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MemorialsNovember 19, 2006 Joan's very long-time friend Stuart was the first speaker at her memorial service yesterday. He sings and plays guitar (not right now because he recently had surgery on his shoulder and his arm's in a sling), and some distant while ago she told him that she wanted him to sing a certain song at her funeral. He said he would. Trouble was, he forgot what song it was. So Wednesday night Joan's husband Jay and another close friend were going through some of Joan's daybooks and one of them fell open to the page with the name of the song on it: "Keep Me in Your Heart for a While," by Warren Zevon and Jorge Calderon. Stuart said Joan knew he would forget the song so she worked out a way to remind him. I already loved the song. I'll never hear it again without thinking of Joan. Right now Warren Zevon is singing it in my head; he really was running out of breath when he recorded it for The Wind, but that just makes it more real.
So I've been picking songs for my memorial service, so that my friends will hear them after I'm dead, remember me, and smile, groan, shed a tear, or burst out laughing. Bob Franke's "Thanksgiving Eve" is high on the list. So is James Keelaghan's "Who Dies?" The second verse goes like this:
This isn't the kind of thing that's generally sung in churches, but my memorial service won't be in a church. It'll probably be in a barn. Whose barn? Anyone's barn, or whoever's barn I'm at when I die. Maybe it'll be my own barn, but don't bet on it. Any barn with horses in it will do. If some of them are Morgans, so much the better. More songs are crowding in: Pete Morton's "Another Train," and Stan Rogers's "Mary Ellen Carter" -- by the time I die, they'll have been played at all my book parties, and everyone will have the dosage instructions: "Play 10 times at first sign of depression and if symptoms recur play 10 more times as needed." Cris Williamson's "Waterfall" would be good, and Loreena McKennit's "Dark Night of the Soul." Someone should read a passage -- almost any one will do -- from Adrienne Rich's "Women and Honor: Some Notes on Lying." If a full chorus and orchestra happen to be in the vicinity, Mikis Theodorakis's Canto General (text by Pablo Neruda) is my first choice, because if I come back as a singer, I want to be the alto soloist, but Verdi's Requiem is a close second. Don't forget the tympani. Note that I haven't made any decisions about who should take care of Allie and Rhodry, never mind who should be my literary executor. Maybe when Mud of the Place gets sold I'll believe that I have some literature worth executing. If I die tomorrow, my survivors won't have a clue what my wishes were. Hell, I don't even have a clue who my survivors are. My advice is to take everything and junk it. If you can manage to coax Mud out of Morgana IV, feel free to pass it off as your own and see it into print. One of Rhodry's many fans will probably volunteer to give him a more coddled and comfortable old age than I ever could. Allie's breeders would probably help find her a good home. But I don't think I'll be checking out tomorrow. For several days after Joan's passing I thought my talents were pretty meager in comparison, but after yesterday, after hearing all those stories and meeting some of her family and friends, I think I'll persevere. Joan was interested in my writing and editing, even though we knew each other such a short time that she didn't learn much about any of it. I didn't know what a good painter she was till after she was dead. Keep me in your heart for a while.
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