I thank Professor Hanby for his essay in the Christmas issue. I doubt it could have been published in its full richness in any other publication. As one of the rootless young people Hanby frets about in his essay, I can say that the problem is worse than even he knows. I did not grow up in a town, but in a “census-designated place” within Fairfax County, Virginia, just south of where Hanby teaches. My parents were not from there, nor were the parents of most of my peers—indeed, it was a novelty at my public high school to have parents who had attended the school as well.
When it comes time for my generation to decide where we desire our remains to rest, I expect almost all of us to choose an option Professor Hanby does not mention in his essay: cremation. According to the National Funeral Directors Association, the cremation rate is expected to pass fifty percent in 2035. By the time I reach old age (God willing), I expect it will be far higher than that. Cremation fits the lifestyle of my fellow millennials well. Ashes are highly portable and can be spread over any number of exotic locations, or simply thrown into the wind, free to travel forever. A request to be buried in the Grand Canyon or near the main stage at Coachella, by contrast, is likely to be denied. Indeed, like rejecting contraception and homeschooling your children, I expect traditional burials will be restricted to religious fanatics like myself and perhaps a few crunchy luddites. I might come to rest in a less extravagant manner, but I will be happy to finally be rooted to one spot, where I hope my children will be able to pay their respects and pray that my soul will come to rest in our one, true home.
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