Exit Strategy
Thinking Outside the Box

On September 5, 2001, my son Sam was born prematurely. He was about as sick as any human can be. His nurse, who had apparently honed her bedside manner at a boot camp for Marine recruits, flatly told me that he wasn’t going to live. A priest giving last rites to the baby next to him took one look at Sam and asked if I wanted him to give Sam last rites too, as long as he was there.

Death is not something I had thought a great deal about. My parents are still living, as are all of my siblings; at the time, so were all of my friends. As for me, I was healthy and had no intention of dying anytime soon, thank you. But as the hours stretched into days and then weeks and Sam continued to struggle for life, the death of a loved one became something I had to confront seriously for the first time.

Sam made it out, Nurse Ratchet got fired, and I started to do a great deal of thinking about dying and death. My friends' parents began to pass away, and as I went to their funerals I noticed that there was something about each ceremony that gave it its own personality to distinguish it from the others. In the old days, all funerals were pretty much the same, because grief-stricken families usually left it to the funeral director and the minister, priest or rabbi to do the organizing and set the tone. Everything was done according to tradition and ritual. What I noticed now was that my friends were taking more of a hand in crafting the ceremony, giving each loved one's send-off an individual flair and personal meaning.

Leave it to my generation, the Baby Boomers, to take control, not only organizing our parents' funerals but even planning our own in advance. We're a demographic so totally accustomed to center stage that we will never give it up without some fanfare. Now that I think back, I believe this trend first appeared in Lawrence Kasdan’s 1983 homage to my generation, The Big Chill. After the priest announces that a college friend will play one of the deceased’s favorite songs, JoBeth Williams’ character, Karen, solemnly sits down at the church organ and hits the classic opening chords of the Rolling Stones' “You Can't Always Get What You Want.” As that Sixties anthem accompanied the funeral procession, I wasn't the only Boomer in the audience who thought, "Now that's the way to go out." In 2005, Hunter Thompson, legendary gonzo journalist and counterculture hero of my generation, even left behind a demand for his ashes to be shot out of cannon — a plan made possible by his friend and fan, Johnny Depp, the actor who portrayed Thompson in the film version of his famous book, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

When the biggest consumer-driven generation in history picks up its platinum card and commences to plan its own funerals with the kind of verve and zeal once reserved for prom night, you can bet that their need for personalization will transform the funeral business. This trend — referred to as “self-planning” — is widespread and growing. For the first time in their industry's history, funeral directors have to think about how to "market" themselves to us (because in the old days, let's face it, everybody in the market eventually came to them). They began to offer us choices and options in everything from casket styles to burial sites, disposal of cremated remains, and a variety of personalized funeral and memorial services.

Because I'm a planner by nature — I don't leave the driveway without an agenda and a map — I began to think ahead to my own passing. I hope that's far in the future, but I figure it's never to early to start shopping around. I began to research my options, and Exit Strategy shows the results. As I traveled around, I found people all over the Unites States exploring new, creative alternatives to traditional funeral and burial practices. I talked to visionary businesspeople and artists who will shoot my cremated remains into space, pack me into a golf club, mummify me, or turn me into a one-carat diamond (a choice so irresistible I have decided to make my husband Barry into a fabulous bracelet... someday). I met families whose loved ones had conscientiously planned in advance to become part of an eco-friendly reef or forest. I interviewed people who will be deep-frozen when they die, gambling that medical science at some point in the future will be able to revive them.

Whatever options people are exploring, it was clear to me that the opportunity to carry out their own and their loved ones' personal exit strategies can be a deeply moving and emotionally satisfying experience. Death becomes less cold and impersonal, which makes it easier to see it as part of the eternal cycle of life.

I hope that Exit Strategy inspires you to think outside the box about how you want to go when the time comes – to look ahead to the inevitable not with "fear and loathing," but with a plan and a purpose. After all, it's your funeral. Why let strangers make the arrangements?