LIFE’S UNDERTAKINGS FAMILY, FRIENDS & passionate, dedicated avoidance of exercise. Although I absolutely believe life is beautiful and every morning a miracle to make life great again, mid-life has shown me that a life of joy and passion is not built on lifeless, joyless actions dedicated to staying alive. A solidary focus on eating organic, watching our cholesterol, counting steps and huffing around in a vain attempt to weigh what we weighed in high school – I really must give up the dream! – sucks the joy out of life. There’s no way to know whether my dad knew of Professor Randy Pausch and his “Last Lecture” work but both men held the same view: You don’t beat the reaper by living longer, you beat the reaper by living well.
BRAD JONES
Owner, Ridley Funeral Home My father was not a small man.
At the peak of his prime, long before poor health and old age rolled up on him, Dad’s physique was what you’d call fashionably rotund or happily round. His impressive height and weight radiated abundance and prosperity, and showed his deep, life-long commitment to savouring joy while navigating life’s tragedies. Back in the day, before fat-free diets and gruelling “fun” exercise routines, being (male) big signified you were blessed with a rich and enjoyable life. Whether the fruits of your labours appeared at the dining room table or inside the boardroom – I refuse to say bedroom! – having a belly meant you were successful at taking bites out of life and you were celebrated for sharing your pie slice with others. Imagine that famous painting of chubby-happy King Henry VIII. Sure, the man is huge but in his gaze and stance, you can tell Henry knows he’s king. Within that 16 th -century frame we see that life’s troubles (e.g., Henry’s six wives) have not diminished the monarch’s expectation that, like his big body, life will continue to expand, grow and improve. I miss those days. Daily choices would be a lot easier, and more delicious, if my ever- expanding waistline were a reflection of my appreciation for life rather than my love of late- night eating and a
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How better to live well than to sit down with family and friends, and break bread (carbs!) together. “Eat, drink and be merry” is not a lifestyle mindset exclusive to the holidays. Every day we have the opportunity, whether eating alone or with others, to give thanks for the food on our plates, forks, tongues and ties. (I’m a funeral director. I wear a tie.) There’s a reason why food is showcased so spectacularly when we are extremely happy or extremely sad. Whether you’re at a wedding or a funeral, food thaws the ice as we mingle among family, friends and strangers just as funeral sandwiches and tuna casseroles warm a broken heart. Irrespective of what kind of day or night you’re having, food helps. Just ask Oprah. But true, longlasting nourishment comes from the meals made, served and shared with love. When I look back on my childhood I remember my mother always wanting to sit me down so she could feed me. (Don’t get too nostalgic. There are plenty of families still committed to the tradition!) My father’s contribution to the family joy effort was welcoming me into the grown-up world of wine. He’d slow me down enough to see, sip and savour. And as a father to six children, I’ve had the privilege of watching my wife feed each of our babies for the very first time; the love and connection between a mother and child are undeniable. I know my parents, and yours too, would agree. Ironically this life-long, sort of obsessive thinking about food and family made my first few years as a funeral director challenging. You see, families rarely, if ever, accept a cup of coffee from an undertaker. Or at least not at first. Accepting food and drink from someone,
ETOBICOKE LAKESHORE PRESS
