Dust & Dirt: What Our Bodies Become When We Die
The history of cremation in America and the emergence of human composting.
I want to be cremated.
I want there to be no trace of me anywhere. Toss my ashes in the ocean at Rehoboth Beach, bury them in Liverpool next to my dog, fire them out of a fucking cannon like Hunter S. Thompson. I really don’t care.
Cemeteries and golf courses are colossal wastes of space. I know some people visit their loved one’s plots out of a sense of duty, love and grief. I visited my mother’s for a while; we stopped by between the church and reception when I got married1, but I can’t actually tell you the last time I went.
When I was in elementary school, my parents would take my sister and me to my mother’s father’s grave (same mausoleum as she is in) on his birthday, death anniversary and Palm Sunday2. We always had to be quiet as we walked while we were there and couldn’t dare step off the sidewalk. Save the questions for the car, because no talking! We’d stand there for a few minutes, neck craned upward at his particular spot on the wall, and then leave. I was told to pray but there was no little pew with a little book that told me what to say in my head. They never covered that in religious ed class.3
Anyhow, no cemetery for me. While I think being on display somewhere like Lenin seems fun, it’s quite impractical. That leaves one option: cremation.
I remember being at a family gathering at some point in my youth where there was a discussion of cremation. Mind you, even though cremation has been a thing for the last 17,000 years4, it was only in 1963 that it was allowed by the Papacy.5 My aunt and uncle had just done some advance planning when my uncle announced he was going to be cremated. He didn’t want to go into the ground and have worms crawling in him.6 Six or seven years after he died, I visited my aunt in Las Vegas where she lived at the time. It wasn’t long before I noticed uncle Greg up on the shelf. My sister, who had been out there prior to me, warned me that he would just be there in the room in his urn and that it would follow you around the room, sort of like the eyes of Vermeer’s Girl with the Pearl Earring.7
The National Funeral Directors Association projects that 59% of Americans were cremated in 2022, as opposed to 36% buried. We’re guessing the other 5% donated their bodies to science or returned to their home planet.
The Phoenicians were into cremation, and would dig trenches where the remains of the deceased8, their furniture9 and various ornaments and jewels would go. The Greeks were against it until they weren’t; Homer wrote about it in The Illiad10. It was a technique used to transport soldier’s remains home11, so cremation became synonymous with honor and valor. The arrival of Romans and Christianity ended the practice because The Pope Said So.
Now, the Hindus…the Hindus don’t fuck around; bodies are cremated within 24 hours of death in adherence to the tradition of antyesti.
America didn’t build its first crematorium until 1876, when Francis Julius LeMoyne12 did so in Washington, Pa. LeMoyne’s test case was one of his own sheep. The New York Times detailed the incinerators' first use on a human, Mrs. Jane Pitman of Cincinnati, an expert short-hand writer, who had chosen cremation instead of burial. “They were known in Cincinnati as a somewhat eccentric but very worthy and pleasant couple13,” according to the article. The author goes into pretty specific detail about the process, which reduced Mrs. Pitman to ash:
The alum-soaked cloth that covered her body did not cover her entire head, and the upper part of her head was swathed in cloths that had not been wet with alumwater. As soon as the head was within a foot of the open door of the retort these unwetted cloths took fire, burning the hair and head. In an instant, almost, both rooms were filled with the sickening odor of burning hair and flesh. A dense black smoke immediately poured out of the retort before the door could be closed, and this remained in the building for 15 minutes notwithstanding the opening of the windows. The same kind of smoke poured from the chimney of the retort in dense clouds, filling the air about the building with the odor.
I’m sure cremation has come a long way since then.
As I said, I don’t have plans for what to do with the massive load of ashes that will be produced from me, but what if my dead body could do some good for the planet?
Dirt Nap Q&A: Brie Smith
You don’t think of dying as having an environmental impact, but consider that embalming fluids are toxic, and cremation emits carbon dioxide and those ovens likely use fossil fuels to fire them up. Caskets use natural resources, not to mention what happens when you are buried and how decades of aging and decay will eventually pollute the soil and land where you are buried.
Brie Smith is the chief operating officer of Return Home, a Washington state company that puts deceased bodies through the process of terramation, the process of returning a body to the earth that created it. You might call it human composting, as a the deceased person’s next of kin receives soil enriched with their decomposed body, which has been used in garden and tree planting.
New concepts in old industries don’t take hold easily and usually invite a lot of skepticism, and funerals have been around for centuries. I imagine you get some skeptical looks when discussing human composting. How do you go about selling as an option to a consumer?
When discussing terramation with potential consumers, I often emphasize its environmental benefits. Terramation is not just an eco-friendly alternative; it's an embodiment of the philosophy of dying just as we live — with mindfulness and consciousness of our impact on the planet. This approach resonates with many who have led their lives with an awareness of sustainability and ecological balance. Additionally, the terramation process has a profound effect on the grief journey.
By transforming loved ones into nutrient-rich soil that can nurture new life, families often find solace and a tangible way to commemorate and celebrate the life that once was. The act of planting a tree or garden in memory offers a dynamic and therapeutic way to process grief, creating a living, breathing tribute that continues to grow and flourish. In this way, terramation not only aligns with individual environmental values but also provides a comforting and meaningful pathway through loss.
I think of the funeral homes in my area (Syracuse, NY) and they are pretty old school, mostly ethnically-aligned, shops. What does the sell look like for a funeral home to offer this as an option, because it seems like it would impact revenue streams for them?
To convince traditional funeral homes in Syracuse to offer terramation, the argument hinges on meeting evolving community needs. As younger, eco-conscious demographics grow, funeral homes can attract them by offering sustainable end-of-life choices like terramation. For large conglomerates, diversifying their offerings ensures they don't miss out on a segment of the market that's seeking alternatives.
While terramation might seem to challenge existing revenue streams, Return Home ensures it can be incorporated into existing practices, aligning with market trends and allowing our partners to maintain profitability. Plus, maintaining generational relationships that could be lost to a "progressive" funeral home is a big motivator.
As I think about ethnic and cultural groups, I imagine there is a certain amount of pushback from some religious sects. I know that Catholic groups pushed back when New York approved human composting recently. Are you finding that some cultural groups are more open to it than others?
I mean, the pushback from the Catholics and other religious groups seems contradictory given that Catholicism teaches that our body and soul are separated from one another at death, and in us returning to the ground appears in Genesis 3:19: “By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
Some religious and cultural groups, including certain Catholic factions, have shown initial resistance to terramation, often due to interpretations of religious tenets or unfamiliarity with the process. However, many religious teachings, like the verse from Genesis, align with the idea of returning to the earth. One argument is reverence, which tells me that they've never done research on what we do here at Return Home.
Another argument talks about "division of the body," and my argument is that terramation and natural burial are the only two dispositions where there is zero separation of the body. Embalming separates the body, and I'm interested to know how they can defend that practice and admonish terramation. The challenge lies in framing terramation in a way that emphasizes its compatibility with various religious teachings and engaging in respectful dialogue to bridge understanding.
Do you find that Return Home customers have some common threads? Are they more environmentally conscious or are they outdoors lovers?
Many of Return Home's customers share distinct commonalities. Predominantly, they are environmentally conscious, valuing sustainable and eco-friendly practices throughout their lives and in their end-of-life decisions. A significant number are outdoors enthusiasts or nature lovers who resonate with the concept of physically returning to nature. Notably, a large portion of our clientele is highly educated, often leading them to make informed choices about their afterlife care.
Additionally, we've found that many ranchers and farmers are drawn to our services. The idea of terramation appeals to them deeply, as they have a personal connection to the land and see it as a way to return to, and enrich, the very soil they've worked on and cherished throughout their lives.
Explain the Return Home process, if you would, from a customer’s first contact to when they go into the ground again?
From the moment a customer contacts Return Home, our goal is to provide a journey centered around respect, care, and the natural cycle of life. During this initial engagement, we offer detailed insights into terramation, ensuring all queries are addressed and the individual fully grasps the process. As they decide to proceed, meticulous planning ensues to cater to their specific wishes, ceremonies, and logistical needs.
Following their passing, the deceased is respectfully placed in our specialized terramation vessel. Inside this chamber, conditions like temperature, moisture, and aeration are optimized, allowing the body to naturally decompose over several weeks, resulting in a life-giving compost without the need for chemicals. This process essentially accelerates what would naturally occur over time in the ground. Once this transformation concludes, families have the opportunity to collect the soil, a poignant reminder of their loved one that's brimming with potential for new life. Many opt to plant trees or gardens with this soil, while others, such as ranchers and farmers, might spread it across their cherished lands, symbolizing a genuine return to nature.
Throughout this journey, our dedicated team remains committed to upholding dignity, reverence, and a profound respect for both the individual's memory and the environment.
What is the cost of using Return Home and what do you get that you wouldn’t from a typical embalm-and-casket funeral home?
Our fee is $4,950 and no other facility in the word can offer what Return Home offers to families. We are focused on setting the industry standard for this service, meaning we offer a white-glove and high end experience but are one of the least expensive options for this service in existence. You can visit your loved one before and during the terramation process; we will prepare your loved one so they can be seen for final goodbyes...the list goes on. We believe in accessibility and inclusivity, and I cannot even begin to list the other amazing experiences Return Home offers that differ from, not only the traditional funeral industry, but from other composting providers as well.
New York, where I live, recently permitted human composting by law but I haven’t found any companies that provide the service yet. By contrast, it seems to be more widely accepted in Washington (where it was legalized in 2019) judging by the number of providers. Why do you think it’s taken off in your neck of the woods?
New York has very interesting mortuary law. It’s the cemetery who offers final disposition in New York, not the funeral home, which is very different from Washington state. New York will have to update its laws and regulations before I see providers interested in opening there.
On a similar note, is there a lot of competition between the outfits in Washington or is there more of a community atmosphere surrounding it?
Return Home is hosting TerraCon in February 2024 and have invited all composting providers to participate. We also invited every resource we can think of (from legislators who passed the bills to soil scientists who developed the systems) to participate! We believe in keeping the conversation open and sharing information with other providers, and the world, really! I think that's evident from our major social media following. We also have great friends in Colorado who we regularly collaborate with, including the aforementioned TerraCon! That said, I cannot speak for how the other companies in this space feel.
Is there anything I missed that you would consider important for my readers to understand?
I think it's important to think about the people operating our crematories and our "untouchables." Funeral industry professionals are largely ignored, and it's for many reasons, but my belief is that you should know your funeral provider like you know your doctor. Vet their service, make sure their trustworthy, and never settle for less than your loved ones deserve. Once you've done that, consider hugging your friendly neighborhood funeral director; the probably need it!
Griever’s Digest
Grief is lonely but you can ease the burden by sharing. Griever’s Digest is where our readers open up about their grief journeys. If you’re grieving someone or something, consider opening up to our community. Drop me a line at jaredpaventi at gmail dot com.
Final thoughts on finality…
“The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends. I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time. What do you get at the end of it? A Death! What’s that, a bonus? I think the life cycle is all backwards. You should die first, get it out of the way. Then you live in an old age home. You get kicked out when you’re too young, you get a gold watch, you go to work. You work forty years until you’re young enough to enjoy your retirement. You do drugs, alcohol, you party, you get ready for high school. You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities, you become a little baby, you go back into the womb, you spend your last nine months floating…and you finish off as an orgasm.”
— George Carlin
Dirt Nap is the Substack newsletter about death, grief and dying that is written and edited by Jared Paventi. It’s published every Friday morning.
We are always looking for contributors and story ideas. Drop us a line if you have interested in either space at jaredpaventi at gmail dot com.
I’m all over social media if you want to chat. Find me on Facebook, Twitter/X and Bluesky. I’m on Threads and Mastadon at @jaredpaventi, but I don’t check either regularly. You could message me on Instagram or LinkedIn, but I’m highly unlikely to respond.
Dirt Nap is free and we simply ask that you subscribe and/or share with others. The ego boost of inflated readership stats is all we need to get by.
Picture a big ass party bus full of semi-drunken idiots rolling down a narrow fucking graveyard road as we try to find the mausoleum.
We had to go on Palm Sunday and tape a palm to the wall. I can explain a lot of Catholic stuff, but I never understood this one. Maybe someone can explain it to me in the comments.
My wife told me that she was put through the same torture as a child, though she remembers the trips being more frequent. There were birthdays, Easter, holidays, death anniversaries. The Italians live for dying.
Give or take.
The Second Vatican Council was a barnburner of church modernization that also allowed priests to face their congregants during mass. It was good to see Rome drag everyone into the 15th century.
It’s possible that my uncle didn’t understand how caskets work.
When my aunt died, my uncle’s ashes were buried with her.
Like the Egyptians, they believe in life after death so you could choose mummification as an option, which would also get you a coating in perfumed oils and resins.
Seems impractical for a cremated person. I mean, if you’ve been reduced to ash, it’s not like you’re coming back to sit on your La-Z-Boy.
True story: I could have graduated college with a dual major in history. The only thing standing in my way was Roman Civ and Greek civ courses. Faced with reading the Illiad and Odyssey as a senior, I decided the juice was not worth the squeeze.
Also, it deterred decay and attraction of vermin
For the Syracusans among us, I don’t believe there is a relation to the LeMoyne of which the local college takes its name.
This is exactly the type of thing you could say about my wife and me.
Just guessing on the palm thing, but I'm assuming it's a symbol of the Paschal sacrifice. The whole "resurrection of the dead and the life for the world to come" thing.
I’m currently planning on being cremated but I like the idea of being recycled. I’ve looked into being put into a mushroom bag and planted as well