I am so excited to announce ADV, the soon-to-be-released 2008 estate vintage of our cabernet sauvignon. ADV stands for Adler Deutsch Vineyard which is where this first release comes from– a small patch of land on the Napa valley floor known as the Rutherford Dust, an area rich in minerals and a rocky depth allowing for deep purple berries yielding concentrated juice. The wine was aged in new French oak for over 18 months and is pure estate cab except for a small touch of petit verdot.   We went all out to make this a distinctive and delicious wine, and so far we have had nothing but praise. And although it is still a bit premature to drink, it is hard not to sneak a little of this juice that offers such yummy flavors as dark cherry, black currant, cocoa shavings and dark plum. The classic aromatics of violet and perfume, combined with a rustic yet velvety finish make you want to ask for more! When our website is ready you will be able to learn more about ADV, the winemaker and our friends who helped to make the magic happen. The Muse will keep you posted. 

 

 

 

Dear Reader,

 

By the tone and content of my new post entitled “Life after Life: A Visit to the Reef” you may think I am both obsessed and nonchalant about death. Probably true. And perhaps that by creating some kind of narrative I am better able to cope. Definitely true and blogging helps. And if you think I am attempting to be humorous as a way to detach myself from the uncomfortable realities that come with death as yet another coping mechanism, you are triply correct. Let’s just agree that these mechanisms buoy my confidence and curiosity to proceed with this personal essay that is laced with a kind of journalistic reportage, and vice versa.

 

The personal essay is a response to my mother who popped the “cremation” question. It answers the need to address the inevitable. With my parents racing to the “endgame” I am bracing for the “moment”. Having recently lost relatives, friends, beloved animals and tragically, children I have known, I guess I am already in that moment. In a way the moment forces acceptance and I am reminded that life + life= death, albeit a somewhat nihilistic viewpoint but true no matter how you slice it.

 

I can’t help but feel an individual experience of shared mortality as an observer of the world events. As participants of society aren’t we all reminded of death as we witness hundreds of thousands of unfortunate victims of disasters perish, soldiers who have been unlucky die, and for the poor souls who, before they take their own lives, are convinced there is something better in the beyond? The death toll includes wildlife, fish and birds which, among other species, get swallowed by sloppy oil spills! My apologies for leaving out anyone or anything from this statement which is simply to underline the avalanche of death imagery and sound bites we are exposed to daily.  Mortality is fragile.

 

The reportage line of this story was simply circumstantial. The more I learned the more fascinated I became and the more I got caught up in the true story of life after life underwater options! I thank the people at the Neptune Society (like Tricia, Amber, Jim) for their patience. And so here I submit, in three parts, a new bit of muse as a way to assuage the proverbial “wolf at the door” angst that inspired “Life after Life: A Visit to the Reef”.

 

PART ONE  

 

My 85 year old mother leaves a message.

“Honey, would you call me? I got a letter from the Neptune Society.”

Interesting, I think, she usually calls about lunch dates, mail order steaks and Easter eggs.

So I’m curious. When I think of the Neptune Society I think of a tearful scenario in which people are standing at the edge of a boat throwing ashes overboard. Sometimes the ashes blow back into the faces of the crying and stick there.

“Mom, are you feeling okay?” Normal question to ask when there is a reference to funerary details.

“Fine. What should I do?”  Did she mean with the letter, or herself?

 “Gee Mom, are you getting ready? Did you get the call?”

“No, I told you, it’s a letter, signed by someone.”

That’s not what I had meant, but it was easier not to explain.

 “If I pay for it now it will be cheaper.” She added.

This did not need explaining, either.

 

The Neptune Society is corporate big business. It is the largest cremation outfit in the United States. The “Society” literally banks on death and much of its clientele is the elderly the most obvious demographic preparing to die. Betty knows about the Neptune Society because she and her late boyfriend’s children scattered his ashes at sea off the Southern California coast. But for the seagulls, the captain and the family, they had been alone.

 

That was six years ago. She returned home that day with loads of photos she had taken with a ten year old camera that she still uses today. I mention this only because Betty isn’t one for change, or new technology, or the unconventional.

It was odd behavior for my mother to talk about death. It was really out of character for her to consider what to do with her body afterwards. For my mother to consider cremation and a scattering at sea option was a surprise. Heretofore, mother addressed death by merely saying, “Well I’m not dying so we don’t need to discuss it.” 

I am glad the Neptune Society contacted my mother, and that she called me about the whole dying thing.  In fact, talking about death and related topics fascinate me. Like who shows up at a funeral, alive of course, and what the rabbis, priests or family members say about the deceased. I wonder who is telling the truth, and who is projecting their own psychoses onto the dead. I like to watch who makes the funeral a narcissistic outlet as they talk about their history with the departed. Most of all I love to see who openly grieves. The experience makes space for authenticity.

 

So yes, I like funerals. So maybe I am morbid. But mostly it’s because I like the realness and somewhat Buddhist acceptance that comes with death, dying and funerals. 

 “I don’t love the idea of burning,” said mother interrupting my dark daydream which is distinctly different from nightmares.

“But I guess I wouldn’t know the difference.” 

“That’s right, Mom, you would not.” But my sisters and I will, I thought. And we’re going to have to deal with that choice. So why not talk about it now?

 

The burning thing is becoming more and more of a hot topic. In the near future statistics show that in the United States about 800,000 people a year will choose cremation with 30% opting to scatter their ashes at sea. Cremation is clean and responsible. Choosing cremation over interment, inurnment, or entombment is a green choice and a way to “save the planet”.  Why pump embalming fluid into the ground if you don’t have to? Save land and grow some trees instead.

 

The way I see it, cremation will destroy my body or in this case my mother’s, and that is sad and I will grieve. I believe the body is an encasement of her sprit which will remain. Can my mother actually be aware of all this? If so, bravo! Mother's phone call, like a permission slip, will enable our family to discuss after death options with her while she can.  Best of all, the discussion makes way for inimacy.  Even if the dialogue is somewhat fragmaented. 

"Send me a copy of the letter Mom, and let me do some homework." 

I jumped at the chance to begin an investigation that would eventually lead me to the "life after life" option. 

 

 

PART TWO:

The Reality: What do you do when a loved one dies? Right now this is for me the hardest part to think about. I imagine it as a moment filled with confusion, sadness, bewilderment and anxiety. Panic. I am sure no matter how much I think it through presently, I will not be ready for it when it happens. Nevertheless, I want to be prepared—in a pragmatic kind of way. The deeper process which would include GRIEVING, LOVING-KINDNESS MEDITATIONS, PRAYERS – more on that at another time.  

In the meanwhile I learned from the Neptune Society Website that yes, mother can secure a locked in fee if she buys her Pre-Payment Cremation Packet Plan now.  The Cost: $1,499.00 plus tax for a grand total of $1,550.00

This fee pays for what I call the “24 hour availability team” which in turn “takes responsibility  for the removal of the body from the place of death, and transfer to a refrigeration facility, procurement of all paper work like death certificates, etc., cremation container, cremation process, urn, and return of the cremated remains to the family.” The fee also includes the “Scattering Ashes at Sea,” and “Releasing of Ashes to the Family or to the Cemetery.”  (Does the latter even need be mentioned?). Whatever. The way I see it they help take charge while I am a zombie, reeling from the reality that this person I have been glued to all my life, is gone.  

Returning the cremains to the family seems kind of obvious, but like a dumb movie, can create an amusing scenario, as in the case of my family when Aunt Helen died and Uncle Clyde left (as in temporarily lost) my Aunt’s cremains under a bar at an airport on his way from Florida to Minnesota where the urn was to be buried alongside other family members. The airport eventually tracked my Uncle down (who was gathering dementia cells faster than you can say overnight delivery) and the urn was shipped north to be rightfully interred alongside family… is this kind of like: I shoulda called the Neptune Society?

At this point I am prompted to revisit the mythological keeper of the seas, Neptune, son of Saturn and Ops, and its Greek counterpart, Poseidon. As a water person, I like the thought of becoming one with the sea, usually swimming, or paddle boarding or snorkeling. Sometimes I believe in mermaids. I do not like the idea of eternity in the water alongside one whom would probably be a tyrannical egotistical cranky politician and old ruler of the seas which is what I imagine Neptune to be (Is it just me?). 

Even so, the Neptune Society is known for the popular, if not friendlier imagery of Neptune, and I guess that helps sell cremation packages annually. Clearly the society is the ruler of cremains aquatic management in the United States. 

So much so they have taken burials at sea one step further with an underwater (drum roll, please) man-made artificial reef that serves as an underwater mausoleum.

 PART THREE:

They call it a city, and if you google the Neptune Memorial Reef  you can see it for yourself. It is an artificial reef that lies 3.2 miles off the coast of Key Biscayne some forty feet deep consisting of 16 acres of sand and sea with room for 100,000 entombments.  Excuse me?  A reef owned by the Neptune Society that serves as a burial site for those  who don’t just want to be “scattered,” but rather, “placed?”  

Somewhat surprisingly the Neptune Memorial Reef was something of a mystery to the receptionist at the Neptune Society corporate office in Plantation, Florida. After listening for several moments to music that sounded like submersible “Sea Hunt” gurgling sounds, I finally got my introduction to “the reef.”  

Tricia Robinson, a “pre-need counselor” knew a lot about the needs of the after death experience as it occurs at the Neptune Memorial Reef.  In a gentle voice she painted a lovely picture of the “manmade reef sanctuary” appointed with Atlantis themed “artifacts, pillars, statures, paths, gates and things.” She explained that while some of the architectural elements, like the gates and railings are made of iron, the pillars, benches, columns, and classic animal and marine life structures are made of cement. It is into these cement structures that the entombment molds, made of cremains, cement and sand are placed. These molds resemble the “stones” you see in the Olympics Curling events weighing in at 40 pounds each. “You have the option to watch the molds being made,” said Tricia, “on land of course.”

Would I want to watch?

“Oh yes,” she didn’t hesitate to respond.

She then explained that, “after the cement-sand mix becomes a set mold, divers take the mold by boat to the park and lower it into the water. You have to be a certified diver to watch it being installed into the reef.”

I pictured myself in dive gear looking for that special place.

“How does a family select where the “stone” is placed?” I asked, anticipating the answer:  location, location, location. It’s a real estate kind of thing. For a little more money one can go with the top of the line “premium structure,” like say a Gatekeeper which flanks the brass gates, Capital Finial, or a stately Lion Column, or a bronze Lion Base. These placements are more prominently positioned in the park. They sit “higher” than the more economical “standard structure” choice, like a bench, or a replica of a shellfish, which is closer to the seafloor. I thought of a condo with a view, versus no view.

Once the molds are placed inside the columns an iron plaque with the deceased’s name is attached to the structure. The payee becomes memorialized just like any cemetery, only this is 40 feet under—the surface of the sea.  

All this was cool, but I had some more questions. Tricia gently ended our discussion by saying, “By choosing the reef, you will be creating life-after life.”  Very catchy.  And very intriguing.  Would Betty want to do this? I wasn’t ready to call her yet. I needed to dive a little deeper. And then I struck gold. 

Jim Hutslar has overseen the development of the reef as Project Manager for the Atlantis Reef Project since its inception in 2003.

“I started on this project seven years ago and have done approximately 700 dives down there.” You do the math!

In 2003 Hutslar was a freshly retired pacemaker salesman ready to sink his hooks into a project that really mattered to him. As a lifelong marine activist and scuba diver, this “blue” enthusiast was excited about developing an artificial reef off the coast of Florida for the sake of environmental research. As Hutslar began his due diligence he quickly recognized the area’s ideal conditions for an artificial reef where fish species could multiply and thus recognized the potential for a designated research park where scientists and divers could explore. The place had the perfect depth (not too shallow for boats but shallow enough for scuba divers and the eventual deployment of the molds), consistency of sand (an appropriate environment to carry the coral spores), and as they eventually realized, easy access for maintenance of the manmade structures. 

Hutslar volunteered to lay the groundwork for the project which is now the largest artificial reef in existence. By 2007, and after countless hurdles, on behalf of Gary Levine, Founder and Chief Executive officer of the Atlantis Reef Project, Hutslar had acquired the permits from Dade County to begin building the reef itself.  

Enter the Neptune Society and its owner Bob Genovesa who also understood the promise of the reef.  Described as an “adventure capitalist,” Genovesa paid for the use of the permits which gave him the right to develop the reef as a place of entombment.

Technically, no one can ever own or lease the permits, and can only use the permit as long as they maintain the reef. Reef maintenance allows for continued development by the Neptune Society. Out of the 16 acres dedicated to the park, only ¼ acre is developed so far.  That means with 100 placements made and 15 ¾ acres left there are 90,000 placements to go.

 

With 10 million dollars of private financing, Hutslar has stayed on to oversee the first phase of installation with 10,000 cubic yards of concrete weighing in at over 1200 tons including five-ton columns supported by fifty-ton bases. All of this making for an architecture that represents the “Central Plaza of Atlantis,” and the heart of a sculpture garden which rises out of the ocean floor.  

“Artificial reefs exist, but nothing like this,” Hutslar says with obvious personal pride, “and while the reef is no longer in an experimental stage it is still evolving into the successful biological research zone it was intended to be.”  Hutslar describes the reef as a near perfect, predesigned eco system that takes into account every kind of underwater life, including how to deal with predators.

“Every size hole and shape inherent in the reef has to be considered in order to attract and create a habitat.” And that’s the whole point: the “reef” is a conflagration of manmade elements transfiguring a natural landscape into an eco-friendly condition where marine life can thrive.

Today, in addition to the environmental growth, this underwater enclave has proven to be an ideal marine resource and learning center for “blue” students who use it to dive, research and teach. According to Hutslar the “reef” will be around a long time because it has been built to withstand the strongest storms like Katrina, and there is no oil digging/rigging on that side of the gulf. 

I asked Hutslar how he fits into the “reef” business today.

“I work for the “reef,” but not the “society,’” I get it: he is an ocean’s keeper with a purpose. Plus he gets good benefits and has a promising gig. And while the reef and society are separate businesses, they are mutual beneficiaries. As long as the area is properly monitored and maintained, the permits will be renewed, and the building can continue. The critical edge for both parties is taking uber care of the place so that it can survive as an enduring habitat.  

From a bigger picture I see the whole thing as pretty cool since no one can own this underwater land which is in United States jurisdiction. The Neptune Memorial Reef/Atlantis Reef Project is a public multi-use, eco-friendly memorial sculpture garden that can be enjoyed by anyone who can swim, dive and respect the environs. The Miami/Dade underwater law enforcement agency assures this as it historically patrols specially designated Southern Florida underwater sites in efforts to protect the natural habitat from vandalism, spear fishing and garbage dumping.  

The Neptune Memorial Reef certainly guarantees life after life as the coral bloom, the fish multiply and a matrix structure continues to be built meeting the modern demands of cremation, and the baby boomers’ demand for cremain placement. Read my bubbles: Environmental watchfulness + fish + jobs + afterlife + happy families who love the peacefulness of an undersea necropolis = innovation and the possibility of alternative green business. Is there a future here?  

There is something incredibly calming about snorkeling and scuba diving. Watching melodious movements of sea life swaying in tandem with tidal currents promisesd a sense of calm, as does the vivid color panorama that appear on sunnier days.

But there’s more, and I think for me it’s mostly a breath thing. I become acutely aware of my breathing as I witness exaggerated rhythms of air entering my lungs, which if halted, would suffocate me. This reminds me of the fragility of my own existence. You could say it is a yogic, pranayama kind of breath. This breathing technique requires my turning into my own breath with watchfulness, a meditative witnessing. If I were to “place” a loved-one into the Neptune Memorial Reef, I would be in a kind of pranayama meditative state. I would be acutely present each time I visit this special reef making it more than just one of life’s social rituals. Experiencing the silence of the sea, my breathing, and swimming inside the beauty of an underwater life would hone the placement/burial ritual and make the visit to the reef all the more sacred. Therein lays the rich potential for a cycle of life… after life.

It was a lot for Betty to absorb.

“Oh dear,” she said once I had finished telling her about the reef.

 “I don’t think that’s for me. Can’t I just do the boat thing?”   Yes I told her.

 “Well let’s talk about it some more. Later.”

I will look forward to that conversation.