The last days with the old phones were full of nostalgia, recalling conversations and calls received on the now-dinosaur labyrinth of wires and cords, lights, and buttons.  We probably could have held a funeral for the old phones and gotten at least 15 or 20 employees to bid farewell!  Was it that we loved the old system so much, or was it fear of the new one making us yearn for days gone by?

 Finally it came: November 2, 2011. Truly a red letter date in the annals of valley funeral home history. The “phone guys” arrived in their white vans, the same vans that could possibly be padded to cart away crazed staff members like myself after we faced off with the infernal contraptions.  As we said a fond farewell to the old sets which were unceremoniously dumped into cardboard boxes, the gleaming new telephones were dispersed to the various extensions around the Oakey’s buildings.  I immediately viewed them as sinister, with their displays of round buttons spaced out to resemble eyes and a nose. But instead of a smiling face, there below the nose were three square buttons going straight across. While not forming a frown, there was definitely no resemblance of a smile on this Avaya 9504. The name even sounded mean.

 ”It won’t be that bad”, was the mantra of wary staff members.  But I knew it would be when “co-phone answerer” Dale emerged from a meeting and announced there was a definite “learning curve” for these new additions to our offices.  Uh oh!  That was bound to be some kind of code for “danger” or “warning”.  After finally being all hooked up, the new system was turned on with the flick of a switch, not unlike what powers an electric chair.

I would love to report the transition was smooth and that I now love the superior powers of the new phones.  Alas, calls were dropped, wrong numbers were dialed, and employees ran from ringing phones as if the gadgets had explosives rigged to them.  Phone answerers Dale, Tracy, and Carol quickly mastered the contraptions. Once the rest of us realized who knew how to operate them, screams of “Carol!”, “Dale!”, and “TRACYYYY!” echoed thru the halls of 318 Church Avenue. There were probably  other words ringing out as well, which would be inappropriate for a corporate blog.

It’s been four weeks now and I still get nervous when I have to put someone on hold or (God forbid) transfer an incoming call. And I’m sure Alexander Graham Bell never envisioned such epic mayhem.

Not only is it unacceptable to convey to the public the aforementioned examples, but we have to be especially careful what historical information we release to visitors or telephone inquiries. Back in the “old days” our firm was more than willing to assist with genealogical searches. I’d like to have a nickel for every time we looked up an old file so that we could give out names or dates to folks who were looking for their “roots”. The family members who were searching were always grateful for any data we could “dig up” (pun intended!) about their ancestors, and it wasn’t difficult for us because we had all the info right in our archives. 

All that changed ten or fifteen years ago when our corporate attorneys told us that we were not to release ANY names, dates, or places that had not been in a public obituary. Since we do not keep obits after a few years, that meant that we could not give out anything that was in our records. Such sensitive information as social security numbers, causes of death, and financial data all can be found in our decedent files. If any of that was to fall into the wrong hands, it could have horrible consequences for both family members as well as Oakey’s. 

So now, when we’re asked pretty much anything by phone or in-person about a burial or cremation that we were in charge of, our response is a kind but firm “I’m sorry, but privacy laws prevent our being able to give out that information”. It’s a sad, hard fact about the times that we now find ourselves living in.  

I was told that as a youngster, my dad’s sister Gayle would answer “I know” (or maybe it was “I know it”) to anything her father or mother tried to tell her. While I don’t remember verbalizing those words as my parents or grandparents would try to teach me something, I certainly had them in the forefront of my mind. I distinctly remember believing I was being annoyed, and wanted my “mentor” to just leave me alone. Youthful arrogance? I had it in abundance. 

 As a half-centurion, I look back now and wish I had been a more grateful recipient of what I now know was good advice. I can honestly say I WAS listening to what was being directed my way; if not, how can I remember so much of it many years later?  So at least I wasn’t completely tuning out the good intentions of what I considered the “geezers” trying to share their wisdom with me. In most cases, the “geezers” were my father, but especially my grandfather.  My problem was thinking they had NO IDEA what it was they were talking about because they came from another era.

 I don’t know the exact date my thinking began to change about this topic. I do know that by the time I was in my late twenties, I began to realize Dad and Pops (my grandfather) might actually know what they were talking about.  Now at fifty, I know their combined knowledge will forever dwarf whatever I might learn about this profession called funeral service.

One of the first things my dad told me was to never run while working a funeral. I thought this was crazy! Why?  I HAD to run to get everything done! Wrong. Now if I see one of our folks running in the parking lot or at the cemetery, I know what he was talking about. Of course my gentle reminder not to run probably has whoever I admonished believing that now I am the “geezer”! Another point Pops was big on: when closing the casket in the chapel, place your knee against the casket as you crank it shut so  it doesn’t bounce around. I thought this looked pretty stupid at the time, but now I do it whenever closing a sealer casket.  And Dad disdained saying things were “OK”; was it because it sounded too much like “Oakey”?!  He preferred “alright”, and I do now as well.

 Both Dad and Pops have long gone to Heaven now, and I often wish I could tell them how much I appreciate their patience in trying to show me the proper way to do things in our organization.  I would certainly give anything just to know they approve of my job performance and that they truly believe I’m doing OK.  Uh, I mean alright.

As much as I love pizza, I think I love those new Domino’s commercials even better. You know, the ones where the owner shows actual consumer photographs of delivered Domino’s pizzas that look terrible. Pies stuck to the box top, pies that have slid around in the box, and pies horribly out of shape. After highlighting how his company messed up their product, the owner then looks right into the camera and talks about how he’s not gonna let that kind of thing happen again. He even invites folks to send their own pictures of Domino “accidents.”

How refreshing it is to hear a “big dog” actually admit his firm makes mistakes, and to have the courage to show what the mistakes looked like!  I’m more of a Pizza Hut kinda guy (probably because it was what I grew up with), but such honesty may turn my loyalty over to Domino’s. How can you not admire the attitude of “yeah, we can sure foul up a pizza or the delivery process, but we’re going to use such instances to improve our entire operation?”

I’d love to be able to report to you that our funeral homes never make mistakes and that we receive a 100% rating in the “report cards” that we mail out and receive back from the families we serve. But that’s not the case. We do rank in the high nineties percentile, but that still means there is plenty of room for improvement. And while I am certainly not going to show or invite photos of areas we “dropped the ball” in, I’ll be the first one to admit that we are far from perfect.

 I can remember one of my first summers working at Oakey’s back in the late seventies. I was on a funeral at our North Chapel and listed to drive the flower truck. That means one of my duties was to load the flowers after the funeral service and drive them (REAL FAST!) to the cemetery so they could be set up at the cemetery for the graveside service. Well, yours truly got those floral pieces loaded up, and then drove to Blue Ridge Memorial Gardens to drop them off.  I drove around and around the cemetery, getting a bit nervous because I could not spot a tent set up marking the grave. Sweating now, I pulled the memorial record out of my pocket and almost went into cardiac arrest when I saw “Fair View Cemetery” listed as the place of interment! Oh no!  Going into my “freak out” mode, I drove like a bat out of hell as quickly as I could to Fair View, only to see the service beginning WITH NO FLOWERS AROUND THE GRAVE! I felt like the biggest loser in the world, and have never gotten over the family having to bury their loved one with no floral pieces around the grave. To make matters worse, after the graveside when I went up to Joe Jamison (who was the funeral director on the service), he asked me what had happened. I told one monstrous lie when I said that the flower truck had broken down on the way to the cemetery. “Boy, wouldn’t I have passed you with the procession if you had broken down on the side of the road?” asked Mr. J, “You went to the wrong cemetery didn’t you?” I admitted I had, and then got a well-deserved lecture about knowing where I am supposed to go, and about telling the truth. 

 Yeah, we are not perfect at Oakey’s. But like Domino’s, I’ll be the first to admit it and promise that we will try harder.  

While we don’t like to think about it, death takes no holidays or vacations.  That means someone you care deeply for could pass away on Thanksgiving, Easter, your birthday, or even Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.  And all the mall Santas in the Roanoke Valley would be hard pressed to put a smile back on your face.

Nobody is more conscious of this than I am.  My mom was diagnosed with cancer just two weeks before Christmas in 1980.  She passed away three months later.  I’ll never forget being in Roanoke Memorial Hospital (pre-Carilion days) with my family in the small chapel there as we received the bad news that my mom’s disease was inoperable.  I actually kicked and busted a window out of sheer madness at the hospital.  Having to endure Christmas that year was horrible.  I didn’t want to listen to any Christmas carols or even think about what the day was about.  I was lost in my own cloud of sadness and hopelessness.

So I have a pretty good idea of how families feel as they wander  into our funeral homes to make arrangements for their husbands, wives, sons, or daughters.  No amount of kindness or compassion is going to translate into a “happy holiday” for these poor souls.  As is our goal throughout the year, we can only try to make a tough time a bit easier for families.  And understand their lives have changed drastically during what is supposed to be “the most wonderful time of the year.”

Since then, we have completed numerous expansions to the building while attempting to stay true to the architectural integrity of the 1938 building. Still, it seems like our corporation is growing faster than our physical plant. There’s still plenty of room for the general public; our visitation rooms, lounges, foyers, and chapel offer ample area for families and friends to congregate. Where I sometimes get in a pinch is when I have to dole out precious square footage for new positions or in areas where our programs have outgrown their designated space.

We recently moved our Aftercare program to the first floor area that most recently housed the Oakey’s History Room. Aftercare had previously been in an area the size of a closet (in fact, it WAS a closet back in the seventies and eighties!) and needed more space.  Since our historical collection was going unviewed by all but the most stalwart devotees of funeral history in our valley, this move seemed prudent.  Shortly thereafter, Gerald Sink became manager of the downtown chapel and moved from his former office to a more spacious area, freeing up his old office for whatever we saw fit. Shazam! Two primo offices on our coveted second floor empty! This was unheard of, and many chops were being licked as staff envisioned what might become of this space.

Oakey’s is probably the last funeral home in the state that stills feels it is important to keep a night crew on premises after hours. We know death doesn’t cease at 5 or even 9 PM.  Thus, we want to give families the same service they would receive if they suffered a loss at noon. That means no employees “on call” and no answering services. After 9:30 PM, we have two staff members (one is always a licensed director/embalmer) and a security specialist that stay on premises until a fresh crew arrives at 8 AM. For years, the two funeral workers have had to share a small bedroom on the second floor. While it was not a horrible situation, snoring and variable sleep patterns led me to turn Gerald’s old office into a second bedroom. That was a pretty big hit with the night crew, who often don’t get to sleep much anyway if they are busy.

One space filled, one to go. While I would have loved to place some old pieces from the History Room into the former Aftercare office, I also knew our funeral directors needed an area for retreating and doing their work. Whether it might be paperwork, e-mailing obituaries to a newspaper, or conversing on the telephone, our directors needed a space of their own. Problem solved, as we converted that space into a director workplace (that our Medical Examiner, Dr. Eddins, can use when he is here as well). The change has gone over quite well with our top notch team of funeral directors, who have to deal with an ever-increasing amount of paperwork each time they meet a family.

 Alright, so everyone seems happy with how the empty spaces were filled. I still have no History Room, but am diligently searching for a nook or cranny where I can exhibit some of our company’s archives. I wonder how a fourth floor would look on our building?!

While I would hardly consider myself a censor, I do attempt to make sure anything coming into our funeral homes is as unoffensive as possible. Families we serve have enough problems  without having to venture into an Oakey’s and be confronted with a visual image that upsets them even more. Our firm has a pretty strict dress code, so I don’t have to worry too much about Snoopy neckties, ladies’ cleavage, or Nike sneakers. What I do periodically check on is the magazines we set out in our foyer for folks to peruse. This topic came to my mind today, as the new National Geographic crossed my desk in the incoming mail. Most people would not think the Geographic would be a sensitive piece of reading material, but when I saw that the current issue has a human skull on the cover, I immediately put on my screening hat and decided it would stay in the employee lounge. While most families might not bat an eye at human bones on a magazine cover, there’s always the chance such a photo could really set off a loved one who just lost a spouse or parent. While I haven’t had to direct a periodical to the employee lounge since the last Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, that’s where you can find our new NatGeo!

If you are thinking no one reads the magazines in a funeral home, you are quite wrong. Somehow, a copy of one of our trade magazines called “Mortuary Management” ended up in the music room where the ministers are ensconced prior to a service. I had no idea the clergyman had seen the funeral publication until after the funeral, when he told me that he did not really need to know how to embalm an autopsied body just before he had prayer with a family!

And while the eyes can be offended, so can the ears. A family at our South Chapel had lost a son and brought in a CD he had burned and played on a regular basis. I made the mistake of not asking what was on the disc, and was shocked when a visitor to that particular parlour complained about having to listen to the heavy metal song “Highway to Hell” whilst attending a wake! I believe I sat a new speed record as I dashed to our P.A. system several rooms away to yank the CD in question.

 We even have to be careful about aromas wafting through our facilities. Every so often Oakey’s has “Baked Potato Day” for the staff of our downtown chapel, where we purchase several dozen potatoes to chow down on for our lunches. Along with all of the “fixins” for the ‘taters, we usually have a tossed salad and several deserts. The problem comes when we attempt to bake 40+ potatoes in our lunchroom, which is right below one of our arrangement offices. Within a half hour of turning on the oven, the office begins to smell like a cross between the Golden Coral and        K & W Cafeteria! And for some reason, explaining to a newly widowed lady “It’s Baked Potato Day here at the funeral home” does not quite do it!

 So call me “Big Brother” if you must, but as long as I’m in charge here offending reading matter, music, and fragrances will not be available to the general public!

Since our opening, we have served the families of over seventy-five pets who have passed away. As we anticipated, the cremation rate for dogs and cats is much higher than that for our human funeral homes. It seems that the days of burying Fluffy or Spot in the back yard are quickly becoming a thing of the past. I can certainly understand that, having left my family’s beloved Sweetheart beneath a flower bed at our former home on Laburnum Avenue. Cremation offers pet parents the chance to take their “babies” with them wherever they move to in this increasingly mobile society.

While the common denominator of those calling on our pet funeral home has been love, other commonalities have been hard to come by. Some families feel comfortable bringing their dog or cat directly to us, while others cannot bear to even think about doing it. Some families wish to purchase a piece of jewelry to wear a portion of their pet’s cremains in, while others look at us like we are batty when we offer this product. Some families are in no hurry to get the cremains or ashes back, while others have a sense of urgency and want the cremains back that very day if possible. As at our five human funeral homes, we believe that it is not our job to question what a family wants (or does NOT want). If we can do anything to make a tough time a little bit easier, loved ones of pets or people can rest assured that we will do it.