When I was a kid, back in the Stone Age, here Down South, people were laid out in the casket in the living room while visitors brought tons of food...................
My grandfather was laid out in the front room of the house. As a ten year old, it gave me the creeps. He was a bad man, so I already had the creeps.
Home wakes were done all over,not just in The South.
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My wife grew up in South Carolina and she tells stories based on that tradition. Not only did friends and family bring lots of food, but it wasn’t uncommon for someone to bring a bottle or a mason jar and pass it around. And pretty soon, everyone’s spirits had been raised, literally and figuratively.
She recalls one “sitting up” where things got a little rowdy. Her mother walked into the parlor, where the dearly departed could be viewed in his coffin. Except the coffin was empty, while various “mourners” climbed in and out of the casket to “see how it felt.” The deceased family member, dressed in the only suit he ever owned, was propped up in the corner, with a lamp shade on his head.
As the custom of “sitting up with the dead” became less common, visitations and services shifted to the funeral home. This didn’t sit well with other members of her family, who missed the “buffet” that came with paying your respects at the home. So one evening, as they stood around the coffin, someone decided snacks were in order. A few of the bereaved chipped in some cash and sent one of their sons to a nearby grocery store. He returned with Pepsi Cola for everyone, along with chips, peanuts and of course, moon pies.
After declining their offer of refreshments, my wife tracked down the funeral director and asked if he knew what the mourners were up to. Tactfully, he went into the parlor and asked the “snackers” to take their food and drink outside. He told my wife that despite decades in the business, that funeral marked the first time he would have to vacuum a corpse, to get rid of the chips, moon pie crumbs and peanut shells that fell into the coffin.
My strangest memory of a funeral came at the service of one of my sisters-in-law, about a decade ago. The young minister delivering the eulogy took time out to issue an altar call. That was a first for me.
The family farm, where my mom still lives, was built in 1830. The door from the parlor to outside is extra wide to accommodate coffins. Many of my family were laid out there. Most of them were born in that house, too.
We still bring lots of food.