Aunt Peg

Since the fraternity of Curmudgeons is teeming with old coots, the topic of how one properly prepares for the hereafter often crops up.  Since this is a decidedly personal issue, the Handbook steers clear of committing us to specifics.  

My personal preferences leaned towards cremation and ash scattering on the coast of Maine until a disturbing incident occurred.  It turns out the family member(s) to whom you entrust this ash scattering responsibility may not enthusiastically embrace the sacred moment exactly as you had imagined.

Such was the fate of Aunt Peg, who had specified this very scattering-of-the-ashes-at-sea thing.  Her, err, remains came to us here in NJ in a metal can, neatly welded shut.  After her hanging around the house for a couple years, we finally remembered to take her to Maine, and proceeded to set sail for the sacred moment.  Out at sea, as we prepared to scatter her (downwind of course), we realized we had forgotten the can opener.  This wasn't shaping up well.

Undaunted, we scrounged around and came up with a tool to pierce the can so that Aunt Peg could gracefully succumb to the sea.  After a few solemn words, overboard she went.  Who knew the can would float?  We couldn't have her washing ashore, so we came about...and prepared to ram.  

We meant well.