Today I thought we could do with a lighthearted post. Please welcome our guest writer, Juliann Salinas. Juliann is a Co-founder of the Midwest Green Burial Society and a social justice advocate. She holds a BA in Political Science from the University of Colorado at Boulder and an MBA from Ashford University with a specialization in Environmental Management. She is also a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer (Paraguay 1994-1996)
Fall Back: An Autumn Conversation
“Here’s to your season!” she said, holding up her seasonal, local artisan beer with its toothed pumpkin label.
“My season?” I asked, confused. “Why, because I look good in gold and brown, I’m a ‘fall?’”
“You don’t look good in brown or gold. You love black and it fits since it’s the death season – your season.”
“Really? My season? “
“Fine, it’s the death season.”
“Death has a season?”
“Of course death has a season. Everything has a season. Turn, turn, turn and all that.”
“So why is it my death season?”
“Because it’s the death season and well, you know, you’re so into death and all.”
“I’m not ‘in to’ death. I’m in to green burials. It’s not the same thing.”
“It is to most people. Anyway, aren’t you excited?”
“About…?”
“Death season! Halloween, Dia de los Muertos, Fright Fest, Casket Races, Frozen Dead Guy Days…”
“Actually, Frozen Dead Guy Days are in March.”
“See? That’s how you know you’re into death. Right there.”
“What? Why? Because I know when Frozen Dead Guys Days are? Anyone who spent time in Boulder could tell you that. It’s kind of a big deal. Like Alfred Packer Day used to be.”
“Alfred Packer Day?”
“Yeah, at CU we used to celebrate Alfred Packer Day in honor of the Packer party who got lost in the mountains and ran short of food. Packer was tried and convicted of murder and cannibalism in the late 1800s.”
“He ate his companions? Ew.”
“So goes the story. The real ‘ew’ part of Alfred Packer Day, in my opinion, was the Rocky Mountain Oyster eating contest.”
“Double ew. I take it back. You’re not just in to death. You’re in to death and dismemberment.”
“Castration doesn’t kill bulls, and I don’t think it counts as dismemberment.”
“I think the bulls would disagree.”
“We digress. To answer your original question, yes. I do love this season. I love real apple cider from trees that have a worm or two, but no pesticides. I love pumpkin pie made from squash I grew in my garden. I love the way the leaves turn gold and stand out against cold, deep blue skies. I love wearing fleece vests without the need for down-filled overcoats. I love watching the kids get excited about trick-or-treating and showing off their costumes. And yes, I love that it’s the one time of year I seem to be able to talk about green burials and coffins and death in something resembling everyday conversation, with context. There are myriad cultures and religious traditions that consider fall a time for reflection and remembrance for those who have transitioned from this earthly plane, and yeah…that’s an opening for me. The spiral of life and death is on stunning, humbling display in the fall and it’s an easy segue to a conversation about how one’s own death could help benefit, instead of harm, the environment.”
“See?” She said smugly, finishing her beer, “It’s your season.”
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