Roz Chast - Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant?

 

Well, some Years ago in 2014, I wrote a book about taking care of my parents in the last 10 years or so of their lives. It's called Can't We Talk about Something More Pleasant? [audience laughter] The title came from something that my father used to say a lot. It was really one of his favorite phrases. The other one was, Why ask for trouble? But I think the reason why he liked to say this phrase was because my mother really loved talking about illnesses, and accidents and seemingly horrible things had happened to almost everybody that my parents knew. 

 

I mean, you could just take anything. You could take a button on a shirt. And sure enough, somebody was once buttoning their shirt, the button popped off, it went up their nose, [audience laughter] they choked and they died. [audience laughter] It was the craziest thing. A chair. Somebody was going to sit down in the chair, they missed the chair, they got a bruise on their hip, the bruise got infected, they died. [audience laughter] 

 

My mother seemed to relish telling these stories. Mr. Mulcahy, he was getting into the car, he slammed the car door on his leg, got infected, they had to cut the leg off. [audience laughter] One of the rules of my childhood was never sit directly on the ground, because if you sit directly on the ground, it might happen to you what happened to her best friend. She sat directly on the ground, she caught a cold in her kidneys [audience laughter] and she died. [audience laughter] So, my father's phrase, “Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant?” was the title for this book. 

 

Nevertheless, even though they loved talking about or she loved talking about illnesses and accidents, they did not really like to talk specifically about death, especially their own deaths. It was a topic that they liked to avoid, which made, in many ways, taking care of them hard, because I never really found out what they wanted. I would try to have these conversations about things, and it was just impossible. I didn't particularly want to talk about it, so we just avoided it. That's what the book was about. 

 

I'll give you an example. When my grandfather died when I was about four years old, I asked my mother what happened to grandpa, and she said, “He went to Virginia.” [audience laughter] 

 

So, I took care of them for these 10 years. It was pretty rough. I was an only child and I grew up in a very small apartment in the middle of Brooklyn apartment 2J. Never forget. My father died first. He died at the age of 95 and he was cremated. I remember picking up his cremains, they call it, nice word, [audience laughter] at the funeral parlor. And they were in this little box. I put the box inside of his favorite Channel 13 bag that he always carried around with him, [audience laughter] and then I put that bag in my closet. 

 

And two years later, at the age of 97, my mother died. When she died, I went to the funeral parlor and picked up her cremains, which were in a little box. She didn't have a Channel 13 bag. She didn't get one. But they were in my closet for a long time. 2007, 2009 was the dates of their death. They remained in my closet until about maybe two years ago. I didn't really mind having them in my closet. I thought it was a little bit weird. But on the other hand, it was nice to know where they were. [audience laughter] 

 

And the truth was, since they didn't want to talk about death or their deaths, there was no place that seemed other than arbitrary for them to be. I thought, well, my closet's, at least, it's not arbitrary. They're here, they're with me sort of. And then, about two years ago, out of the blue, I got a letter from a stranger, this woman, who had read the book I wrote about my parents and knew that my parents’ cremains were in my closet. [audience laughter] And she said that there was a mystery-- She had read my book and she really enjoyed it, but there was a mystery that needed to be solved. She reassured me that she wasn't nuts and I believed her, because I'm a trusting sort, considering that I grew up in Brooklyn. 

 

What she was saying was, my parents before me, they had a baby that died shortly after birth. And because, as I said, my parents didn't like to talk about death, I did not know where she was buried. I couldn't really talk much to my parents about this, because they did not want to talk about it. When I brought it up to my mother, she would just say, “I don't want to talk about that mess.” Because the truth was that she almost died during this horrible incident. And the baby, as I said, died. 

 

Anyway, so this woman, this stranger, took it upon herself to look up online on a website called Find a Grave, which the female chaste death, 1940 or so, because my parents waited a long time, I'm not that old, between having her and having me, because they were so afraid, and where this baby was buried. She did this research before I did. She found something that she thought I might find interesting. That this baby was indeed buried in Mount Lebanon Cemetery in Queens. Hebrew Cemetery. So, I thought, whoa, that's weird. 

 

I went online, and I looked up Mount Lebanon Cemetery, and I found their contact button and I wrote, “Dear sirs or madams, I wrote this book about my parents, blah, blah, blah. Archives, George and Elizabeth Chast.” I just thought, well, maybe they'll get to this, I don't know. The next day I got a letter from the guy at the cemetery who, incidentally, is called a cemeterian, [audience laughter] I learned this term. And he said, “Dear Roz, I believe you have found your sister. Not only that, but it turned out that my mother's parents were also buried in that cemetery, which I did not know.” He sent photos of my grandmother and my grandfather, the one who was supposedly in Virginia. [audience laughter] 

 

So, I talked to him a little bit and I said, my parents are in my closet and I think I'd like to get them out of there. [audience laughter] And he said, “Okay, we're in business.” [audience laughter] So, I set up an appointment. It was a two-part process, because the first part was really for paperwork. We set up an appointment, and I went out to Mount Lebanon Cemetery with my son. It was really interesting. We met with him. He took out these archived cemetery maps and he showed us the precise place where my sister was buried. We went out there and we put stones on her grave, which is what Jews do. We don't put flowers there. We put little stones, and showed me where my grandparents were buried. 

 

We went back to his office. He knew that my parents were cremated. It's becoming more common in Jewish cemeteries, because as he said, “It's a hot topic. Ha-ha-ha.” [audience laughter] He really did say that. [audience laughter] So, he was really, really nice. He said that he found a perfect place for my parents’ cremains, that there was a niche wall and it overlooked the place where my sister was buried. There was only one niche left in that wall, and it was niche J2. 

 

As I mentioned before, the apartment where my parents lived for 50 years and where I grew up was 2J. And I just thought, oh, well, we really have found a place for my parents,” speaking of sense of place. And then, there was no rush. So, it took a few months. But I did make a second trip out there with a friend, and I had my parents in a tote bag. [audience laughter] I was on the subway [audience laughter] and I kept thinking. I so wanted to just say to somebody on the platform, guess what or who is in this bag? [audience laughter] 

 

So, I got there and I went out to the niche wall with the driver. We got there, and I have to describe this like a picture, because usually I draw things. I don't just tell a story, I draw it. And so, you'll have to picture, there's this wall, and leaning against the wall, this niche wall where they put cremains, is a tall ladder going up to the very top and there are two workmen people on the ladder. One by one, I gave the boxes holding my parents’ cremains to one guy, and he passed to the second, and he put my father in there, and then they put my mother in there and then they sealed up the box and I realized it was time to say goodbye. That's it.