Acknowledgments
(by Todd)
First, Id like to express my sincerest gratitude to you, the reader. If there hadnt been such demand generated from Mortuary Confidential this book wouldnt exist. Publishing Darwinism: 80 percent of books fail. Ken and I were lucky to skate in with the scant 20 percent because of you.
Second, Id like to thank Michaela Hamilton, our amazing editor at Kensington, for believing in Over Our Dead Bodies and helping us put together an excellent, albeit moribund (sorry, funeral director humor), product.
There were several people during the different incarnations of this work who helped to ultimately shape it to what youre reading. Elana, Caren, Chris, and Caitlin helped in minor and major ways. Also, the many, many people and brethren who have shared their stories; you gave me something to wordsmith.
Scotty Nav, a longtime partner in crime, continues to offer his web design prowess.
Scott and Meg Harra and the other Rakkasans and soldiers who continue to guarantee our First Amendment Rights.
Of course, this book wouldnt exist without Uncle Rick. He has taken me under his wing and taught me the profession from the inside out. I have never met someone who loves what they do for a living more that he does. I give Uncle Rick credit for introducing me to Ken. He spied a little ad in American Funeral Director for the calendar and paid my entry fee.
Finally, my family. Being a writer means many solitary hours, and my wife is exceedingly patient with me. For me, it was a strange contrariety laboring over a book about death while welcoming new life into the world.
(by Ken)
I want to thank my co-author, Todd, for taking the lead on this project when I found myself consumed with personal losses.
Also, I want to acknowledge the thousands of families I have served the past twenty-seven years. Thank you. I am eternally grateful that you entrusted the care of your loved ones to me.
A LSO BY K ENNETH M C K ENZIE AND TODD H ARRA
Mortuary Confidential: Undertakers Spill the Dirt
Photo of Ken McKenzie
by Dave Champagne
Photo of Todd Harra
by Melissa Harra
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
K ENNETH M C K ENZIE discovered his call to be a mortician at the age of twelve when his father committed suicide. Serving grieving families with empathy came very naturally to him. Ken has been a funeral director for twenty-six years, and a funeral home owner for eighteen years.
In 2007 Ken created and published the well-received Men of Mortuaries calendar ( www.menofmortuaries.org ) for the benefit of KAMM Cares ( www.kammcares.org ), which assists women going through breast-cancer treatment. The success of the 2007, 2008, and 2009 calendars prompted the creation of the book, Mortuary Confidential , and its follow-up, Over Our Dead Bodies.
For his community involvement in the Long Beach area, Ken was recognized as the outstanding businessman of the year, and received the prestigious Californias Outstanding Funeral Director of the Year award in 2007.
Please visit www.menofmortuaries.org .
T ODD H ARRA is a fourth-generation undertaker. He works for the family business in Wilmington, Delaware. This is his second major publication. For more information visit www.toddharra.com .
If you would like to submit your story for consideration in
future compilations, please send it to Ken and Todd at
www.menofmortuaries.org .
Your purchase of Over Our Dead Bodies is helping women
who are battling breast cancer. A portion of the proceeds of
this book is being donated to the KAMM Cares Foundation.
For more information or to make a donation, please visit
www.kammcares.org .
CHAPTER 1
Theres No Such Thing as a Normal Day
E ven though I knew it was coming, it was still a shockas its supposed to beas my front doors crashed back on their hinges and policemen flooded in. I found myself staring into the business end of a lot of pistols and I think a shotgun or two. I dont really remember. When there are guns pointed at me my mind tends to go to mush.
Against the wall! a voice behind one of the pistols commanded.
And though my mind was shouting Im the owner! Im the owner! I merely stumbled up against the wall as the wave swept past me, less one officer, who gave me a pat down.
From the parking lot, I could hear the screams of a man overshadowed by an officer yelling, Stop resisting! Stop resisting!
In retrospect, the day hadnt started out so bad, and if I had known it would have ended with BioTecha crime scene remediation servicescrubbing blood out of the carpet and off the walls, I never wouldve gotten out of bed that morning. No funeral is worth that kind of aggravation, not to mention being frisked like a teenage girl on prom night.
It was a Saturday, deceptively sunny and warm for what grief the day would bring. I arrived at my place, McKenzie Mortuary, located in Belmont Heights, Long Beach, early, made coffee and took messages off the answering service, and then took Ruthless, my goldendoodle, for a walk around the block before locking him in my office. My morning routine complete, I went into the chapel to get everything ready for the Revis service. I had dressed and casketed Mrs. Revis the day before, and sometime during the evening the hairdresser had come and done her hair and makeup. I checked the makeup and, satisfied, set about transferring all the flowers from the flower room to the chapel and setting them up around the casket.
Arranging floral tributes is a tricky art. We always set the family pieces closest to the deceased, the closer the degree of kinship, the closer to the casket, followed by coordinating colors and styles. Therefore, what might look best isnt necessarily what is set up because of how close or far from the casket the piece has to sit due to kinship. Mrs. Revis had a large family; I filled the entire front chapel wall around her casket with flowers.
I tinkered and fussed with all the floral arrangements and, finally satisfied, I set out the memorial folders and guest book in the lobby, and set up the Casio keyboard that one of the family members would play during the service at the front of the chapel. I spent the remaining time until the family arrived with a cloth and bottle of Windex shining up glass, mirrors, and furniturenervous energy, really.
Mrs. Reviss son, Charles, and daughter, Jeanette, arrived shortly after 9 A.M. with their families, and went in and viewed their mother. As is my usual modus operandi, I waited a few minutes, heard some muffled weeping, and then swept into the room with a box of tissues. Is everything all right... as far as her appearance is concerned? I inquired.