Portland Writers -- Marian Drake -- My Daddy's Nose

Marian Drake

MY DADDY'S NOSE (or: Where is it now?)
My daddy's gone. Yes, he really is, and I wrote a poem about that the day he died, last August. My daddy loved. the sick, and the misfortunate, So it was a natural for him to check off "I donate my body to science" on his driver's license.
		Associated Press: "MILLIONS MADE OFF BODY PARTS!"
When Mother talked to the funeral director, She decided in her grief to let Daddy be embalmed. I was glad, you know? I didn't think I would be -- I thought it was a bizarre custom -- ghoulish, but he looked so like his old self before he had wasted away, I loved him all over again. I said Goodbye, Goodbye, Daddy, you know I've always loved you so much, so much and we had so much we never could talk about, Daddy, but Daddy, it's okay now, It really is, goodbye, Daddy, goodbye, Daddy, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, Daddy.
		"I thought I was donating to a non-profit. I didn't know I was lining someone's pocket," said Mrs. Shadwick.
Anyway, before Mama let the funeral director embalm Daddy so we could all say goodbye to him, she let them take some of Daddy and give him away "to science."
		In Scapoose: "I got Mr. Drake's nose. Looks distinguished, wouldn't you say?" (turning in half-profile, aquiline nose with that famous Drake bump on top most of my relations have.) "Hey, man, cool as hell, you know? You never looked so good! You could be a judge, with a nose like that. Nobody with a rubbery pug nose like your old one could ever pass for a judge."
Daddy was so proud of his Drake nose. We all were proud of the nose -- sister, brother, all cousins, aunts, uncles, grandmother AND grandfather all had one just like it. They were born that way. Nobody ever had their "nose fixed" in our family. (Around the family, I sometimes feel deprived to be the only one besides my mother to not inherit a "Drake nose.") Daddy was also a judge.
		"Despite the intention to save lives and laws barring profits, donated human remains often are used for cosmetic purposes."
Daddy was so handsome. So virile. So strong. Beautiful white teeth, too, at 83 Not a cavity in his mouth. Such beautiful teeth........
		In Milwaukie: (Looking in the bathroom mirror, holding up a hand mirror and craning his neck to scrutinize his ears, speaking to himself:) "Looks okay. Okay ears." A recording of Bach or Telemann playing softly in the background. (swaying to the music:) "Funny. I never heard music quite like that before. I love the -- are they called 'harmonies,' or maybe they are 'voices' -- polyphonic music, maybe.... How on earth did I know those words? Must be one of the perks of my new ears. Didn't realize music appreciation came with them (laughs)."
We played Daddy's favorite music at his graveside funeral. Such a lovely service. I played the reed organ, my nephew, Daddy's grandson, on the trombone. Bach, we played. "Bist du bei mir."
		In a doctor's office. A little boy quakes in fear. His parents want the doctor to sew his ears back against his skull. "They look like monkey's ears," they say. "The kids laugh at him. They call him names and tease him. We want him to fit in, at school. How much will this cost us?" Plastic surgeons do it to little boys every day. Cosmetic surgery so young!
Ears were so important to all in our family.
		"Donated human remains are processed into medical products that generate millions of dollars for U.S. companies despite laws barring profit from body parts. One cadaver can be worth up to one hundred and twenty thousand dollars."
In his casket, Daddy's nose and ears looked so real. I guess embalmers do cosmetic surgery, too. On the dead. to please the living.
		"Although grieving families are told the donations are a gift of life, the newspaper found that material harvested from the dead fuels an industry that is expected to have one billion dollars in revenues by 2003."
We love to visit Daddy's grave site and pray there. For him. Mother had a music staff engraved on the headstone. He was so unhappy a lot of the time, but he loved baroque music more than anything in the world. Except his family. Us. He loved us. But to him, music was God. "God is my music" saith the Bible and it was music that brought him to church week after week, all his life, and he sang in the choir, too. He never lost his beautiful voice. He got old, but his voice was always young.

by Marian Drake April 17, 2000		Some quotes are from the Associated Press, April 17, 2000