During my years of interviewing country doctors, it became obvious that many of their wildest stories involved the participation of the local funeral home in some way. 

Frequently in the doctor’s silly story involved the participation of a funeral home because, in the old days, the only “ambulance” available was a hearse. 

It used to be that hearses were “convertible” for live or dead occupants.  And the local funeral director lived in the commnity and knew where everyone else lived, so he could be relied on to be fast to reach the scene.  The dedicated vehicle we know as an ambulance is a relatively recent luxury. 

Other times the funeral home was involved for the more obvious reason that someone had passed away.  But, even then, it wasn’t as simple a case as it might have been.

I’ve accumulated an amazing collection of stories of picking up the wrong person, delivering the “body” to the wrong place, processions going astray…

What I learned was that the kids who grew up in funeral homes had childhood’s a lot like mine.  We bonded over the constraints of growing up serious and responsible and restrained right from the get-go.