Sit Me Up on the Juke Box When I Die

I Last night, I was watching a very provocative television program on PBS on "at home" burials (which, incidentally, does not necessarily mean being buried in the back yard, it simply means at home preparation of the body for burial). I've totally decided that this is the way for me. When I die, especially if it's in the near future, I don't want to be taken away in a body bag by strangers and then poked and prodded and filled with pickle juice. The program gave very graphic accounts of just how gruesome embalming is. For the most part, this practice is completely unnecessary as the body does not show any advanced signs of decomposition during the first few days after death; during a traditional morning period.
America has completely sterilized both the birth and death processes over the past hundred years turning what was once important familial rituals and practices into a non-participatory and morbid industry. I'd rather my friends and family gather around me in my own home where memories, tears and laughter have been shared as opposed to a cold funeral home parlor set up to look like someone's living room.
Further more, studies show that participation in the death process can ease the grieving period and provides a better sense of closure.
Unfortunately, "at home" burials are illegal in five states including New York, but work is being done to change that.
I'm going to start looking for hand made caskets. You're all invited. There will be liquor, clearly.