens? Trampled by baby elephants? I think I would pick any of these over being slowly eaten away by cancer. If anything, people would remember my death and smile. I would like that.
I’m fascinated by the Day of the Dead as celebrated in many parts of Mexico and South America. They set aside two days at the beginning of November to celebrate deceased children (11/1) and deceased adults (11/2). I particularly like the imagery that is associated with this holiday. Skulls and skeletons are decorated with flowers and bright colors, candy skulls are given out as treats to the children. Death is celebrated, the dead remembered and honored. So different than our Halloween, where death and the dead are something to fear (don’t get me wrong – I loves the Halloween, too!). Instead of rotting corpses, they have dancing skeletons.
Here are some Day of the Dead skulls that I made while I probably should have been doing other things.
Life in most industrialized countries is so far removed from death. It used to be that family members were in charge of preparing the body of a dead relative for burial. The body would be displayed in the home for people to come and pay their respects. Now, we pay someone to take care of these details for us. If the deceased is cremated, many relatives or friends may not even see the body.
I touched my dead grandfather when I was about five. I stood on tip-toes to reach into the casket and touched his chest. I hadn’t yet learned to be afraid. And that fear is learned. Supersitions, religions and society in general teach us to be afraid, to turn away, to let someone else handle it.
Part of that fear comes from knowing that one day, we won’t be able to turn away because Death will be there for us. He will be smiling. I hope that I am, too.
