The Blust Bros. were our sainted local undertakers when I was growing up in Southwestern Iowa.  The two brothers had operated the funeral home since their father, who had started in funeral home in 1871 had died in 1916.  In the 1960s the Blust Bros. were still doing our funerals, and on top of this they operated our local furniture store, and on top of that they operated the only ambulance service for a 30 mile radius.

Today when I say in conversation that I operated a ambulance service, and that many funeral homes across this country also operated ambulance services, people look at me like I have carrots growing out of my eye balls.  Then of course the utterly predictable, but utterly stupid remark is made concerning the “glaring” conflict of interest of the undertaker running the ambulance service – everybody except me has a great laugh at this idea.  These days I am so damned tired of explaining the history of the funeral home ambulance service that when this junk happens I usually just order another drink or maybe several.

However funeral homes did indeed operate ambulance services, and the truth is most funeral directors took the ambulance service very seriously even though it was a constant operational headache for which most funeral directors never got paid.

Today people innocently project the sophisticated notions of “emergency medical technicians” and the even more impressive “Para-medic” training and expertise to their vision of the funeral home ambulance services and this is totally understandable.  However during the period when funeral homes were operating ambulance services, the idea of specially trained professionals, let alone the idea of moving hospitals on wheels as we see today, were thoughts and visions that were relegated to the science fiction books and thinking.

In my own ambulance career, looking back the basic approach to funeral home ambulance services came, in my opinion, down to two facts:  first was let’s load and go, and second was the idea that fast speed to the hospital equaled patient care.  Yes to be sure we had oxygen tanks, we had Ace bandages, and we had Timmon splints, and I remember the most impressive piece of equipment was the “Ricco” aspirator.  We did the best we could with what we had, and the truth is the funeral home ambulance service worked well and certainly provided a much needed service to the community for a very long time, but if anybody held a card in “Advanced First Aid” they were at the top of the ambulance training system.

The Packard Ambulance
The Blust Bros. had a great 1949 Packard Ambulance sitting in their garage, and folks, it was not a combination (hearse and ambulance).  This was an honest to God, fully equipped ambulance (equipped for that time).  The vehicle  had a huge cherry red light on top, and a great big Federal “Q” siren prominently attached to the front of the vehicle.  The Blust Bros. had a cot, they had several towels, they had a pan you could vomit in, they had splints, they had oxygen, they had bandages and with no hesitation they very boldly advertised in our local newspaper that they offered “TWENTY FOUR HOUR EMERGENCY AMBULANCE SERVICE – FULLY EQUIPPED.”

Everybody in town was mighty impressed and proud of this Packard vehicle.  Even the ambulances we would see in Omaha could not compare in sheer size and sound to the Blust Bros. ambulance.

The Blust Bros. ambulance was not just a vehicle; it was, looking back, a moving signal to the good people in our little town that something had happened to somebody in our town that needed our community's attention, and more importantly, it required our attentive gossip.  And if our little town was anything, it was mighty skilled at the noble art of gossiping.

Here is a typical Blust Bros. ambulance call.  Usually when no funerals were going on, the Blust Bros. could be found laying down carpet, delivering a refrigerator, or setting up a bedroom set in a home.  In fact, the brothers had signs for the furniture store or the funeral home, some of which would read “Closed, got a funeral today”, or “Laying carpet at _______ if you need us come get us.”

There were no pagers, no beepers, certainly no cell phones, and in our little town the idea of an answering service was as remote a concept as, say, the idea that we could put a man on the moon.  The Blust Bros. communication system was simply this:  If you needed the Blust Bros. and if they were not at the funeral home or at the furniture or at their own homes, you had to go find them.  That was the way it was, and no one in town thought any different.

No question about it, when we heard the Blust Bros. siren most everything in town stopped.  Everybody went to their windows or front porches and would wait to see the Blust Bros. fly past our midst with the red light flashing, the siren blasting, and Henry Blust at the wheel going like a bat out of hell.  Then the gossip would begin in earnest.  “Who was it?” “Could it be. . . .” you know that “so-and-so is doing poorly.”  A wonderful system of community chatter would start and it was all stimulated to community life by two old undertakers flying past us in a 1949 Packard ambulance.
 
Today I am impressed and of the opinion that the Blust Bros. really loved their siren, because they used it every chance they got, and with tremendous bravado would crank that sound up to fever pitch and then just let it rip, moving through our streets and byways with terribly impressive speed.  All I could think of when I saw that old Packard ambulance was that was what I wanted to do went I grew up – and folks, my dream did indeed come true.

Today of course the Blust Bros. ambulance simply pales in comparison with the high tech skills and vehicles that we expect as basic, standard care.  The Blust Bros., however, possessed something with their 1949 Packard ambulance that I suspect might well be absent in today’s high tech world of emergency medical care – our people in our town knew these two men and we trusted them.

The care the Blust Bros. were able to offer the sick and injured certainly would not measure up to the impressive standards of care today, but the Blust Bros. possessed an aura and a panache about them running that old ambulance such that when our people saw these two ancient, hard-of-hearing brothers show up, we all looked at each other with the look of affirmation that “all will be well, the Blust Bros. are here.”  Looking back, I believe that was a priceless connection that we had with our local undertakers – “all will be well.”

If an injured person was screaming in pain at the top of their lungs, it didn’t make any difference to the Blust Bros. not because they were insensitive but because they couldn’t hear the screams, they couldn’t hear anything at all, ever.  But all Henry Blust had to do was to look at someone or a gathered group in our town and say the magic words “Don’t worry about this; we will take care of it” and we all went home feeling better, even if the poor injured soul expired.

If someone died in the Blust Bros. care no one ever thought to level blame at the two brothers, and suing our beloved Blust Bros. was unconscionable, and we all knew that when someone died on the way to the hospital in a couple of days the Blust Bros. furniture store would be closed because Henry and Nob Blust would be entrusted with doing the person’s funeral.

All of this was possible because, as I said in another blog, we just liked the Blust Bros.  Liking is a powerful motivator for all kinds of human behavior.  Liking, I believe, is still a real goal in life, and it seems evident that it is still one of the key parts of being effective in the art and skill of being a good funeral professional.  Being well liked is a good thing. 

Anyway that is one old undertaker’s opinion.  God bless the good ole’ Blust Bros. TVB

Last week I spent a very nice day doing some training.  What a wonderful, professional group of individuals in the group – no grumpy, fussing complaining people – no, not one.  It was fun, energizing, focused, and above all dedicated to discussions and knowledge about one major subject – serving families better.  It was refreshing, and did this old undertaker’s soul a world of good.

During the time that I had to teach I posed a question that I always ask any group I am working with:  “What do you think is the greatest threat and challenge facing funeral service today?”  I believe it is a good question to ask because the question basically cuts to the chase of what I believe seminars should be all about and eliminates any potential “Pollyanna” stuff which one often encounters in what is called group thinking.  I mean, really, anybody can deal with the good times, when things are going really well, that takes little talent. But are these times in funeral service/cemetery work good times and going really well???????

Here are some of the responses I received to my question:  casket stores, WalMart (of course nobody liked WalMart), cremation increase, lost casket sales, government regulations, poor recruitment efforts, changed people, changed demographics, changed value systems, funeral director wannabes butting in, aggressive sales techniques, and general malaise and apathy concerning detailed funeral service.  One courageous funeral professional even remarked that they thought one of the major problems funeral service was experiencing was preachers who did not know how to preach and hence ruined all the good work of the funeral home!

It was a great discussion and all the responses were valid I, thought anyway, to one degree or another. 

Privately, and I eventually shared this thought with the group, I have been haunted by an issue which just does not get discussed or explored much in professional circles, the almost silent issue of dwindling time.  In other words the erosion of the time that people spend these days in funeral and cemetery activities, in rites rituals and ceremonies, in leave-taking, in saying goodbye, in saying their final farewells.  This dwindling of time haunts me, and I believe we are already experiencing the consequences and they are not favorable.

When I was 14, my grandfather died in Southwestern Iowa.  He was 90 something, we really never knew how old he actually was, because he was born in Holland and never had a birth certificate.  He did not even have a Social Security number, and could not read or write English.  He smoked 20 cigars a day and had seven children.  I adored him.

Upon his death we called the trusty old Blust Bros. to come out to the farm to get his body.  What a nice way to describe an undertaker – trusty and old.  Later that day my grandmother and a few select family members, me included, picked out the casket in the showroom in the back of the furniture store.  Everything came to $800.  My grandfather had kind of prearranged his funeral without the help of the Blust Bros. by putting ten $100 bills in an envelope which was labeled “Funeral.”

My grandmother just handed Henry Blust the entire envelope and said “Take out of that what you will need.”  Mr. Blust counted out eight $100 bills and handed the rest back to my grandmother.  What a transaction – win/win in 1964!  Until the day she died my grandmother thought that Henry Blust was a saint from heaven because she received a “refund” on her husband’s funeral – two hundred dollars!   Trusty old undertaker Mr. Henry Blust did not take all her money – now there is a refreshing idea.

The first day at the viewing our horribly dysfunctional family gathered in the large room at the Blust Bros.  Some of these people basically hated each other and had not talked to each other for years even though they only lived maybe seven miles apart.  The Van Becks weren’t and are not today the Waltons. No one ever said “Good night, Todd Boy” to me.

That first day, seeing my grandfather, we all cried for six hours.

The next day new people started showing up.  There were some tears for some, but basically we were all standing around getting all the most recent updates on the gossip concerning our family.  You know the drill – who is back drinking too much, who is cheating on their spouse, who got kicked out of high school, who just lost their driver’s license, who is still borrowing money. You know, gossip – our family seems to thrive on it.

The third day at the funeral home the place looked like we were having a party.  Food was everywhere, people were laughing, some still crying, but most were just talking about what a long and useful life my grandfather had lived, and it was concluded by everybody that this fact was a comfort and blessing.

On the fourth day we had a funeral for him at 2 p.m. (that is when Protestants went to heaven in our little community) and buried him in the Oak Hill Cemetery in Hancock, Iowa.  After the funeral we all returned to the basement of the church, where the church ladies as usual had prepared a funeral feast.  Trust me, folks, Iowa church ladies know how to put on a funeral feast – nothing better not even at the Tavern on the Green in New York City.

Here are a few more particulars. The casket was a cloth covered wood, and looked real nice.  The outer box at the cemetery was made of wood which was an old railroad shipping case.  There were some nice flowers.  The preacher did a nice job.  It was a nice funeral, a nice experience, and in three days our entire family had moved from crying and weeping to celebrating. BUT IT TOOK THREE DAYS – IT TOOK TIME.

From a funeral service perspective, here are some particulars. First off the Blust Bros. building was used for three full days. The lights were on, the air conditioners were running full blast, the taped music was playing, the register book was out, the public was showing up by the tens of hundreds, the Blust Bros. were on the floor of the funeral home and not sitting in a coffee lounge watching a soap opera or Bob Barker giving away a new car.  They had embalmed my grandfather and he looked great.  They had dressed him and he looked really spiffy.  They had NOT put on too much cosmetics.  The funeral coach was not new, but it was shiny and clean, and the Blust Bros. were dressed impeccably. 

Here is a private thought.  I pangs me to drive by a funeral home at night and see that the entire place is dark – nothing is happening – nobody is going in or out, and I know that inside the building there are five deceased persons.  That bothers me. 

Looking back at my grandfather’s funeral, it was full of meaning, it was full of memories, it was full of emotion, and it was full of life.  It was definitely worth $800.

BUT IT TOOK TIME.

I have told this experience to thousands of funeral and cemetery professionals across North America and when I tell this story everyone gets a peaceful smile and pensive look on their faces.  I ask them “Do you think this was a valuable experience?”  They all nod in the affirmative – yes, indeed.

Last week when I was doing my seminar I flew into my old hometown Cincinnati, “The Queen City.”  I miss Cincinnati terribly.  I was getting my rental car and looked at the morning issue of the local newspaper and started reading the obituaries.  Here is one that caught my attention and sent chills down my spine.  “Calling hours at the mortuary starting at 11:00 a.m.; funeral will begin at Noon.”

One hour!  One hour!  One hour!  Now in these times, add to this immediate cremation, immediate burials, private graveside services, private services, services at the convenience of family. Well, here is a question:  If we have gone from memorializing our dead for three days of time say 35 years ago, down to 3 – 5 hours of time today, what will be the time that people use for funerals in the year 2020?  Three days down to three hours!  Dwindling ...

Dwindling, dwindling, and dwindling!  Fewer people attending funerals, less time being spent memorializing our dead – dwindling.  

I personally believe that dwindling time is the greatest threat to the future of the funeral.  Without time or without our making the precious little time we have to serve a family absolutely the most meaningful that it can be I believe we will continue to see the natural erosion of the funeral experience.  Funerals need time they always have and always will.

To this end I believe that just simple awareness on our parts of this silent issue is tantamount to our improving this situation.  Our awareness of this silent issue of dwindling time will stimulate professionals in funeral service and cemetery work to adapt, and adopt the new and improved methods which are being promoted everyplace and everyday to serve families to the best of our abilities within the time constraints that modern life and times are imposing upon us.  

We can and do have an influence on the decisions that our families make.  

Anyway that is one old undertaker’s opinion. TVB