Respect the grave diggers

"Come my spade. There is no ancient gentleman but gardeners, ditchers and gravemakers that hold up Adam's profession."

A quote from Hamlet by William Shakespeare.

Last week I was working with a woman named Lisa at my son's school. We were choosing photos that will be in the annual school calendar that is sold each year as a fund raiser. Lisa asked me if I had to be home at any certain time.

I said that I had to be home by 4, as I had to take my son to a floor hockey game in Owatonna.

"My husband, Tom would take him to the game, but he has to fill in at 4," I said.

"Oh does he do that often?" Lisa asked.

"Well no, usually he doesn't usually have to fill in so late in the afternoon. Most burials are scheduled earlier in the day," I said.

"Oh, well, sometimes I have to stay later at the hospital where I work. I help fill in for someone who has do to something else," Lisa said.

"No, he is not filling in for someone. Well, yes he is filling in for someone. It's someone's grave, but he is not taking someone's place. He is filling in a person's grave with dirt. He's a grave digger," I said.

Lisa looked startled and then started to laugh, "I forgot that is what he does for a living. He really is filling in for someone. He literally is filling in for someone, filling in a person's grave with dirt."

"Yes," I said nodding.

This has happened to me so often, being misunderstood when I talk about Tom's job. Not many people believe me at first when I say that my husband digs graves for a living.

"He does not!" some people say immediately. Then there are those that comment, "I used to do that." I have found that digging graves has often been one of the first jobs that many young men in rural communities do when they are old enough and strong enough to move dirt with a shovel.

Digging graves was one of the first jobs that Rod Stewart, the British rocker did when he was growing up. Saint Anthony, who was born in Egypt in the year 251 is known as the patron saint of Grave-Diggers.

Grave diggers deserve respect. They are doing the last thing on earth for a person, laying that body to rest. This poem by Carl Sandburg is a true ode to those who care for those on their final journey on earth.

"To Certain Journeymen" By Carl Sandburg

UNDERTAKERS, hearse drivers, grave diggers, I speak to you as one not afraid of your business.

You handle dust going to a long country.

You know the secret behind your job is the same whether you lower the coffin with modern, automatic machinery, well-oiled and noiseless, or whether the body is laid in by naked hands and then covered by the shovels.

Your day's work is done with laughter many days of the year.

And you earn a living by those who say good-by today in thin whispers.

My brother Tim dug graves with my dad for 10 years. One time during this period in his life he went to visit a psychic with one of my sisters. The psychic took Tim's hand and said, "I don't know what you do for a living, but I can tell that whatever you do, it is really down to earth."

Tim laughed and said, "It sure is."